TRIP ON MERRY-GO-ROUND LEAVES DRIVER STRANDED

Glad You Asked That (reader comment response)

To M88:

First off -- no, your question isn't stupid at all. It's a very good question and if more motorists would ask us truckers about these things, there might be fewer car/truck accidents in the future. You're doing the right thing by getting past the truck as quickly as possible and not hanging out in the "No-Zone," as it's called. The right side of any truck is called the "blind side" and for very good reason -- there are many blind spots on that side of a truck; the driver is seated on the other side and can't see out the window over there at all, leaving him only his mirrors to see what's over there. The most dangerous spot of all on a truck's right (passenger) side is when a car is right up next to the cab door, or right beside the truck's hood. The car will be totally hidden from the driver's view in these locations, and not visible in the mirrors at all. My truck has a "bus" mirror on the right front of the hood, but the way I adjust my seat for my height, I can't see that mirror over the dashboard without leaning forward. And that mirror is worthless at night, as it picks up nothing but glare from my own headlamp! So, be extra cautious at night, when you're on a truck's blind side. You're even harder to see then.



Yes, flashing your lights is a standard signal to a trucker that his trailer is clear of your vehicle and that he can safely move over into the lane you're in. Just be sure that the trailer is well clear of you before signaling him!! You don't want your bumper chopped off. Truck mirrors have a very narrow field of view and a driver has to pull out way ahead of a car he's passing before attempting to return to the proper travel lane. The standard rule of thumb employed by truckers here is "don't change lanes until you can see BOTH the headlights of the car you're passing." For that reason, you shouldn't hug the shoulder, either, trying to give the truck extra room; this makes it even harder for the driver to see if he's clear of you. Helping him out by flashing your lights is always a good idea and many of us will blink or flash a "thank you" with our 4-ways or marker lights.



Jackson, Georgia

Sitting in a Flying Bankruptcy (Flying J) truckstop here this weekend, instead of schmoozing it up at the Dawg House, as usual. This well-known travel center chain has been in Chapter 11 reorganization since last year, thus the pet name I hung on it. It's run by a group of Mormons out in Utah and I think that when Mitt Romney blew so much of his money in his presidential bid last year, that it also pulled the rug out from under the Flying Hook as well. I don't see many signs of reorganizing here, if this location is any example. Same-ol', same-ol', by the looks of things. So, I suppose all that Chapter Elevening is happening out in Salt Lake City, or Provo, or some other Home Office location.

How I came to be stranded here is another story for the annals of this blog, however. It was because of another blinkety-blank, freakin', [EXPLETIVE DELETED] shuttle run that I was saddled with on FRIDAY, of all the lousy days it could have been. Pardon me a moment, while I catch my breath and calm down a bit.

Ahhhh -- that's better. Now then, where was I?

Oh, yeah -- the shuttle run. I hate shuttle runs. They suck. I call them "One Day Wonders," because you have to pick up a load and deliver it on the same day, usually after you've driven all night and slept like crap and are half-past tired to begin with. And, of course, since these runs almost always involve our top customer in some way, they want the load to get delivered at least two hours before you even pick it up. Get the idea? They RUSH you to death, otherwords ["Lone Ranger Theme" in background here]. So add that together: Tired, sleepy, saddled with a load that has to deliver the same afternoon, and forced to bust ass through everything to get it there. Ah, yes -- that should be the formula for a good, safe truck driver on our highways!!! Just be glad that I'm experienced and fully qualified to drive in my sleep. Been doing it for years and no major accidents so far. I just put my brain on Autopilot Mode and go. That goes right along with the Cast Iron Bladder that all truckers have to develop over the years behind the wheel.

The run was from a plant 40 miles south of Atlanta, up to a customer in Welcome, North Carolina -- a distance of some 330 miles. Somehow, I always felt welcome there in the past. Wonder if that has anything to do with why they named the town that? So, got loaded in no time flat and motored my tired butt on up the road toward the destination. Everything went well until I hit the 5 P.M. Charlotte Crunch. Moving like molasses on I-85, for more than 18 miles, through all the suburbs and closer surrounding towns. Average speed -- 8 mph. "Oh, yeah," I commented to myself, sarcastically, "like I really need this shit right now!!" All that wonderful afternoon rush hour traffic, with cars running amok all over the place, and making a trucker have to be ten times extra cautious to avoid squashing someone. I just wanted to get my load there and find a place to crash out for a week or two, but I was going backward all the sudden. I was less than happy, but resigned to it.

I made it through it, eventually, and managed not to kill anyone, or terminally damage any 4-wheelers. I got to Welcome unscathed. I hadn't been there, probably, in five or more years and I promptly turned on the wrong street. Fortunately, I was able to loop back around and came right back to where I'd started. Found the right road this time and arrived at the customer. There I learned that I'd be dropping my loaded trailer, hooking to another loaded one at their dock, and hauling it right back to the same plant in Georgia. I hadn't been there in so long that I'd forgotten that this was a Merry-Go-Round Shuttle and now I faced the other end of it. I kissed goodbye the idea of getting home, or at least of getting any time to spend there at all.

