CHANGE HAS COME -- AND IT AIN'T GOOD!

With that thought, I leave you readers for another week, while I go play Eskimo for awhile.

That's the final line of my last blog entry, from a week ago. Little did I know that my pronouncement would prove to be prophetic. I did, indeed, play "Eskimo" last week and will endure it all winter long, or so it seems. Misery has raised its ugly head, stared right into my eyes, grinned slyly, and said: "Hi there! Remember me?? I'm baaaaaaack!!" I was wisecracking last time about the government turning off the heat, but my trucking company has beat them to the punch. They turned off our heat last week.

The latest edict of my employer came in the form of a fleet message that each dispatcher sent out to all the trucks under their control, but the message was merely being relayed by them from the Powers That Be in those upper executive offices. The message dictated two things: First, that idle percentages must be kept at 35% or below, and that drivers in violation would be brought to the yard for "disciplinary action," if those parameters aren't met. Secondly, we are no longer allowed to use our tractors for personal transportation at all. Not even to run between the truckstop where I've been dropping my trailer for the past several years and my house, and then back to the truckstop when I leave out. My company has now entered "Maximum Fuel Conservation Mode." And they've done it at a time when fuel prices have fallen as close to rock-bottom as they're likely to get. Never heard a word about this when the prices were up to the ceiling last winter and spring. They wait till the prices are way down and cold weather has set in, before they spring this on us. How much sense does that make?? Not a lot, on the surface.

My idle percentage has been hovering somewhere in the 50-65% range, give or take. This is because it is winter. It is cold. And idling my engine is the only means I have of heating my truck. Some other outfits give their drivers APU's (Auxilary Power Units) or little bunk heaters that use a tiny amount of diesel fuel to heat the cab and bunk, without running the big engine, but not my company. They begrudge even that miniscule amount of fuel when it's not being used to actually move the truck down the road. They nixed the idea of APUs when they had it on maybe a couple dozen or so trucks. Claimed they didn't save anything with them. My company has about 700+ active trucks. How can they know something like that, with the things installed on that few trucks? Sure beats me. Danged if I know. I don't think I could tell jack, until I had them on at least half my fleet.

Translation: "We don't want to spend the money on them." That might sort of make sense, in a way. Don't spend the money on creature comforts for drivers when half of them will just quit after three or four weeks anyway. Of course, they aren't concerned about why that many drivers quit; they plan the whole operation around the turnover and indeed have problems when drivers hang onto their jobs and don't quit in droves every week. And they never think about the all-too-few experienced drivers who are still there after ten years, either. But then it would look like favoritism if they treated us differently, wouldn't it? So much for loyalty. We get to freeze our buns off, too.

Thirty-five percent idle means just what it says -- that the truck cannot idle more than 35% of the time during any given week. And, yes, they can tell how much we idle; it's all done via some high-tech electronic gadgetry known as "Sensor Tracks," which is incorporated into the Qualcomm satellite system, along with the GPS function, which tells them where every truck is located. With that magic, they can snoop on us full-time, 24/7/365. Well, it's their truck, after all. They own the thing, so I've never argued with that; in most ways, it's good security for any company. But you can't cheat. Big Brother at the yard is watching you!! Don't that give you a warm and fuzzy feeling? You're never really alone at all. They just don't have any security cameras in the sleepers and cab. Yet, anyway. But I'll shut up now. Don't want to give them any ideas, should some trucking company bigwig happen to read this.

Thirty-five percent idle isn't the lowest parameter in the world, but it's pretty stingy, especially in cold or extremely hot weather, when you need the heat and air conditioning the most. They equip all new trucks with both of those items, standard, but now comes the catch-22 -- we aren't allowed to use them very much, for very long. Eight hours, while you sleep?? Out of the question. You'll overshoot your percentage in less than two days. Staying warm while you're waiting to be loaded, unloaded, or dispatched on a load? Disallowed. Ditto. So, you sit in a cold cab, bundled up in your heavy jacket, just like you were working outside. Write in your logbook with your fingers so stiff from the cold that you can barely hold your pen, or press the keys on your calculator. You watch the vapor clouds when you exhale fog up your window glass. And when you do turn in, it's hard to sleep, because you're shivering and your teeth are chattering. If you have sleep apnea, as I do, you sleep in a nasal mask and it's like breathing in icicles after a short time. Not to mention the fact that the current draw from that machine is playing hell with your batteries. And all this is at just 33 degrees last week. I shudder to think what it will be like when I'm inevitably sent to Minnesota or Iowa, where the temps routinely fall into the single digits, or below zero at times (usually at the time I'm there, with my luck)!!

