Riding Shotgun — No. 01 How a Red Heeler Became My Co-Driver

Let me be clear about something right away: 

Honey is not a pet who comes along for the ride. 

She is crew. 

There is a difference, and she would like you to understand it.

How She Got Here

Red Heelers — Australian Cattle Dogs — are working dogs. 

They are not designed for laps and lazy afternoons.

They are designed for purpose. For a job. For having a reason to get up in the morning and a human to do it alongside. 

In other words, she was built for exactly this. 

The first time she rode with me — really rode, hours of interstate, rest stops, the whole experience — she looked out the windshield for about twenty minutes and then settled. 

Not anxious settling.

Satisfied settling.

The settling of a creature who has found the thing she was supposed to be doing. 

I recognized it because I felt something similar my first year out here.

What She Does, Officially

Honey's job title — as listed on her Ghost page, which she has — is Chief Morale Officer. 

This is accurate. 

She monitors my stress levels with a precision no dashboard instrument can match.

She alerts me — through the specific weight of a head placed on my arm — when I have been driving too long without a break.

She provides mandatory interaction at rest stops, which means I actually get out of the truck and move instead of sitting in the lot scrolling my phone. 

She also barks at trucks she finds suspicious.

The criteria for this are unclear and possibly known only to her.

What She Actually Does

She makes the cab feel like somewhere. 

That sounds small.

It isn't. 

A truck cab is a utilitarian space.

Metal and vinyl and logistics.

It does what it's designed to do and it doesn't ask much of you emotionally. 

Add one Red Heeler who is genuinely delighted to be exactly where she is — 

and it becomes a home. 

Not metaphorically.

Actually.

The place where my life happens.

The place where I'm known.

Why I'm Writing a Whole Series About Her

Because she's earned it. 

And because the people who follow One Safe Mile keep asking about her.

Which tells me something — that what people connect with isn't just the trucking.

It's the life.

The full, specific, this-is-how-we-actually-live version of it. 

Honey is central to that life. 

She goes where I go.

She sees what I see.

She has opinions about all of it. 

Riding Shotgun is her story.

Which means it's also mine.

Which is probably how she'd want it.

One Safe Mile  —  Renae Savage

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