America runs on truckers. Every day, big rigs crisscross the country delivering everything from groceries to gasoline. It's demanding work that blends monotony with danger, requiring constant vigilance on long, lonely roads.
California trucker Aaron Isaacs calls it "the last honest job" where you truly earn your money. But now, technology threatens to reshape this profession entirely. The question keeping drivers up at night: Will innovation make their jobs better, or make them obsolete?
A Smarter Truck for Today's Driver
I recently had the chance to test drive Volvo's redesigned VNL long-haul truck at a closed track in South Carolina. As someone who typically reviews cars, climbing into an 18-wheeler was eye-opening.
The experience was surprisingly smooth. Camera systems eliminated blind spots. Adaptive cruise control handled the truck's speed automatically, accounting for the 72,000 pounds of cargo behind me. When a car cut in front of me during a demonstration, the truck braked on its own. In simulated traffic, it maintained safe distances without any input from me.
Joel Morrow, who owns a fleet of trucks, put it simply: "This truck's easier to drive than most cars nowadays."
These driver-assistance features have been standard in passenger vehicles for years, but they arrived late to the trucking industry. Early versions frustrated drivers with false alarms and excessive warnings. Now, companies like Volvo argue that perfecting these tools isn't just about safety—it's about keeping drivers.
The trucking industry faces a massive retention problem. Driver turnover in long-haul fleets has averaged above 90% for over two decades. Carriers blame a driver shortage. Drivers point to low wages, brutal schedules, and basic indignities like nowhere to park overnight or use a restroom.
Technology alone can't fix those problems. But Volvo believes that better tools, combined with improved comfort—think nicer seats, clearer displays, and cabins that feel more like RVs than work trucks—can help drivers want to stay. After all, replacing a driver costs at least $10,000 in lost productivity and training expenses.
I even spent a night in one of these trucks. With a fold-down bed, microwave, fridge, and compact TV, it felt more like a cozy camper than a workplace. I slept great.
But here's the thing: the next truck I saw didn't have any of those amenities.
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When the Driver's Seat Sits Empty
The week after my test drive, I looked inside an almost identical Volvo VNL. No microwave. No TV. Just empty space where the bed should be.
This truck didn't need creature comforts. It didn't need a driver at all.
Companies like Aurora Innovation are building fully autonomous trucks that use cameras, radar, and sophisticated software to navigate highways without human input. Other startups like Waabi and Kodiak are racing toward the same goal. Texas, with its long stretches of highway and permissive regulations, has become ground zero for testing.
I flew to Dallas to experience it firsthand. At Aurora's terminal, I climbed into a Peterbilt truck where A.J. Jenkins, a veteran driver, sat in the front seat—but not to drive. His role was simply to observe.
The truck beeped and began to roll. It navigated out of the lot, waited at a stop sign, merged onto the highway, and settled into traffic. Jenkins kept his hands in his lap, sometimes even behind his head. The steering wheel turned on its own. The truck maintained a courteous speed, slowing to let other vehicles merge.
At first, it felt unsettling. But as the miles passed, I got used to it. The ride was smooth, predictable, even boring—which is exactly what Aurora wants.
Jenkins helped train this system in its early days, driving routes while the truck's sensors learned from his decisions. He remembers when the autonomous system would weave within the lane, making him self-conscious about what other drivers thought. Then came a software update that changed everything. The truck stayed centered perfectly. "It was boring," he said—high praise indeed.
Today, Aurora trucks have logged over 100,000 miles of autonomous trips carrying real cargo, with human observers aboard. The company plans to run completely unmanned freight runs in spring 2026.
The Safety Debate
Not everyone shares Aurora's confidence. Surveys show most Americans express concern or fear about driverless vehicles.
Many truck drivers are skeptical, too. "Computers don't work all the time," Isaacs points out. "There is no technology that is 100% proven to work all of the time, every single day."
He believes his human judgment gives him an edge—like noticing when another driver seems distracted and giving them extra space. "That's a big part of the job, anticipating the actions of others. And I don't believe that a computer can do that."
Self-driving advocates counter that autonomous vehicles could actually be safer than humans, who get tired, distracted, and emotional. Cameras provide 360-degree awareness that human eyes can't match. Aurora president Ossa Fisher describes the technology as having "superhuman capabilities, responding to the world much faster and consistently than a human ever could."
Aurora has extensively tested failure scenarios—both on real roads and in simulations—to ensure backup systems work if components fail. Fisher says they've "tested everything possible going wrong."
Critics aren't convinced. Todd Spencer, president of the Owner-Operator Independent Drivers Association, says the industry is being asked to take developers' word that the technology is safe. He's also concerned about hacking risks—could autonomous trucks be hijacked and weaponized?
Fisher insists Aurora has designed security into the system's core, with onboard computers that can't be controlled remotely, even by Aurora's own employees.
What Happens to the Jobs?
For drivers, the real concern isn't just safety—it's survival. "When you start taking drivers out of trucks, you're taking food off of people's tables," Isaacs said. "You're taking the braces out of that kid's mouth."
Fisher sees it differently. She points to the industry's sky-high turnover rate and argues that autonomous trucks will fill gaps rather than eliminate jobs. "If you are a truck driver today, your services will be in demand until the day you choose to retire."
Aurora is targeting long-haul routes first—the most tedious and exhausting work—where a driver that never needs sleep has clear advantages. Fisher argues they're automating "the least desirable jobs."
But desirability is subjective. Mike Bradshaw, a Teamsters member who hauls car carriers, prefers those long runs with their union pay and protected rest time. "It's profitable for me to take those longer runs. That's what I look for."
Looking further ahead, Fisher is candid about her vision: "I think we'll automate most things. I won't put years to it, but certainly in the arc of civilization, vehicles like this will be fully autonomous, and we'll thank our lucky stars that they are."
She argues that new jobs will emerge—fewer drivers perhaps, but more people remotely monitoring fleets and more mechanics maintaining the vehicles. The profession would evolve rather than disappear.
Preparing for Change
The Teamsters union is taking the threat seriously. "Technology is coming," says Brent Taylor, the union's southern region vice president. "It's coming fast."
The union has negotiated some contracts requiring humans in autonomous truck cabs and pushed for legislation mandating human operators. Most importantly, they're fighting to ensure that whatever jobs emerge from this transformation "continue to be good-paying jobs."
"I don't think we're sitting around with our heads in the sand thinking that it's never going to happen," Taylor says. "Whether it's five years, 50 years, 100 years, I mean, it's coming."
The future of trucking sits at the intersection of human dignity and technological progress. Smarter trucks with better driver-assistance tools promise to make a difficult job more bearable. But fully autonomous trucks raise existential questions about the profession itself.
For now, drivers like Aaron Isaacs continue earning their living the honest way, one mile at a time. How much longer that remains true is anyone's guess.