On a stretch of icy road in 2000, Nick Barboza learned a lesson that would impact the rest of his life behind the wheel.
The trailer began to slide first, then the tractor followed. In an instant, the truck jackknifed – steel folding against itself, momentum overtaking control. Ice, Barboza would come to understand, demands respect.
“If you respect the ice, the ice will respect you,” he says.
He has not forgotten it. In the decades since that moment, Barboza has driven more than 3 million miles without another accident, a milestone reached by only a small fraction of professional drivers. This year, the Truckload Carriers Association named him one of five national winners of its Professional Driver of the Year award, one of the industry’s highest honors.
But long before Barboza learned to respect ice, he was a boy in rural Mexico who wanted a bicycle more than anything. A friend owned one, and Barboza spent years working odd jobs in hopes of buying one himself. But each time he got close, the price climbed higher.
“I never caught up,” he says. “Finally, I gave up.”
A lifetime of work before sunrise
Barboza grew up in Huetamo, in a family of 15 children on a small farm without running water or electricity. He started working at nine years old, rising before sunrise to milk cows, carrying the milk to his grandmother to sell, then walking 45 minutes to school.
When classes ended, the work resumed: feeding animals, cutting wood with a machete so his mother could cook, working until the last light faded.
“We didn’t stop until there was no more sun,” he says.
Barboza didn’t see his first car until he was 15 or 16. Riding in one scared him, so driving one seemed impossible.
“When I became a truck driver, I said, ‘Wow, this is big,’” he laughs.
At 19, Barboza came to the United States, chasing work wherever he could find it. In California, he sold fruit cocktails on the street for $125 a week, then washed dishes for $250 every two weeks. But as competition for work intensified, he moved on.
“’I’m not here to fight for jobs,’” he remembers thinking.
Barboza returned briefly to Mexico, then came back again, following the harvest seasons across the country – picking oranges in Florida, apples in West Virginia and tomatoes in Tennessee. The work demanded speed and endurance: the faster he moved, the more he earned.
“By the time your ladder hits the tree, you’re already two or three steps up,” he says, describing the pace of picking fruit.
Between harvests, Barboza took whatever work was available. In Tennessee, he caught chickens – four in one hand, four in the other – loading trucks in cycles of intense labor and brief rest. Later, he moved inside to processing work, then into a factory painting commercial washers and dryers.
Learning the road
It was there, alongside his wife, that Barboza saw something that changed the direction of his life.
“I saw a guy driving a truck with his elbows,” he recalls. “I said, ‘He makes driving look easy.’”
Barboza’s wife agreed.
“She said, ‘Yeah, it is easy.’ I said, ‘You think I can do it?’ She said, ‘Yeah, if you want to.’”
That encouragement would prove decisive. Barboza enrolled in truck driving school, but because he spoke very little English, the classroom proved challenging. Fortunately, his wife was allowed to sit beside him, explaining the material as he went.
That experience deepened Barboza’s appreciation for his wife, whom he places second only to his faith in God.
“God is number one, because without God, I wouldn’t be here,” he says. “My wife is number two, because I wouldn’t be here without her, either. Then comes Covenant.”
That third constant is Chattanooga-based Covenant Logistics, where Barboza has now spent 28 years. The company gave him his start in trucking and the opportunity to build a career.
“I still can’t believe it,” he says. “Even if you have a hard time, Covenant believes in you and gives you opportunities.”
After completing training, Barboza drove as part of a team for six months, then solo for another six. Soon after, he became a trainer – a role he’s held ever since. Over the years, he’s taught more than 600 students.
Many of them arrive with the same doubts he once had.
“When I first saw a tractor trailer backing up, I thought, ‘I could never do that,’” he says. “I can barely back my car into a parking space.”
Now, helping others overcome that fear is one of the most rewarding parts of his work.
“In the beginning, they have a hard time,” he says. “The best thing for me is when it starts to click for them. You can see the smile on their face. That’s what I like.”
His approach is simple but personal. Every student learns differently, and his job is to figure out how.
“My way might not be yours,” he says. “That’s why I try to look at how people are doing it first, then think about the easiest way for them to learn. Then it’s repetition, repetition, repetition.”
‘Safety, safety, safety first’
The lessons extend beyond technique. Barboza teaches patience, discipline and safety – the principle that traces directly back to that icy road in 2000.
“You’re going to fail sometimes,” he tells his students. “But the main part is safety.”
He repeats it often and deliberately: “Safety, safety, safety first. If it snows, slow down. If there’s ice, don’t take risks. If you’re tired, pull over.”
Barboza says nothing matters more than a driver’s life and the lives of the motorists around him.
“Somebody is waiting for you at home,” he says. “Somebody is waiting for them at home.”
That philosophy has guided Barboza through millions of miles without another serious incident, earning him recognition across the industry. Yet for him, the work is not about awards.
“I don’t expect awards or bonuses,” he says. “I just do my job.”
Giving more than he ever had
Barboza’s life off the road reflects the same sense of purpose.
He and his wife live in Midway, Tennessee, in a six-bedroom house that’s rarely quiet. Their own children are grown, but over the years, more than 30 foster children have passed through their home.
“My wife loves kids, and they love her,” he says. “My house every weekend looks like a school.”
When Barboza isn’t driving or training, he spends his time with family, watching children play, helping his son fix things and tending to a small farm.
Each year, they grow vegetables – corn, peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, watermelons – and give much of it away to neighbors.
“A lot of times, we have too many cucumbers,” he smiles. “So my wife goes to the neighbors with a big basket.”
Giving, for Barboza, is a habit formed over a lifetime.
Years after arriving in the United States, he remembered the bicycle he never had as a child. By then, he’d saved enough money to buy not just one, but many. He filled a pickup truck with bicycles and drove back to Mexico, distributing them to siblings and children in his community.
“I couldn’t believe it,” he says of being able to afford a bicycle in America. “So I stayed.”
When Barboza returned again to the United States, he gave the pickup truck to his father, who still lives in Mexico at 82. Barboza continues to support him, as he has since he first left home.
“God has given me more than I need,” he says.
The sentiment echoes across his life. At Covenant, Barboza tells new drivers to take their time and respect the work and the road. He watches for the moment when something clicks – when uncertainty gives way to confidence.
The smile, when it comes, is unmistakable. That’s when he knows they’re ready.
Sometimes, he sees himself in that moment – someone who once believed he could never do it, now learning that he can.