I stood it as long as I could -- about four hours -- then "SCREW THIS!!" I got up and fired that mother up. Got some heat in there and let it run until I was warm again. Then shut it back off until I again couldn't stand the cold any longer. Repeat as needed. I can't sleep anyway, when it's that cold, so I got what I could during my "warm spells." My idle will likely be down next week -- will show some improvement -- but I'm still expecting it to be over the Magic Number they've given us. One problem is that I was totally unprepared for that edict that came down from on high last week. Got to gather up some warm things while I'm at home this weekend. Long johns, see if I've still got that old sleeping bag around, sweat pants. And may put a bill off and look at those propane camping heaters they use inside their tents in cold weather. If it's safe in a tent, it'll be safe in my sleeper. Buy my own damned bunk heater, since my company won't meet us halfway.

It's either that, or eventually get hauled in for that "disciplinary action." Oh, I know what that will likely be, since they have to bring me to the yard. Maybe a written warning and a butt-chewing session with a Safety official the first time. The second time, they'll bring me up there and put me on a 3-day suspension. No roll, no miles, no paycheck, to amount to anything. And they'll also likely confiscate my keys, so that I can't start it up for the whole three days I'm there.

But it will never come to the third offense, which is likely the firing of the driver. Not with me. First time I'm suspended will be IT!! I'll be home, either on a truck, or via a Greyhound bus, and will be carrying what I can of my things with me. I will be temporarily unemployed. Being disciplined in such a manner because I will not voluntarily subject myself to frostbite conditions is just far too much crap to take. I have my limits. DON'T push that button! That's all I can say about that. It's not my fault the economy sucks and you're having financial problems; I've been having them all freakin' year long!!! It's gotten so I can make just as much at a minimum wage job as I can trucking anyway. And I mean that quite literally. It's really that bad right now. My back's already to the wall and I can't be pushed much further. Read it and heed it. There are heart attacks that aren't as serious as I am right now. I am a human being; don't fold, staple, spindle, or mutilate me.

Hopefully, it won't come to such an ugly scenario as I've just painted. Other unhappy drivers like myself might start defying the policy. They can't fire all of us, can they? Maybe I can get an exception of some sort because of my apnea and the need to run the machine I use. Maybe things will get better reasonably quickly (although I'm not holding my breath on that one). Maybe the government will bail out the trucking industry, since they're bailing everyone else out! There's always reason to hope for the best, and I certainly do. For now, I'll comply with it as well as I'm able to and see what happens next year. This sorry excuse for a year is almost over now. Good riddance! When you're down as low as you can go, the only direction left is up.

We'll see.

WE, WHO ARE ABOUT TO FREEZE. . .

Twenty-seven freakin' degrees this morning -- geez, but it's cold!!! Cold enough to set me to laughing out loud when Al Gore starts babbling about "global warming" again. I live in the south and it's been colder than is usually normal this time of the year down here lately. I'm beginning to feel like I live in an ice bowl.

I am a warm weather person. I hate cold, I hate snow, I hate ice; in short, I despise all the miserable crap that comes with the winter months. Give me green grass, green trees, warm breezes and shirt-sleeve weather all year long and I'm in my element, functioning properly, running on all cylinders.

So, naturally, guess where I get to go, right off the bat this week? The Chicago area. Yep, up in the Frozen North, where Accuweather said it was snowing and would continue to pile the frozen white stuff up overnight. The temperature there, the last time I looked, was a balmy 18 degrees. I am not happy, but I will go; it's called "forced dispatch," which means that you go where dispatch sends you. Period. Like it or not. They changed my load over the weekend, which would have put me in the vicinity of our terminal on Tuesday. Instead, I get to travel even further north.

