Super Stoked and Happy (Part 2 of 4)

Members of the public felt 'change in the air, something beautiful was happening.'

Part 1: Boom Truck Ben

Ben greeting supporters in Ottawa. Photo supplied by him.

Ben says the energy during the time he spent in Ottawa "was invigorating. Even if we'd had a long day, you never really felt tired." Members of the public, he remembers, "were just super stoked and happy. They could feel there was change in the air, that something beautiful was happening." Regarding the couple of individuals he personally encountered who were hostile toward the protest, he says "locals who supported us said ‘these Negative Nancies complain about every concert or Canada Day event. So there’s nothing that’s going to appease these people.’"

In his view, "it was supernatural to bring that amount of people together for three weeks" and have no serious incidents. That said, not everything went smoothly. After the truckers reached Parliament Hill, they discovered "there was nobody in charge." Eventually, other people took responsibility for managing the stage, but he and his brother-in-law did much of that during the first few days.

Ben in his truck, greeting a child. Photo supplied by him.

"If somebody wanted mic time, we kind of vetted them. I remember this one evening, there was a group of three or four guys." One was wearing a ski mask, "you couldn't even see his skin. The others were wearing COVID masks. They didn't look at all" like the truckers and supporters who were defiantly mask free.

Instantly we had a bad feeling. We just said No. We made up something, the schedule was already filled, or whatever. We were new to this, we were figuring it out as we were going. We weren't being outright rude to them, but they kept on pushing. They were telling us this story. They needed to address the crowd, there was something going down on Wellington, it was serious and they needed to let the truck drivers know. I don't remember the details, but they were trying to create some kind of panic. They were very persistent.

Ben, who's six-foot-two, thinks it was nearly an hour before the group finally gave up, "They just kind of turned around and walked away."

During those early days, volunteers were recruited to help keep an eye on things. Excitable individuals would occasionally try to climb on his truck, Ben explains. After rumours started flying that "somebody was gonna plant guns on our equipment," full-time monitoring became imperative.

Friends-of-friends - including former armed forces personnel and firemen - joined the security team. At night, while Ben and his brother-in-law got some rest in a hotel room, these volunteers took turns keeping watch.

Among the members of the public with whom Ben formed relationships was an older woman and her daughter. "Initially, the mother approached me," he says,

She kind of signaled for me to come down out of my truck, so I did. She gave me a hug, she held me so tight. She’s talking in my ear, and she’s just begging me not to leave. That first night she told me her story, where she was from. She wore glasses, and they were kind of tight up against her cheeks, and the bottom of her glasses were filling up with tears.

She’s telling me how it breaks her heart, that she was seeing the same things rise up here in Canada that she'd escaped from in Bulgaria.

They kept asking what they could do, how they could assist, he says. "They ended up taking my laundry, doing my laundry for me. I was just so blessed by them."

One of the nearby trucks had a trailer that got turned into a kitchen. "They called it the Freedom Trailer," he continues." We had some heaters in there, and that's where most of our meals were made. Some of those truck drivers are excellent cooks."

Meetings also took place in the trailer. Once a day, sometimes twice. Attended by ten to fifteen people. Often they were a quick five minutes. On other occasions, Ben says, drivers would discuss "legitimate concerns, repercussions they were facing." As time wore on, some were under increasing pressure. "Their company was telling - not asking, but telling - them to leave," he remembers.

Ben's regular fuel supplier was a teenager whom he thinks lived near Ottawa and was borrowing a car from a relative. "As soon as I met this kid, for some reason I just trusted him. He was sixteen, eighteen, somewhere in there. And he had this great big backpack with this steel Jerry can. It held a lot more fuel than your average Jerry can. He'd just put that on his back and bring it up to me, on a daily." He wouldn't take any money, "he just wanted to bring fuel up, and feel like he was helping out."

Ben was supported in other ways. Even though he wasn't working, his bills still needed to be paid. "I'd say most of the people helping me out with my finances were some of my customers. On quite a regular basis there was a thousand dollars going into my account, making sure I didn't have to worry about my bills at home."

Along with everything else that was happening, relatives were fretting about Ben’s safety. "I remember a phone call with my youngest brother. He was very concerned, because of how central I was, that I was going to be a target, or gonna be made an example of. Very valid concerns, but I just thought the risk was worth taking."

continues Sunday