It didn't surprise me at all that the customer knew more about where I'd be going than dispatch did. Dispatch's typical relationship with drivers is a case of the blind leading the blind, usually around in circles. Wanna drive a dispatcher crazy? Put him in a round room and tell him to go pee in the corner. Know what's long and hard on a dispatcher? Third grade. Anyway, I got dispatched on the return load, got hooked up to my new load and blasted out of there. I drove back toward Charlotte, the traffic by now having calmed down, found the closest rest area, parked and was sound asleep before my body plopped down on the bunk.

I had it planned out well yesterday, heading out in time to fuel my truck and get back south of Hot'lanta again, to the same Big Customer's plant. When I got there, right on time (as usual), I was told by security that the receiving department was closed on Saturday and that I'd have to deliver the load bright and early Monday morning. I duly informed dispatch about that -- something else they should know, but didn't, apparently. Well, they do now, don't they? I drove four miles down I-75 and here I am, publishing my thoughts to all of you once again. Be nice to see home again, when and if I ever do!!!

FIRST BIKER BATH OF THE NEW YEAR AND ONE INSANE WEEK

Finally!!!! Decent weather to ride a motorcycle!!! And ride I did, yesterday, almost all day long, making up for weeks of crappy, cold-ass weather and being stuck away from home. I went everywhere -- visited my friends at the Harley shop, rode out into God's Country on the twisty two-lanes that I love on a bike and visited my aunt and uncle for the first time since Christmas. My uncle got some good shots of me and Miss Velvet, but he hasn't send them to me yet, due to an AOL malfunction. I told him that those kinds of malfunctions were why I drop-kicked AOHell last year. He will send them ASAP and then I'll finally have a recent pic of my ugly mug to put on my Facebook profile page, instead of a five year old self-portrait. Laughed myself silly at my aunt, who was all steamed up over their rooster, who has aggressive sexual designs on the chickens out there. That's what roosters DO, I told her, they make baby chickens! It's their nature to be constantly horny.

After leaving there, I rode back into town via a different route and visited my favorite watering hole and "adult daycare center," Coyote Joe's. The usual gang was all there, but Susan, my favorite barmaid, was off for the evening. I missed talking to her, but she'll be back the next time I visit, I suppose. Actually, Coyote Joe's is part of a two-bar operation. The Chrome Pony Lounge is a sister bar and grill, located in a different part of town, and the Coyote and Pony gals rotate back and forth between the two all the time. After having a delicious tenderloin sandwich (one of their specialties), fries, and washing it down with a brew or three, I left before the band started up, not wanting the spend the money for a cover charge.

Fired Velvet up and rode away into the night, blasting the surrounding neighborhood with the rumble of Velvet's Harley pipes. And took my first biker bath of the year. I don't think I had gone a block before a rain shower hit me. Riding a bike in the rain is an experience unlike anything you've ever done before. Especially when some knucklehead like Yours Truly once again neglects to wear his leather chaps. The cars ahead of you kick up rooster tails of spray and the safest place to ride on a bike is right in the middle of the tracks those tires in front of you leave in the road. That minimizes the risk of hydroplaning, because the leading car has plowed 80% of the water out of your path. However, riding in that position also subjects you to the full force of that spray. I was wearing my leather jacket, of course, but nothing but my jeans around my legs. My pant legs were soaking wet within a minute or two. I got shivery quickly, because the wind chill you naturally create when you're moving makes wet denim become very clammy in a heartbeat. And it was windy out anyway. Thought it would blow me into the ditch a couple of times.

There are no windshield wipers on a crash helmet, of course, but when you're moving in the windstream, it tends to blow the water off of your face shield, enabling you to see very well, unless you're caught in a major storm. In that case, it's best to find somewhere dry to pull over and wait until it slacks up. But it's when you're stopped that the water obscures your vision and drips off your chin. And when you start out again, it takes a minute or so for your shield to clear again. I almost rode right over the top of a car in front of me, which was accelerating slower than my Big Truck with a 40,000 pound load in the caboose. Fortunately, disc brakes work far better in the wet than the old drum brakes of yesteryear did and I avoided that nasty situation. I made it home, soaked, fishtailed in my driveway a little, but got it back into my garage unscathed. I wiped Velvet down before I went upstairs, not wanting to ride her, then put her up wet. Got out of my waterlogged jeans and hit the shower. At least that water was warm. But in spite of Nature's Bath, it was still a fun day on my bike.


It wasn't nearly so much fun trucking last week, but it was comical at times. A crazy, insane week in which nearly everything went wrong. I drew a three-stopper early in the week, which ended up in Rockford, Illinois, just south of the Wisconsin line, and about 80 miles west of Chicago. The two intermediate stops were miles apart, both in Indiana, at opposite ends of the state. But I got them off uneventfully. It was when I got to Rockford that my trouble began. It is March -- spring -- and the orange road construction barrels are blooming out like the trees soon will. I-90, which runs through Rockford is, to put it mildly, a Major Mess. It's one of those "Rip Up Pavement -- Rebuild Road" kind of projects, which goes on and on and on and on and on, forever and a day. The first thing I noticed was that they had my exit ramp closed, as in "blocked off." Barricaded. Inaccessible. Etc. Well, now ain't that just fine and dandy?? Boy, howdy!! So now whaddahell do I do?? Keep going, that's what. There's no other choice, actually.