I'm not forgetting to wear my boots this week. I absent-mindedly went out in my regular shoes last week. I did go to our yard then and found that it had snowed there recently. I spent an interesting fifteen minutes skating and sliding around on a patch of ice, trying to unhook my trailer, so I could bobtail over to the tractor parking area and catch some sleep. Every time I tried to pull out the release on the fifth wheel of my tractor, I slid forward on the ice and went crashing into the side of the trailer. After French-kissing it four or five times, I finally managed to get braced sufficiently so that I could yank the release all the way out. The soles of those shoes are made for dry pavement, not ice, as I quickly learned, so they'll sit this week out at home and I'll don some more suitable footwear. Once again, I have to reluctantly prepare for (ugh!) winter operations. Against my better judgement, let me tell you!

And now, with the frosty weather down here (but no snow, so far), there's not much to look forward to when I eventually do head back south again. You just go from "Colder" mode back to the regular "Cold" setting. The Democrats won the election, so now they've turned down earth's hidden thermostat, to offset the global warming they're all so worried about. At least that's my theory. Hey!! Turn it back up!! I'm paying my "rent" (taxes)!!! I'd LOVE to have some global warming right about now. Heck, I'd even settle for regional warming!

With that thought, I leave you readers for another week, while I go play Eskimo for awhile.

DUMPING AOL

As most of you already know, about a week or so ago I created a new primary e-mail address and departed AOL for good. Although I still have my free account there, I plan to use it only as an alternate e-mail address in the future. I had been an AOL member since sometime in 1999; I can't recall the exact month I first signed up for that service. That's a long time to spend with one internet service provider, but I was used to AOL -- knew how everything there worked and had no reason to leave until about two years ago. Since then, I had been growing steadily fed up with them.

When I first signed onto AOL, they were about the only game in town, really. It was still the dial-up era back then, and you had MSN, one or two other ISPs, and AOL. They ruled the internet world in those days. But things do change and the internet was changing almost daily. When the new millenium began, in 2000, it would soon usher in a new era of high-speed broadband service. This brought the giants of the telecommunications industry onboard the internet provider train and that was the beginning of the end for AOL. I don't expect them to survive much longer. I predict that they will either be gobbled up by another internet entity, like Google, or they'll simply cease to exist altogether in the next year or two.

I, like millions of others, switched over to broadband. I already had my cable TV service through Comcast and they offered a fair price to add internet service to my account. I've never looked back on that decision with an ounce of regret. As a trucker whose downtime is so limited so often, high-speed internet is a godsend. With it, I don't have to spend what seems like three hours, waiting while ten e-mail pictures download on a slow-ass dial-up connection. I don't get booted offline anymore, while I'm reading my mail, or writing an entry like this. I don't wait eight hours while downloading a critical software update. Dial-up sucks, and I was glad to be done with it. So were millions of others like myself.

But the explosion of broadband service wasn't the best news AOL could have received; in fact, it was the worst news they had ever heard. They weren't in a position at all to compete with telephone and cable companies; AOL always was, in fact, dependent on the phone companies, to provide their services. They had no telecommunications infrastructure of their own at all. It's fair to say that they were doomed from the outset of the broadband expansion. Oh, they hung on desperately, for as long as they could; you've gotta give them an 'A' for effort on that. They tried a gimmick in which they would provide the DSL high-speed service for you, through your local phone company. That one went nowhere, though, because people quickly discovered that their local phone company most often featured rates much cheaper outright than what AOL was charging for it. So, they ordered DSL and cable broadband hookups in droves and discovered that all of the new ISPs had some sort of internet interface portal of their own, which utilized Internet Explorer, which is an integral part of the Windows OS platform; it's built right into it. What's the point in paying AOL for a second browser, when I already have one? People asked themselves that question and answered it by dumping AOL. Also in droves.

