Quarantine has resurrected our respect for many professions little considered in other times. We stand in solemn respect for the medical professionals, of course, and now just as much for the stolid checkout personnel, the cleaners, the mail delivery folks and the unseen millions who work in the background to make our lives livable. But let’s recognize some others who are truly valiant in this great time of need as well: our truckers.

The Knights of the Open Road are history. As a kid listening to the grown-ups talking in the car, I heard about these guys. They were long haul truck drivers. They followed the “code” of the knights of the open road. It seemed that any time something good happened while we were taking a ride, my dad would say, “There goes a knight of the open road.” I remember that if you were passing a semi on the road, he’d flash his lights when it was safe for you to get back in the lane ahead of him. They never sped but kept a steady speed in the days before cruise control. This was to help others gauge their own speed and time. If you were walking and wanted a trucker to blast their fog horn, all you had to do was pump your arm and a tremendous air burst would roar out, and kids would cheer like they won a ball game. They carried the freight that made America great.

I doubt you will ever find this code of the knights written anywhere, but there was a time when, like any profession, drivers held to a creed. They were courteous. You could count on them to be honest in their dealings. They were friendly, even with truck stop workers, who were usually the same year after year, since you could make a living being a roadside waitress. Their word was their bond, and you could rely on them to do what they said they’d do. I don’t remember a single “How am I driving?” plastered to the back of a truck because they were always the model for driving safety, care and caution.

They were proud of what they did, and they did it with care and efficiency. It meant something to be part of something greater than they were alone. Long haul drivers were known for being someone special on the road. Some of us wanted to be drivers, even like some of our dads and moms. But all of us admired them and wanted to be like them — good and reliable, known to be good custodians of what they carried, timely and careful.

Safe.

Now we hear about dangerous time requirements put out by companies, tight time schedules and standards that can’t possibly be achieved without dangerous practices. Drivers are pitted against one another. Stay awake? “After 26 cups of coffee, I can do anything!” asserted one of the more modest drivers I heard.

We hear of double booking to beat the safety inspectors, of shams and scams which maximize profit at the expense of safety. That’s my safety, and yours, and your friends’ I’m talking about here. Some drivers not only don’t care about a professional code, they don’t care because it is every man or woman for himself. Hustle the company, hustle the road, hustle for your life, because you have to drive to survive. They are in turn hustled by their company or contractor. Of course, most don’t want to be like that, not at all. They want to be good drivers, safe and reliable.

Recently, I was almost killed by a truck carrying unsecured concrete blocks. When some bounded under a single wire holding them on and fell off the back of his truck, the driver’s solution was to drive for all he was worth, watching those behind him dodge like a pinball machine. One struck a car, but that didn’t stop the trucker.

However, the Knights of the Open Road are not gone. They don’t have to be.

If you can’t make a living driving safely, with good oversight, there’s something wrong. Drivers want to be professional. They want a “code of conduct.” They want to be respected, in a respectable trade. Companies and drivers need to talk about being professional. They want to be Knights of the Open Road again.

— John William Davis is a retired U.S. Army counterintelligence officer, civil servant and linguist. He was commissioned from Washington University in St. Louis in 1975. He entered counterintelligence and served some 37 years. A linguist, Mr. Davis learned foreign languages in each country in which he served. His published works include “Rainy Street Stories: Reflections on Secret Wars, Terrorism and Espionage” and “Around the Corner: Reflections on American Wars, Violence, Terrorism and Hope.”