I went five miles further west, to the next exit. I noticed on the way that eastbound traffic was exiting where I needed to go, meaning they only had the ramp closed in one direction. Cool! I'd just get off ahead, make two left turns, and get back on the interstate heading back the way I'd come. Or so I thought, anyway. No such luck. When I got off, I found that they had the eastbound entrance ramp shut down on that exit!!!! [EXPLETIVES DELETED] This is a family blog, after all, but suffice it to say that I was NOT a happy camper at that moment in time. Twenty minutes to make my delivery on time and I was lost in Rockford. GRRRRRRRR!!!

Fortunately, I have an incredibly good sense of direction. You'd BETTER have that gift, if you want to drive a truck -- if you don't, you'll never survive in my business. I knew that if I could find the right major intersection, and turn left, or south, that the road *might* just bring me back out on the U.S. 20 bypass, which was where I needed to be, but had been denied access to because of the consucksion project (so-called because it sucks!) I proceeded south. One light, two lights, three lights, and at the fourth one, hit a 'T' intersection. Flip a coin. Turn which way?? Hmmmmmm. Turned right. One light, two, three, four, five -- no bypass signs appeared. Made a left turn at the sixth light, another major-looking intersection. And bingo!!! The bypass was right there, a block and half away. Now, was I already past the exit off the bypass I wanted, or was it still ahead of me?? Again, which direction did I want to go on the bypass? Decision time; traffic is getting restless behind my big 70-foot-long ass. A couple of horns sounded a reminder. "Up yours!!" said your Dawg. "If you think you're BIG enough, why don't you try MOVING me??!!" I went west. Lucked out. My exit appeared about a mile down the road. Found the place with 45 seconds to spare. "Last Minute Larry" has arrived!!! It was a drop and hook place, so I was in and out of there in about a half-hour.

Deadheaded 140 miles southwest to Mossville, IL, to pick up a load of engines bound for South Carolina, the same crossdock where I had started the week. Starting to feel like a yo-yo, but at least I'm making money again. Not many hours left after my pickup, but I made it as far as Le Roy, IL (yes, the town is actually named that) and a little mom 'n pop truckstop, where I had the buffet dinner. Really good Swiss steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, and two biscuits. Yummy! Then I took some medication for the stinking, rotten cold I've had for seemingly three or four years now. I drank part of a soda, while I waited for the Nyquil to hit me. It did, with a vengeance. I got groggy and went to bed. Woke up early, clear-headed and cough-free, for a change and couldn't find my cellphone -- a vital neccessity for text-messaging trucker pals, calling girlfriends, etc. I nearly tore my damned truck apart -- no phone. Where the hell did I put it?? Double-GRRRRRRRRR! Am I losing my ever-loving MIND???!!! Sighhhhhh. Put it down to a "senior moment," aka "premature Alzheimers. " Started up and drove away. Damned thing has GOT to be in THIS TRUCK somewhere, but I had to boogie. Got a long way to go. I motored east to Indy, then south.

I was outside Corbin, Kentucky when I finally found my elusive phone -- in the top tray of my electric cooler, of all places!!!! I pieced together what I remembered of the previous evening. When the Nyquil hit my brain, I got so spaced-out that I had carried my phone back into the sleeper with me and when I put the rest of my soda in the cooler, so it would stay cold, I had taken the phone with me, set it down on the top tray and was so zonked that I forgot about it completely!! I turned it on and the message ringtone sounded for a half-hour, seems like. My trucker pal, Brian, had been busy. Yep, about 20 messages from him and a couple from my favorite gal. Well, no time now -- gotta roll. Can't be late with a load going to our best customer.
Motored on and arrived about a half-hour early and totally out of hours. Load didn't pick up till Friday afternoon, so I had plenty of time to rest, catch up with Brian and talk to my sweetheart. The load brought me home for a long weekend. I don't leave out until Monday, when I'll head for the Detroit area with my load.

So that was my week. How was yours?

BLOWN AWAY AND IDLE-IS AS IDLE-DOES

Morton, IL

Been stuck up here since Wednesday, believe it or not. I think I'm going to set a record for the longest time a driver can sit without a load! While I'm at it, I'll also probably set a record for the skimpiest paycheck of the year next week, because I can't draw layover pay, sitting here at the terminal. I guess it's considered a home away from home, or something like that. I delivered my load Wednesday morning, then was told to come on up here, to get my truck serviced and have some problems fixed. That was completed Wednesday afternoon, then no load showed up and here I've been ever since.

I was thinking that my hiatus up here might be punishment for idling my truck too much, but a talk with another dispatcher the other night indicated that this is probably not the case. We only hold orientation classes for newbie drivers every two weeks nowadays and Thursday is still Rookie Day here. They graduated a small class this week, and the newbie drivers stole all the loads there were, over Thursday and Friday. They get priority on the loads because they've been out away from home for 4-6 weeks, during training. The Peoria area is very depressed now, because of the financial woes of our biggest customer, who is headquartered in that city and whose plants dominate the entire area around here. They employ more people than anyone else around here and there have been several rounds of layoffs of late. Not good. Not good at all.