I hung on AOL, paying them for only one reason: the extra storage space they gave me, to upload and store the music and pictures I used on my AOL journal. But AOL was headed down, down, down. First came the Great Advertising Debacle, around two years ago. Ads began appearing everywhere on AOL, as they tried to make up for the revenue they'd lost when their former customers began dropping them. Those ads angered many more AOL'ers, especially those who had blogs. I had a blog myself, but I also have the gift of Obstinate Sales Resistance; I could totally ignore the ads, like they weren't even there at all. Others couldn't do what I did, so AOL lost many more customers because of that.

AOL came up with a second browser, almost a copy of Internet Explorer, which was intended to give IE users an interface that looked familiar, if they'd try out AOL. That flopped. Why settle for a copy, when you can just use the real thing? Every effort they made to attract new customers failed miserably. Finally, they caved to the inevitable and began offering the AOL service free, to people who already had broadband providers. This was in hopes that those people would bring in revenue by subscribing to other AOL services. That also flopped. Not many, if any, took them up on it.

Then, this year AOL began downsizing, cutting their costs to the bone. First they eliminated AOL Journals, where I'd had a home for the past five years. I was angered, but evicted anyway. I moved my blog to Blogspot, which is owned by Google. Next to get the axe was AOL's You've Got Pictures, then AOL Hometown went on the chopping block, and finally the FTP space, where all my stuff had been stored. At that point, what was I paying for? Damned if I know. So, I went to the free version. They begged and pleaded with me, stopping just short of finding me a good-looking hooker to bed down with, and paying for her services. I turned a deaf ear to it all and went freebie. Everything I'd been paying for was gone. The provider I'd been with for nine years showed every sign of filing for an impending Chapter Eleven. They looked weaker than the Big Three automakers in Detroit are looking these days.

AOL has had it. Its days are numbered and it will surprise me if it's still around, at least in its present form, by the next election cycle, in 2010. Those of you who are reading this and are still on AOL should think about it carefully. Consider this: broadband, whether cable or DSL, has become so affordable nowadays that almost anyone can get it. If you already have broadband, then get used to Internet Explorer. You'll soon need it. If you don't like your provider's interface, you don't have to use it. Use Google for an IE homepage, like I do. Create a Gmail account. It makes accessing Google easier. Google ain't going anywhere. They'll be around for the foreseeable future and the way their technology is advancing, I don't think it's too much of a stretch to say that Google IS the future.

It was fun while it lasted, AOL, but you just ain't what you used to be anymore.

WINTER BIKER BLUES

They call many custom and show bikes "Trailer Queens" because they ride everywhere on a trailer behind a car or truck and aren't ridden very often, if at all. You see them all summer long, being towed down the freeway, enroute to some rally or bike show somewhere. Some of those creations, in fact, are virtually unrideable anway, due to extreme fork rake angles, ultra-low ground clearance, wild exhaust systems that would tend to fry a rider's right leg, and the fact that so many of them have old-style hardtail frames (no rear suspension, otherwords). Hit a pothole while you're leaned over in a turn with one of those puppies and you'll likely end up riding the pavement on your butt!!

Well, my first two-wheeled love, Miss Velvet, is definitely of the very rideable category, but only for one short trip on this long holiday weekend, unfortunately. The reason for that is that the weather here sucks. I had every intention of taking a longer excursion yesterday, but when I raised my garage door, the 48 degree temperature, coupled with a cold-ass rain made me rethink those plans. I got into my 4-wheeler when I went out and Velvet became a Garage Queen for the rest of this weekend. Ah, yes -- it is that season again! Late fall/early winter, and the weather is going to continue to suck quite a bit until spring gets sprung next April or thereabouts. A downtime for bikes and bikers, except for what few milder, sunny spells might come our way in these parts between now and then. What we call "Cage Weather" is upon us.

The vast majority of bikers tend to hibernate in winter. Not that we're asleep, like some animals are, it's just that we resort to 4-wheeled vehicles, which are warmer, drier, and safer to operate in sucky weather conditions. Not many bikes on the roads at all. Just a scattered handful of the hardcore types and the high-mileage H.O.G. touring fanatics, who I think would try to ride in a blizzard, if they thought they might set a new record of some sort.

