About

You call it a blog, I call it my therapy...welcome to The Long Haul! I'm an artist, writer, proud supporter of the trucking industry and lover of the road. I lead a crazy life where every day is different, and I get to meet some of the most amazing people along the way. This is a place to showcase these people, stories from the road, positively promote the trucking industry through my music, and hopefully provide a bit of comedy to get us all through the day. Come one, come all. 10-4 Good Buddy!!

- Lindsay "Long Hauler" Lawler

 

ABOUT LINDSAY LAWLER

Lindsay Lawler is quickly becoming the face and voice of the trucking industry, providing a soundtrack for the lives of countless truckers across America.  Lindsay brought her signature brand of rockin’ country vocals and dominant stage presence to the 2010 Great American Trucking Show in Dallas, TX.  It was there that she formed a partnership with the Truckload Carriers Association (TCA) and has since been named the official spokesperson of TCA's Highway Angel program (www.truckload.org/highway-angel), which recognizes truck drivers who have saved lives and performed extraordinary acts on the road.  As a result, for the past two years she has performed at many more Trucking events across the US including, Mid-America Trucking Show (Louisville), Great West Truck Show (Vegas), TCA’s annual conference, the Humanitarian Bowl and Idaho Famous Potato Bowl (Boise) which are sponsored by UDrove/Internet Truckstop, Pilot/Flying J’s annual event (Nashville), and the Texas Motor Transportation Association's annual event (Austin).  Trucking companies such as Fikes Truck Lines, Sammons' Trucking, and Epes Transport, have also had Lindsay headline their annual events. 

 

With its message of hope and mercy, Lindsay's Highway Angel song, has become a recognizable anthem for truck drivers and has given her tremendous exposure in the industry.  Highway Angel is featured on Lindsay’s current EP, The Long Haul which can be found on ITunes along with her debut album Train Wreck. The Highway Angel music video is also featured in many training and promotional materials within the trucking industry.  In addition, Lawler wrote and recorded the song The Long Haul for Women In Trucking, recorded American Trucker for Roehl Transport, and wrote and recorded He Loves The Road for former TCA chairman Gary Salisbury, who has been one of Lindsay's greatest supporters. 

 

Lindsay has been featured on Midnight Trucking Radio, the Dave Nemo Show, and most recently was the featured guest on the Truckers News Celebrity Series Webcast.  She has appeared in or on the cover of several trucking based publications including, Pro Trucker, Truckers News, Overdrive Magazine, Driving Force, Best Driver Jobs, OOIDA's Landline Magazine, Healthy Trucking, Driver Health, and the upcoming edition of TA's Road King Magazine.  Lindsay most recently inked a deal with Renegade Radio Nashville (www.renegaderadionashville.com) to host her own radio show.  The program will include segments on Highway Angels stories, trucking industry celebrities and professionals, driver requests, and an unplugged music segment featuring some of Nashville's biggest songwriters and performers, including music and commentary from the Highway Angel herself, Lindsay Lawler.  The show kicks off July 17^th.

 

Lindsay, who hails from Texas by way of Oklahoma, spent several years performing in Los Angeles before settling in Nashville, TN in 2007.  She was a featured performer for 2 years at the famous Tootsie's Orchid Lounge on Broadway before branching off to pursue a career in the studio and on the road.  Lindsay co-writes most of her music with her producer, Chris Roberts, a songwriter and artist at Warner Chapel Nashville. 

Lindsay Lawler, the Highway Angel, continues to acquire new sponsors both in and out of the trucking industry.  She notes her main goal is to bring a positive image to trucking, and awareness of the most amazing, hard-working and loyal people that make up the trucking industry.  She continues to sing the stories of drivers from stage to stage, station to station, and considers herself beyond blessed to have found an audience and home within her trucking family.

For more info, please visit www.lindsaylawler.com and www.facebook.com/lindsaylawlerfans.  Lindsay also has a blog, "Long Hauler Lawler," which is about to relaunch and can be found at www.longhaulerlawler.typepad.com.  To book Lindsay or inquire about performance or radio sponsorships, please contact Brandon Mauldin with Conway Entertainment at 615-724-1818 or [email protected].

Comments

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I was not born here but far away in a remote province. It must be assumed that my parents were good people, but I was left an orphan as a child, and I was brought up in the house of Nikolay Sergeyitch Ichmenyev, a small landowner of the neighbourhood, who took me in out of pity. He had only one child, a daughter Natasha, a child three years younger than I. We grew up together like brother and sister. Oh, my dear childhood! How stupid to grieve and regret it at five-and-twenty, and to recall it alone with enthusiasm and gratitude! In those days there was such bright sunshine in the sky, so unlike the sun of Petersburg, and our little hearts beat so blithely and gaily. Then there were fields and woods all round us, not piles of dead stones as now. How wonderful were the garden and park in Vassilyevskoe, where Nikolay Sergeyitch was steward. Natasha and I used to go for walks in that garden, and beyond the garden was a great damp forest, where both of us were once lost. Happy, golden days! The first foretaste of life was mysterious and alluring, and it was so sweet to get glimpses of it. In those days behind every bush, behind every tree, someone still seemed to be living, mysterious, unseen by us, fairyland was mingled with reality; and when at times the mists of evening were thick in the deep hollows and caught in grey, winding wisps about the bushes that clung to the stony ribs of our great ravine, Natasha and I, holding each other’s hands, peeped from the edge into the depths below with timid curiosity, expecting every moment that someone would come forth or call us out of the mist at the bottom of the ravine; and that our nurse’s fairy tales would turn out to be solid established truth. Once, long afterwards, I happened to remind Natasha how a copy of “Readings for Children” was got for us; how we ran off at once to the pond in the garden where was our favourite green seat under the old maple, and there settled ourselves, and began reading “Alphonso and Dalinda “ — a fairy-story. I cannot to this day remember the story without a strange thrill at my heart, and when a year ago I reminded Natasha of the first lines: “Alphonso, the hero of my story, was born in Portugal; Don Ramiro his father,” and so on, I almost shed tears. This must have seemed very stupid, and that was probably why Natasha smiled queerly at my enthusiasm at the time. But she checked herself at once (I remember that), and began recalling the old days to comfort me. One thing led to another, and she was moved herself. That was a delightful evening. We went over everything, and how I had been sent away to school in the district town-heavens, how she had cried then! — and our last parting when I left Vassilyevskoe for ever. I was leaving the boarding-school then and was going to Petersburg to prepare for the university. I was seventeen at that time and she was fifteen. Natasha says I was such an awkward gawky creature then, and that one couldn’t look at me without laughing. At the moment of farewell I drew her aside to tell her something terribly important, but my tongue suddenly failed me and clove to the roof of my mouth. She remembers that I was in great agitation. Of course our talk came to nothing. I did not know what to say, and perhaps she would not have understood me. I only wept bitterly and so went away without saying anything. We saw each other again long afterwards in Petersburg; that was two years ago. Old Nikolay Sergeyitch had come to Petersburg about his lawsuit, and I had only just begun my literary career.
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