I got a nasty Qualcomm message about idle time Thursday. threatening "disciplinary action" if I don't bring my percentage down in the next two weeks. It stated that I am not to idle at all if I'm not in the truck. Well, DUH!!! I mean, I DON'T idle it, if I'm out of the truck for any length of time!!!!!!!! I never have. I might leave it running if I'm only stopping for a brief bathroom break, but that's about all. And just how the hell do they KNOW if I'm in the truck or not?? They haven't got spy cameras in these things (yet, anyway). Only one way they could know that. Company cops. Those self-appointed company policy enforcers who scrutinize every other company truck they see anywhere, to see if the driver is in compliance or not. And if not, they call one of the Suits upstairs and rat that driver out. Back-stabbers, brown-nosers, apple-polishers -- take your choice of a name for these characters. I have some personal names for them, but they're not printable in this family-friendly blog. That's the only possible way they could know, and add that to the warning; I've been spotted by one of these creatures and ratted out to the company brass.

To be honest, there are certain things that I would rat another driver out for myself. If I saw a driver stealing from a load, intentionally damaging or vandalizing company/customer property, or operating a truck in an unsafe manner, I would report them. But that's it. I'm not going to check out every truck I see to see if the driver complies with every bullcrap policy the company runs up the flagpole. Especially if I don't exactly salute that policy. I might say something about it to that driver, in person, but I wouldn't rat him out. I don't like having that done to me and I won't do it to anyone else.

I had good, mild weather Thursday, Friday and yesterday, so I kept it shut down, except for excursions into town, to get a meal. I was careful to shut it off when I left the truck, as there are always many of our trucks around all over the place up here. It turned cooler last night, so I fired it up to stay warm. I ain't freezing and I'm not going to stew in my own juices in hot weather, either. If they want to fire me, so be it. I'll cross that bridge if and when I get there. But I will go on a "idle diet," if that's what they want. Hell, I'll shut the engine off in heavy traffic and at long-holding traffic lights, if that makes them happy. I'll start it up cold and only let it run long enough to shift gears, then take off in it. That's hard on the engine, yes, but it's their truck and if they don't want me idling it long periods, I won't.

Cooler today too, in the 40s, and I'm running it right now, to warm up this cab. Then, I'll shut it down again. At least it's not idling constantly that way. If I can ever get a freakin' load and get out of here, on the road again, it'll help a lot with that percentage I'm supposed to hit. Along with the cooler temps here, we have wind. Oh, yes -- WIND!!!! This area is/was under a severe storm warning until 4 P.M., CDT. Up here, than means "tornado watch." I've observed no funnels so far, but it has been raining, on and off, and that wind will blow you away.

Went up to the truckstop while ago, to get some cough medicine to treat a rotten cold I've managed to catch (and which made me miserable last night). Opened the cab door and had to hang onto it for dear life, in order to keep it from being torn off! Walking across the lot, to the building, I was blown every way but straight. It's a particularly nasty, swirling wind and it feels like a giant hand pushing you to and fro. I tacked my way inside, like a human sailboat, got what I needed, then tacked my way back out to the truck again. Like before, the door was nearly blown off its hinges by the wind and I thought that I'd never get it closed again. But that breeze lulled just enough so that I could slam it closed, finally. In spite of spinning my wheels and making squat for a paycheck these past few days, I'm kind of glad that I'm not out there driving in this squall. It would be miserable, I know.

Well, tomorrow's a new day and hopefully a load will materialize for me and I'll be on my way again. Someday (soon, I hope) I'm going to get be able to have the time to spend with my new lady friend. Things are going unbelievably well for both of us, on the phone and online. If Murphy don't stop plaguing me with his damned law pretty soon, I'm gonna kick his ugly rear all the way back to Ireland!!!

IS IT SPRING YET? NOT QUITE, BUT. . .

March at last! The first month of an approaching spring, when it'll be time to hop back in the saddle of Miss Velvet again, every time I get a chance. And although the new month is coming in like the proverbial lion, with cold winds and rain all this weekend, that gives hope that March will go out like a lamb in thirty more days. This is the transition month, which serves notice to Old Man Winter that his days are numbered and a new spring is on the horizon. But it's also unpredictable, at least in these parts, where we can go from nearly 80 degrees and air conditioning one day, to 30 degrees, with the heat on again, 24 hours later. It has even snowed in March in the past, but it never lasts long. Too late in the year. The worst of winter is in the rear-view mirror now.

Daytona Bike Week is early this month, starting this next week, if I'm not mistaken, and that annual rally always kicks off the new riding season. Sun, surf, suds, and half-nude, shapely female bodies abound down there each year. I've never been to that fabled biker event, but that don't mean I won't -- someday, given the time and opportunity to do so. And enough money to finance the trip, of course. That's a concern for everyone this year, as it was last year, with the present sucky economy. However, there are definite signs that it won't slow us bikers down a lot. Knoxville hosted the annual Easyriders (magazine) Bike Show just last month and it was a large success. The Harley shop and Coyote Joe's -- my favorite local watering hole and "adult day care center" -- were both packed with bikes, many in here from other states for the event. I have to wonder about Honda's wisdom, since I saw that crowd.

Each year, for the past ten years or so, Knoxville has hosted the annual Honda Hoot rally every summer, over in World's Fair Park. But this year, the company canceled it early-on, back in December, in fact, citing "economic concerns" as the primary reason. It costs Honda a million bucks per year to put the rally on. They, like all the other motorcycle manufacturers, are taking their lumps in these tough times. Sales are slow, to say the least, and credit is tight. But the Honda Hoot last year, when the economy was also in a downturn and fuel prices were soaring to boot, raked in over twenty-five million shekels over the four days it was held. If such outrageous fuel prices as we experienced last summer couldn't keep the bikers away, will this recession do so, when fuel is as low as it's been in years right now? If the Easyriders show is any indication, it won't at all. I'll be watching Daytona with interest, to see if the crowd there is up to the usual levels of the past. If the crowds flock down there, as usual, then it's likely that Honda may have made a major blunder in canceling the Hoot this summer.