Not this Dawg. I won't ride in even rain, if I have a choice. Getting caught out in it is one thing; every motorcyclist goes through that many times over. But deliberately riding out of the garage into a rainstorm? Nope. I may be a little crazy -- I do drive a truck for a living, y'know -- but I'm not totally insane!! I prefer to stay dry and pneumonia-free as much as possible. If I want to take a shower, I want warm water, not soaking rain in 40-degree temperatures, with a self-generated wind chill that feels like about 20 degrees. A polar bear I most definitely ain't!!

The biker hangouts are quieter, too. Coyote Joe's bike lot was empty this afternoon, when I stopped there to down a burger, fries, and a couple of brewskies. Not a single bike was present; everyone was in a cage. Same place, of course; same friendly barmaids, posters and signs on the walls, TVs on four different channels at the same time, and jukebox blaring, as always. The crowd was smaller than it typically is in warmer weather; half the tables and booths sat vacant. I paid my tab and left after my meal and two beers. No one there that I knew at all. There will still be some parties, particularly around Christmas and New Year's. I might attend one, or both of those, if I have the opportunity and enough extra bucks to spare. But it's not like it is in the summer, during those big weekend blowouts, when everyone shows up, at least for a beer or three.

"If you can't ride, polish." That's my motto, but I haven't started on that yearly winter ritual yet. Saving that for the really cold weather that will come next month, and in January. Something to do on a cold and gloomy Sunday afternoon. By next spring, I'll have Velvet gleaming, with her yearly makeover beauty treatment. I gotta put money back to take her in for her first 1,000 mile service, too. That's required, under the terms of my warranty. After that, I'll likely do my own oil changes, but I'll pay for the intial service, to keep the warranty active. Gonna set me back over $200, but it's a thorough servicing; they go over the whole bike, tighten and adjust everything. A nice tax refund would help with that -- ya hear me, Uncle Sam??

The winter biker's blues are upon us now. But I prefer to think of it this way: every day that goes by is one day closer to spring, when we can all hit the road again!

GIVING THANKS

This hasn't been the best of years for me.

Soaring fuel prices earlier in the year, Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, a misguided (in my opinion) trillion-dollar bailout, tight credit everywhere. An economy in the toilet, people tightening their purse-strings, an automotive industry struggling to take its last gasps of breath, production down almost everywhere else as well, dwindling loads and miles, equally dwindling paychecks at times. A summer that seemed like a mid-winter -- sitting, waiting to be dispatched, not rolling equals no money earned. Bills coming due, as always, and the money not there to cover them more than once. Overdrafts, bank account penalties, late payments and one or two that I missed completely. Late fees charged. Trying to pay off my debts and wondering all too often how I'm going to do that at all, with these unaccustomed cash flow problems. All-in-all, a very trying and aggravating year for this Dawg. I won't be a bit sorry to see 2008 end; it's been a struggle for me.

Nobody ever said that life would always be easy; there are NO guarantees and you can only do what you can do and hope for the best. Maybe hitch your wagon to Lady Luck now and then and do better, but you go on anyway, taking what good you might find along with the bad. You don't have a choice. Like that old song says, nobody promised you a rose garden. If anyone did, they lied to you.

In spite of all that's gone wrong this year and in spite of that evil Mr. Murphy and his damnable law, on this Thanksgiving Day I look around and assess my situation and find that there is still much that I can be truly thankful for. When I put aside my personal woes and look at the Big Picture it becomes clear that I am truly blessed in so many ways.

I am in reasonably good health. Some are not.

I manage to eat well. Some are starving.

I am of (more or less) sound mind. Some folks aren't.

I have a job. Although it's not the best it can be right now, others can't find work at all.

I am single. Only myself to provide for. I know many drivers with families who have struggled even harder this year than I have.

I have a home to come back to when I come off the road. Some are homeless.

I can step outside my house without fear that some stranger will shoot me dead. Our troops overseas don't have any such assurance.

I have the assurance that a loving God walks beside me through this life. Non-believers are completely alone.

I know human love, with relatives that love me and care about me. Others have no one at all.

Yes, in spite of all my problems, I am blessed. So on this day, I pause to give thanks.

THANK YOU, GOD, FOR ALL YOU'VE GIVEN ME.

ANOTHER LONE STAR TRIP -- ALAMO THOUGHTS

North Little Rock, Arkansas



Not at home this weekend, after a long run through Texas and back up here, enroute to a delivery later tonight outside Memphis. Hopefully, I will make it back to the Dawg House for the holiday Thursday. We will see.

I was in Saint Anthony, Texas (more familiarly known as "San Antonio") on Thursday and Friday morning. I've been there once before, but that previous trip was probably some eight years ago. On that last trip to Alamo-land I hauled a light appliance load, but on my most recent journey there I lugged a 40,000 pound anchor behind me for almost 1100 miles; a load of diesel engine cylinder heads, which originated at a plant about 25 miles from our terminal in Illinois.

Hauling a heavy load that far aggravates me to no end. I know, I know -- many truckers (reefer drivers in particular) haul heavyweight loads almost constantly, so they would tend to laugh at my griping. However, they don't drive for my company, which tends to haul much lighter loads in general, and sets our trucks up for more moderate loads. When you do get a "lead sled" to haul, with one of our trucks, it's like trying to pull the Queen Mary behind a Volkswagen Beetle. You will see your speedometer begin to run backward on the slightest uphill grades and on the steeper ones, you scratch and claw your way up, with the truck wheezing and gasping all the way, seemingly. You can easily expect to drop as many as four or five gears on a moderate grade and on a steeper one, you might end up with the tranny back in low range again. And that's with thirteen forward speeds, to boot. Grind, grind, grind -- I think I can, I think I can!! Maybe. But somehow, you'll make it to the top, moving at a brisk 20 mph or so, with a whole conga line of angry car drivers backed up behind you. You learn early-on to ignore the sound of auto horns in those circumstances.

"Yeah??? Really?? Like that's gonna speed me up!!" you yell at them, although they can't hear you.

Fortunately, there weren't that many steep hills on the route I took, and it wasn't mountain country at all, really, as I skirted most of the Ozarks. Just a few moderate grades, mainly in Missouri, then onto the relatively flat terrain of Oklahoma and East Texas. Hauling that weight that far takes its toll, though, because watching that speedometer reverse itself seems so counterproductive. You pass a slower truck, go back into the right lane again, then hit a little hill and watch helplessly as your speed falls off and he comes right back by you again. Once you top the hill and get back up to speed, you're running all over his slow ass again! Sighhhhhhh. Repeat this, over and over, for 36 hours and more than a thousand miles and you'll start to see what I mean. It's frustrating. Give me a light load any day!! I soon began to get antsy about unloading my "anchor" and being able to pull a hill at more than walking speed.

The day came. Thursday, and I got to the customer early. Didn't have to wait that long to be unloaded and then felt free as a bird. But I wasn't going anywhere right then; I was totally out of legal hours and more than just a little tired, from the ten-hour jaunt down there from the northeastern corner of Oklahoma. Texas is a humongous state in size. To give you some idea, it's three-hundred and thirty-one miles from the Texas/Oklahoma state line, to San Antonio, traveling straight down I-35. Once you get to San Antone, there's still more than 150 more miles before the interstate dead-ends into a traffic light in Laredo, just a mile or so from the Mexican border. The mile markers on I-20, at the Louisiana line, are numbered with 600-something, and count down as you travel west. It's similar with I-10, which meanders more than 800 miles through the state, before you cross into New Mexico at El Paso. Everything is truly bigger out there.

It wasn't that far through San Antonio, though, down to I-10, and the truckstops that abound down there. I decided to take the "scenic" route, right through downtown, in order to get another glimpse of that historic old shot-up Spanish mission, namely the Alamo. I had passed by it when I was there before, but that was early in the morning, and I got just a passing image of it, lit up in the darkness. Now I could see it in daylight hours. It sits alone, in a square, surrounded by modern high-rise ofice buildings, a stark contrast of old vs new that brings to mind similar mixtures such as you will see in Philadelphia or Boston. Part of the wall that surrounded it back in 1836 has survived all the years, and part of it has been painstakingly reconstructed by various historical societies and by the State of Texas as well. Parts of the mission's familiar arching facade have been reconstructed as well. It sits there, perhaps a mile or so off of the freeway, and I slowed as much as I could, getting a good "mental snapshot" of it. Too many curves and way too much traffic to get a real and clear pic of it, so my description will have to suffice.