Even the venerable Motor Company -- Harley-Davidson -- is taking the same punches as the others. Their sales are on the basement floor also. Our local dealership's showroom here is mainly filled with used bikes, indicating the level to which production of the new ones has been cut back. It matters not that bikes are easier on gas than your average car; that's a great selling point, but when push comes to shove, motorcycles are still primarily leisure products, just like RVs, and that sector has fallen on some very hard times of late. Harley has survived some very tough economic times in the past, though -- like the Great Depression -- and they will survive this crunch as well. They are among the companies that have stood with their head held high and haven't asked for a government bail-out. That speaks well for how the company is managed.

But enough about that gloomy picture. Spring is coming and it's time to ride again. I've had Velvet serviced for the first time, taking advantage of a winter discount the dealer was offering, and I'm ready to go. If you own a bike, are you?? Let's ride!!

A RUMOR, GETTING T.W.I.C.'ed, NAGGING HABITS, ETC.

From The Rumor Mill:

Latest rumor has it that your Dawg *may* just have a new lady friend who lives in a neighboring state. I can neither confirm nor deny this rumor at the present time, due to certain circumstances. Stay tuned to this blog for future developments.


All About T.W.I.C.

Commonly referred to as "TWIC," the new Transportation Worker's Identification Credential is the latest in unfunded official U.S. government red tape that truckers have to deal with. It's an active ID card, similar to a military ID, which identifies truck drivers, longshoremen, and other personnel who work around U.S. ports and allows them access to the secure areas of those facilities without having to have an escort. This is a great convenience when picking up or delivering a load to a port terminal, which is why truckers who go to port facilities are required to have one. Applicants for a TWIC must pass a comprehensive background check by the local cops, state police, FBI, CIA, NSA, Scotland Yard, and Interpol, I think, to insure that they aren't the sort of person who likes to blow things up and watch them go "boom." The card is issued by the U.S. Coast Guard, the program is administered by the TSA (Transportation Screw-up Administration), and you make the money order out to Lockheed-Martin, an aircraft company. It's your government at work, so go figure! The whole gang's in on the act, seems like.

I got TWICed this past Monday, in Chattanooga, the closest local port to where I live. Knoxville is also on the same river, but it's NOT a port -- hmmmmmmmm. Interesting. Wonder what all those tugboats and barges DO, down on our local riverfront here? I applied for my new "security clearance," took a loyalty oath, promised not to tell anyone, on fear of torture and death, and so on. The lady (very pleasant and friendly) told me to check the website in 4 weeks or so, to see if my card is ready to be issued. Then I have to drive down there again, live and in person, to get it activated and finally put the thing in my wallet. It's good for five years and then I'll have to do the same stuff all over again, if I'm still driving at that time. My company DOES reimburse us for the card, and that's the good thing about it, at least. Danged thing set me back $135.00. I pay for my own gas, down there and back, of course. You can't have everything.

Whole application thing took about 20 minutes, fingerprints and all. It's all electronic now -- just stick your hand in a box and she clicks her mouse and voila! Your prints are now in TSA's computer system. This begs a question: Why do you have to do it all over again in five years?? Like your fingerprints change, or something??!! So far as I've ever known, fingerprints are forever! Always stay exactly the same. They already have them on file, so why can't they just pull them back up, run a new check, then renew the freakin' card if everything's okay??

[Offstage Whisper] "Because it's the government, dumbass!!"

Oh, yeah. You got that right! That'd be way too simple for Uncle Sammy and his bureaucratic pencil-pushers in D. C. Logic goes right out the window when the Fed gets involved with anything. Oh, well -- I may go to a port once every two or three years, on average, but by golly, I'll HAVE that thing the next time I pick up a brutally heavy load of tire retreading rubber from Indonesia in N'awlins!! Nope, this Dawg ain't no terrorist, to anything other than mice, rats, and bratty eight-year-olds.


Nagging Trucker Habits

Anybody ever hear of a "ghost trailer?" Well, I pull one behind me, every now and then. This happens most often when I'm bobtailing, but has also occurred while driving my own personal pick-em-up truck. I'll pull all the way out into the middle of the intersection, or opposing turn lane, so that the invisible trailer behind me won't run over the curb, tear a power pole down, or total someone's parked car. On the interstate, this also manifests itself in the form of passing a slower vehicle and continuing on for an eighth of a mile or so, before returning to the right lane again. Don't want to squash any 4-wheelers with that ghost trailer!! ALL truckers have done this at times and any of them who claim they haven't is a damned liar, and I'll call them that to their face! This ghost trailer driving is pure habit, caused by that fifty-three foot boxcar on wheels that follows you around everywhere you go. A good habit, actually, although it may look a little strange to observers who are unfamiliar with trucking.

A common newbie driver habit which afflicted me when I was in my rookie years is speed perception. The larger the vehicle you operate, the less sensation of speed you have. If you've ever stood next to a semi rig, you know how BIG we are. Thus, you don't feel your speed in a Big Truck as much as you do in your SUV or car. Adjusting from one vehicle to the other can take time, and if you also ride a motorcycle, fuggitaboudit!! Climb on that bike (the smallest vehicle on the road) and you feel like you have a rocket strapped to your butt, compared to a car or a semi!