The way the Alamo looks today is a pretty accurate representation of what it looked like back in the summer of 1836, when 189 brave defenders held off the entire army of Mexican General Antonio de Santa Ana for an incredible thirteen days, before finally perishing in that final, fatal assault which took place in the pre-dawn hours. Every single defender died that morning. Even from the distance I was at, you get the feeling that this is hallowed ground; from those heroic efforts rose a new republic, which became the state I was now in, only a few years after that ill-fated seige and battle. Here was where Col. William Travis was one of the first to fall; where a desperately ill Col. James Bowie, the co-commander, killed three or four of the invaders from his sickbed, before he was himself bayoneted to death.

Here was also where Tennessee legend David Crockett met his fate. Mexican records have revealed that Crockett didn't die in the battle itself; he survived it, along with nine others, who were all executed after the assault had ended. Crockett was likely defiant to the bitter end, although he was a victim of his own fame, as much as anything. "They can go to hell," he said of the constituents who wanted him to run for another term in Congress, "I'm going to Texas." He went there, believing that the war for Texas independence was over and that he could settle on land there and retire, to hunt and farm for the rest of his life. He found himself caught up in the struggle for independence when he arrived there, however. It most definitely wasn't over. He volunteered to join the others at the Alamo. His fame had preceded him and although he had bargained for none of what followed, he was unable to back out, without totally disgracing himself. Honor being of the highest order in those times, Crockett died a hero, spitting in Santa Ana's direction, when he offered to let the former Washington politician go free.

The sacrifice of those 189 men paid off. It bought Gen. Sam Houston, another transplanted Tennesseean, the time he needed to put a volunteer army together and get them trained. Two weeks after the fall of the Alamo, Houston's army surprised the encamped Mexicans at San Jacinto and routed them completely. Santa Ana surrendered Texas to the new Texans and returned to Mexico in disgrace. Texas at first became an independent republic, then a state a few years later.

As I looked over at that old church standing there, I marveled at the bravery of those men, who were so desirous of freedom and independence that they would all stand together for those thirteen desperate days, knowing fully well that they could not even hope to win, against the army of 5,000 Mexicans that opposed them. The amazing thing is that they were able to hold on for as long as they did -- almost two full weeks, against such overwhelming odds. What it must be like, knowing that you're not going to come out of the struggle alive, but so believing in what you're doing that you carry on, doing what you can and letting the chips fall where they may.

That's a breed of hero that we have very few of, these days. We have gotten soft and take our freedom for granted. Nowdays, our leaders would be more likely to try and negotiate with Santa Ana, rather than fighting him. They would never gain freedom, because everyone who ever did had to fight for it. And fight to maintain it. Too many among us now don't seem to understand that at all, and it's worrisome to me.

"Remember The Alamo" is more than a battle cry; it's a lesson that modern Americans need to re-learn. Before we lose the freedom we've always known.

CHANGE *MAY* BE COMING FOR ME

Cold in K-Town this weekend. The temperature in only in the upper 40s. I found some new fuel line, banged around in my "man-cave" (garage) awhile yesterday and got my leaf blower running again. It hadn't been used in several years and the fuel lines were completely clogged up with dried-up gas/oil mix goop. Flushed out the crud in the tank with fresh gas and filled it with new gas/oil mix. It started up quicker than I'd thought it would and after the initial blue cloud of two-stroke smoke cleared up, it was running strong. Ready to perform its task. Next time I store it I might remember to drain the damned tank and fuel lines out before I put it away.