I still fondly remember the first time I got back home for the weekend, after my first full week out on the road. I grabbed my stuff, tossed it in the bed of my Chevy, and headed to the Dawg House. I hit I-75 and motored south, toward town. I held it at a speed which felt the same as the 65 mph I averaged in my Big Truck. Didn't take me long to notice that I was passing an awful lot of other vehicles. "Damn, why is everyone going so slow today?" I asked myself out loud. Then, I looked at my speedometer. Ninety. Er -- uh -- well, I --uh -- guess I'd better slow this thing down a little, before I lose my then-new CDL!! I slowed to a more reasonable 65, watching the speedometer meticulously from then on. Felt like I was doing about 40. Takes some getting used to, let me tell you!!

MY WILDEST RIDE

In eleven years on the road, I've taken some wild rides at times. I've been blown every which-a-way by tropical storms and the aftermaths of at least two hurricanes. I've been close enough to a tornado to feel the twisting effects of those high-powered storms first-hand and I've soldiered on to many destinations through strong prairie "breezes" that were trying to blow me right off the road into the ditch. I've slogged through sand and mud and mucho snow. An icy road had me creeping down a steep hill one time, with my trailer half-sideways all the way to the bottom of it. And just a few weeks ago, I ran off the pavement in a wet, slushy snow and spent several tense seconds trying to keep my caboose behind me, instead of having it pass me up. I've made it through all of the above somehow unscathed, with God's help and a little driving skill. But in all those years and through all the crap that's come my way, I've never had a wilder ride than I took this past Thursday night and Friday morning. And this one had nothing whatsoever to do with the weather. 

However, it began with weather -- plenty of the nasty winter stuff. I brought a load over from New Joisey (New Jersey, actually) and delivered it in a small northeastern Ohio town, about 60 miles from Cleveland. The weather there on Wednesday was beautiful, considering that I'd driven mostly in light snow in Jersey, and through the mountainous western region of Pennsylvania. Blue skies, bright sunlight -- just great weather for a welcome change. I got my load off in short order and got dispatched very quickly. Only one problem, though -- the new load didn't pick up until Thursday night, in downtown Cleveland,  and then I'd have to do an all-nighter to the destination in Illinois, a few miles from Peoria, since it was due there at 7 A.M. on Friday morning. Oh, well, time to rest awhile. I needed it, since I'd been running like a scared thief all week, up to that point. I headed to the closest truckstop, to take my extended break and on the way I heard the weather folks on a local radio station saying that nasty stuff was headed my way that night and all day Thursday. I looked at the blue sky. Not a cloud in it. Not one. "Are they nuts???!!" I asked myself. It sure looked like anything but snow right then. 

Have you ever noticed that weather forecasters are never wrong when it comes to predicting BAD weather?? They only blow their forecasts out the bathroom window when they predict good weather conditions. It's maddening, but that's always the way it seems to be, ain't it? I shouldn't have questioned their accuracy so glibly, like I did, because when I woke up on Friday morning, Mother Nature had once again taken a dump on the area I was in. It was snowing sideways, very hard, and my truck was parked directly downwind and getting blasted. The flakes looked to be the size of walnuts at times. And the radio weather people were patting themselves on the back and jeering at me:  "See? We told you so, didn't we?? Welcome to our northern Ohio lake effect snowstorms, stranger!!" Lake Erie is just a few miles from where I was and you get some particularly nasty stuff that builds up over that large body of water. 

And some very strange stuff as well. For example, you can drive less than twenty miles in any direction and you might run out of it altogether, into sun and blue skies once again. It snows like an Alaskan blizzard for a half-hour or so, then just tapers off to nothing at all. Just like someone had dumped all the wind and frozen water crystals (snow) out of it completely. Then, just as suddenly as it stopped, it will start up again and resume blasting you just as furiously as before. And that's the way it went, all day long, while I read, napped, and schmoozed in general. The wind was so strong that it blew the flakes to God Knows Where and didn't actually accumulate all that much on the parking lot at all. I went inside at one point and when I came back out, I had a tailwind all the way back to my truck. I think I crossed that lot in ten seconds flat, with the "push" I was getting. If I'd had on skis, I could have glided back, all the way, without moving a muscle, since my body was acting like a big, overweight sail!! Steering might have gotten a little tricky, though. 

Thursday night came and I fueled up during one of the lulls between snow-blasts, then headed west, for the 50 miles to the shipper. I hoped that Cleveland's municipal snow removal crews had cleared the streets during the day, because many of those in-town streets where I was going are decidedly narrow, without much room to allow for any slipping and sliding around the corners. I didn't particularly care to buy the City of Cleveland, Ohio a new power pole or two and I certainly didn't want to cause a localized power outage that would cost some residents their lights and heat. And leave little old me as the scapegoat. But, I needn't have worried, because the roads cleared up nicely just a few miles west of the truckstop in Austinburg and by the time I got to my destination, all the city streets I had to run on were only wet. Very little snow on them at all. 