Blew the leaves off my driveway, especially near the bottom, where they'd piled up good and thick, then been rained on, run over with my 4-wheeler, spun my tires on them, etc. Wet leaves and motorcycles don't mix and crashing a bike sucks, so it's better to do a little work and get the slick-ass things out of the way. But then it got dark and Mother Nature turned off the heat (what there was of it) so I said to hell with it and went back in the house.

This afternoon I started Velvet up and rode out to check out the performance of the new quieter baffles I put in her mufflers two weeks ago. It was a SHORT ride, in 46 degree temperature, let me tell you, but it seemed to run fine. I was bundled up in a sweatshirt, leather jacket, heavy jeans, leather chaps, winter gloves, my full boots, a balaclava over my face and my 3/4 helmet. No wind got to me in that jacket and chaps, but it was still cold. By the time I got back home, I think my butt was frozen to the seat and my face, in spite of the helmet and balaclava, felt like I had stuck my head in a freezer for a couple of hours. The problem was that there's a stiff wind blowing today, gusting smartly at random. It almost caused me to change lanes unwillingly a couple of times. That wind, coupled with the wind chill you create when the bike is moving, is what did me in. You can ride comfortably in colder weather, properly dressed for it, but it's best to pick a calm day and today wasn't one of them. So much for my polar bear experiment. Score: Wind -- 24 Dawg -- 0.

Now, I have an announcement to make. Due to circumstances beyond my control, namely the economy, which is still in the toilet, I *may* be changing to another trucking company by the first of next year. Don't quote me on that; it's not chiseled in stone quite yet, but I am shopping for a gig where I can get better, steadier miles and make more money. We've been hearing "change, change, change" all through this election cycle and I'm now seeking some change of my own. The kind of change I'm seeking is definitely good change, if all works out in my favor.

I've been doing too much sitting and not enough driving throughout this past year. The past summer was almost like a mid-winter at times -- sitting for hours on end, witing to be dispatched on another load and then half the time that not coming until the following day. I'm not trashing the company I've driven for the past ten years -- not at all. Maybe things are beyond their control, too. I know that we lost a major contract with a shipper and that hurt. But it does seem that we have twice as many trucks as we do loads, far too often.

I am paid by the mile. That means that when I'm sitting there, I ain't making a dime. Yeah, there's layover pay, but you have to sit 24 full hours without a load before you can get it and then it's not nearly as much as you'd make if you were rolling. I'll take it, but it's not enough. I have been late paying my bills many times this past year and even missed one payment on my personal vehicle because there wasn't enough money in the bank to cover it. I had to defer that payment, so now I'll have to pay an extra month before the loan is finally paid off next summer. Assuming I don't go in the hole again on another payment, that is. I can't keep a bank balance now, like I used to, to save my life. When the miles are down, the paychecks are smaller, and many of mine have been meager this past year. My back is to the wall, financially, and I've got to do something to help myself. I don't believe in handouts; I created my debts and it's up to me to pay them.

So, I'll do whatever I have to do. There are obstacles, such as my health insurance. I can ill-afford to go without medical coverage for three months until another company's insurance kicks in, and especially prescription medicine coverage. I can't afford to buy my medications out of my pocket. So, I'm going to have to see about insurance carryover, or getting under a new company's insurance right away. There are also things I'm giving up, like the 3 weeks of vacation time I've built up with my present company. No vacation for a year. Start all over. It's no picnic, when you look forward to that time off. However, I'm in the position where I've got to do something that will improve my financial standing. I have to make keeping my bills paid and having enough left to live comfortably a priority.

I'll be talking to a recruiter tomorrow. I met one of this prospective company's drivers at my favorite biker hangout, Coyote Joe's, about three weeks ago and we got to talking shop, after admiring each other's bikes. He asked me how I was making out and I told him not too good, lately. He told me that he sits very little and that his company has plenty of loads to keep drivers rolling. Before we parted company, he took my name and address and told me he would give my name to his recruiting department. Last week, I got a letter from them in the mail. I checked out their website and found that they have the regional driving gigs which I have wanted to get on for years. They have a terminal in Kingsport, TN, about 80 miles from Knoxville. That's sure convenient for me. So, I'll talk to him and find out more.

Stay tuned on this one. I'll let y'all know more when I do.