It was a chemical company, so I knew, logically, that my load would be chemicals. What kind, I didn't know, but I would find out soon enough. The guard up front sent me around to the rear docks, where the gate was already opened up for me. A spacious dock, for an in-town shipper, for a change. I made a u-turn inside the gate (which had already closed again) and backed into the easiest dock I could get to. I was the only truck in there at that time, so I had the whole dock area to myself. I then went in to shipping, gave them my pickup number, then returned to the truck to wait for them to load me up with whatever it was I was getting. I felt the bumpety-bump bouncing of the trailer on its supension, as a forklift rolled on and off of it, with the pallets of whatever. 

After maybe twenty minutes, the green "go for it" light came on, indicating that they were done, off the trailer, and that I could go in and get the bills on the load. I did so. Signed on the dotted line, received a handful of hazmat placards, and was wished a safe trip by the office crew. Placards had a skull and crossbones on them, so this was evidently poisonous something-or-other. I studied the bills in my hand. Some kind of alcohol-based solvent, apparently. No, not hardly the kind you'd want to drink at all. I put placards on both sides of the trailer, then pulled out of the dock and up the sloping driveway far enough to close the doors and put the last placard in the holder on the left-hand side. Ten big yellow metal tanks of the stuff, roughly equivalent to 55 gallon drums in size. So, I estimated that I had close to 600 gallons of the stuff onboard my box. I closed and sealed it, placarded it, then eased up and stopped to allow the gate (automatic on exit) to open, then eased out onto the deserted street. That's when my wild ride began. 

I noticed it at every stop sign and traffic light, well before I got back to the freeway. Every time I stepped on the brake pedal, my cargo would slosh around in the tanks back there, causing my whole truck to rock back and forth, like a child's rocking horse. Under power, it didn't seem to be so bad -- I could barely feel it at all, but change my speed at all -- even by letting up on the accelerator a little -- and it was like being in a rowboat in an ocean full of ten-foot swells. "I'm gonna get seasick!" I said out loud. "And I'm on dry land -- in a truck!!!" 

I thought that surely once I was up to highway speed, things would smooth out, and they did seem to, when I got back on the interstate and headed out of town. Cloverleaf ramps were a little tricky, because the liquid back there would slosh toward the inside of the curve, making the truck want to oversteer in that direction, so I had to take it slowly on them. But once I was rolling on the Big Road, the undulationg motion seemed to go away. Until, that is, I had to hit the brakes in order to avoid running over a scaredy-cat driver who lost it completely whenever the wind blew a little snow across the road in his path. When I did, the rocking of my trailer was amplified by my now much higher speed. It was like riding a mechanical bull in one of those movies! 

I wanted to let off the brakes, but couldn't, of course, without running all over the top of the Nervous Nellie in front of me. The left lane cleared out at last, and I was able to put that one in my rear-view mirror. "If you're that afraid of a little blowing snow, why don't you take that thing home and park it??" I gruffly asked him, as I blew past him. But there were plenty more ahead just like him and I didn't get any relief until I got onto I-71, heading for Columbus, then to points west of there. I wasn't going due west, through Chicago, that night. I wanted to get as far south as I could, and out of that lake effect crap for good. As it turned out, I had to get almost to Columbus before I did. Big storm system. 

500 MILES, driving that 18-wheeled mechanical bull!! I think my body was still rocking back and forth in my seat when they unloaded me in Mapleton, Illinois on Friday morning. I was never in my entire trucking career happier to get rid of a load! I wanted to tell my dispatcher that I didn't care what kind of load he got me to go home with, just as long is it don't slosh!!! I didn't actually get motion sickness and I kept all my food down just fine, but it was hard to focus my eyes when I stopped, because they were still rolling up and down in my skull. 

That experience was definitely -- different. And I can do without any repeats of it. 

OUT IN THE WOODS AND DEAD IN THE WATER

I've been playing this trucking game long enough so that I can often predict things that are likely to happen with a great deal of accuracy. A good case in point was last week, when I picked up a load with two delivery stops on it, the latter of which would stick my butt in a little town way out in the woods of North Carolina, almost right on the coast. I had never been that close to the fabled Outer Banks before and at first I was curious to see what the area looked like out there, as the weather was predicted to be nice and pretty warm as well, up near 70 degrees. So, I loaded up in an Atlanta suburb and headed northeast, with the prospects of seeing some countryside that I'd never seen before. 

But then, after finally finding the obscure little burg in my road atlas, The Fear hit me. I mean, this little town was really OUT THERE in God's country. Looked to be at least 100 miles from I-95 and civilization, as truckers know it. Very likely no truckstops in a town that tiny, and probably none in that entire remote area. A dread came over me. I KNEW, somehow, at that early point, that there would be no backhaul load awaiting me when I got unloaded and sent in my "Empty" message to dispatch. No load and nowhere to park and stay awhile, until one could be found, eventually. And I am quite familiar with that "Mad Irishman," Mr. Murphy and his Law, and due to that it was safe to assume that I would sit awhile, waiting. When you're already cut and bleeding anyway, Murphy just loves to come by and toss a shakerful of salt in the wound. That is his nature. I would kill Murphy with my bare hands and a smile on my face, if I could find him, but nobody can. He hides himself very cleverly. 

However, the nature of trucking being what it is, I had to go, and so I did. I got my first stop off quickly, then headed north and then east, toward the coast. It would be quite pretty country out there in the summer months, when the trees are green, but it's bleak in winter, as you might expect. Flat land and little traffic on the roads. Well off the beaten path. Once I moved east of the last major town, it was flat and desolate. Very little traffic on the road, and I drove for miles without even passing another truck. Nope, this wasn't looking good at all; the less truck traffic there is, the less likely it is that there'll be any services and amenities designed for us. Nobody in their right mind would build a truckstop in an area where so few trucks run; they'd go bankrupt overnight. 

There may be a few tiny little places out there, but you can bet that only local drivers know about them, and they're not about to tell YOU. They keep those places secret -- the reason being that if they told visiting truckers where they are, their lots would be filled with trucks before you could say "hello." Truck parking spaces have always been in short supply, for as long as I've been driving, and it hasn't gotten one bit better. So, the local yokels keep their hidey-holes' locations to themselves, so they'll always have somewhere to park. When I think about it, I can't really blame them one bit. 

Again, I got unloaded quickly, then punched in my Empty message. Less than five minutes later, I got the message I'd predicted I would two days earlier:  No Load. I had asked the guy who unloaded me about truck parking when he signed my bills. He smiled and shook his head in the negative. Nothing he was aware of, just as I'd suspected. Once again, the Dawg Prophet was right on target with his prediction! No load and nowhere to stay. 

I definitely couldn't sit in the little side street I was on forever, so I sent a message to dispatch, telling them there was nowhere there to stay and that I was heading back west, the way I'd come, to try and find a roosting place. I hit the road and reversed course. Back through the wilderness, looking at every restaurant, to see if it had truck parking (very few do, anywhere), every lot I spotted, but they were all private property and verboten. Back through the first major town, asking truckers on the CB if they knew of any place. The ones who bothered to answer me at all didn't. Didn't see a thing there, so kept going, to the next, larger, small city on my route. But I had been through Greenville, NC enough times to know there wasn't anything there that I knew about. One driver did suggest a place I was unaware of, and I checked it out, only to find that every one of the few parking slots was occupied. There wasn't even enough room in it to play invent-a-spot, without being in someone's way. 

I moved on. Nothing in Wilson, another small city, and being so close to I-95 again, I just decided to hit the Big Road and then drove 13 miles south, to Kenly, where I knew there were at least four large truckstops. I ended up at the T/A there, which was being remodeled, but had a huge lot, still mostly empty in the early afternoon. I set my brakes a little past 3 P.M., CST on Wednesday afternoon, then headed to the restaurant, for a meal. Dispatch wasn't happy with my having driven so far to find a truckstop, but what could I do? When there ain't nothing, there ain't nothing! I told them that I wasn't able to wave a magic wand and make one appear out of nowhere. I'm not David Copperfield, by a long shot. I had looked everywhere, and there was nothing. BAD area for a truck to be stranded in, without a load. The further you get from the interstate nowadays, the harder it is to find any truck services. Since the interstate system was completed, almost all the truckstops have relocated to the Superslabs. That's where most of the traffic (and the money) is now. There are a\few mom 'n pop places, here and there, still operating out in the boonies, but they don't advertise and you don't know where they are, unless they happen to be right on your route. And most of them are slowly going out of business, unable to get enough clientele to keep operating. 

So, I sat and sat, and sat some more. A little over 48 hours, in fact before I got dispatched at last, Friday afternoon, at 4:45 P.M. I thought at times that everyone in dispatch had died. That maybe my company had gone out of business and forgotten to tell me. Then I reminded myself that they would likely want their truck back, if that were the case, so I couldn't help but know about something like that. And another Star truck was parked across the lot from me, who'd been there almost as long as I had, so I wasn't playing the waiting game alone, at least. Just the sucky economy, rearing it's ugly head once more, and biting drivers like me smack in the wallet. 

And it seems there are many, many drivers out here just like me, or even worse. Owner-operators, of course, are feeling the crunch the hardest, like they always do. Want to own your own truck and roll down the road? Wait awhile -- that's my advice. This AIN'T a very good time to go independent, unless you enjoy losing your shirt. There are more trucks than there are loads, nationwide, and that's the problem. Sharply scaled-back production, laid-off plant workers, and not a lot of demand for products has made the loads for trucks dwindle to a trickle, across the board, and has practically come to a halt in some sectors. Freight volume hit the basement floor in December, with tonnage down close to the single digits, and it hasn't come back up as yet. And it may not move upward a lot this year, say Those Who Know about these economic things. 

O/Os have told me about sitting for close to a week, trying to find a load to get them back close to home. Many have just hung it up and sold their trucks for whatever they could get out of them. For all too many, it was a choice of either losing the truck, or losing their house. Those who could get hired on have moved to company driving positions, giving up their independence in order to make their mortgage payments. And although they don't have all the expenses, driving for a company, loads and miles are still down, making it hard to keep the bills at bay. I can tell you that from my own bitter experience.  

I don't know when it's going to get better. Nobody does. We can only hang on and hope. It's bad everywhere. And now fuel prices have slowly started creeping back upward again. Nothing like it was early last year, but any upward trend there is very bad news. Add high fuel prices to the current load shortfall and I just don't know how many companies will be able to stay in business. I could easily lose my job, along with many other drivers, if things become a lot worse. Even eleven-year veterans won't be spared if it gets bad enough. Sobering thoughts indeed. 

All you can do is hope and pray that the situation will improve quickly. So, I'm still out here, picking up what loads there are and delivering them and praying that this crunch gets better in the near future. That's all I can do.