The 18 Wheeler

Epilogue

2008-11-19T21:15:00.000-08:00

Off road, and in class.

Wow. It’s been so long since I’ve been back here. I feel like a different person—the old me, actually. I can't begin to tell you how weird it feels to type this not over a steering wheel, rather a real desk and chair. I’m also a little surprised that the counter keeps going despite the fact that I explained in the last entry that “this” was over.

I believe that adding content to this project (especially now that I'm off the road) would water down the integrity of the work that I’ve created. As I sit here writing, I feel almost like a fraud; Like I’m defacing a classic structure with pointless, self-promoting graffiti. While my experiences will always stay with me in my mind, this journal speaks to me of a former life—a book that I have already read and put away on the shelf. This weblog is not me anymore, and it would seem inappropriate and uninteresting of me to dirty it up with the ramblings of a “four-wheeler.”

In any case, I do sometimes go back and look through my old posts. I go back to remind myself of the people I’ve met and the experiences I’ve had—both positive and otherwise; After all, I do not detest my career behind the wheel—Quite the opposite. I consider it a great accomplishment to have ventured out on something so seemingly not “me.” Sometimes it’s hard to believe that I’ve actually ‘been there—done that,’ and viewing the proof of my experience through my own pictures and words become a practical means of remembering. Doing so is very important for me, more so as the time between then and now grows longer. Realistically and in retrospect, this web journal was probably more for me than any kind of outside audience.

I am discovering, however, that my final post was fairly open-ended. As of late, I’ve received several emails asking me to post an update. Some people are curious as to my whereabouts, and some wonder if I made it back into teaching. Still others (I can only imagine) are simply addicted to all things Jason, and are probably stalkers looking for a way to find out where I ended up.

Stalkers, grab a pencil and paper and pay attention.

While I was more than a little excited to get out of the truck and off the road, the major reason for my career-ending decision was to free up time to pursue my teaching career. For a couple of months, I lived with “the folks” and helped them refurbish their house. There was a lot of work to be done, but mostly it was good time I got to spend with them. I worked some days on the house, and some days with my dad, and kept my living situation rent-free. It was a pretty sweet deal on both ends. I know this sounds a bit morbid, but I know that one day, in the hopefully distant future, I’ll look back and be grateful for the time spent with them.

June and July are pretty big months when you’re looking for employment in education, and if I were going to find a job teaching, it’d probably be around this time. There were many days where I’d head up to the mall’s food court (wireless Internet and people-watching) and spend hours searching online for work. I lost count how many school districts I’d applied to, limiting my search only to districts that were within California.

After weeks of not hearing back from any of them and a checking account that was “circling the drain,” I decided to take the few dollars I had left and ride my motorcycle up and down the 101, stopping by as many school districts as I could between Southern California and the Bay Area. My plan was to introduce myself to as many principals as possible, hand out hundreds of resumes, and come home with at least a few leads. I look back now and figure that I just couldn’t take the sitting around, waiting for call-backs.

While the motorcycle trip was a blast, those labors produced no fruits. It was a couple days after I had returned that I finally got a call from a principal in a Monterey County school that saw my online application. A couple days later, I was back up the 101 for a Friday interview.

The following Monday, my now-principal called me back and offered me the position. I would be teaching Kindergarten in a small agricultural town named King City. Of course, I gracefully accepted, jumped up and down a couple of times, and sighed in a manner that reflected my emotions—relief and joy.

Below is a picture of me (on the far right) attending the new teacher seminar, at the King City Elementary School District office.

When I tell people now about King City, most people admit to never having heard of it. I had never heard of it either, and unless you get off the 101 for gas, you might not even know it’s there. Sometimes I’ll talk to someone and they’ll say, “Oh, yeah… I got a speeding ticket there once.”

Oh yeah—King City has a Highway Patrol office—FYI.

It was at this point in time, right after the job offer, when all of my cards started to fall into place. I found a perfect apartment in nearby Greenfield, and all of my future coworkers were friendly, helpful, and informative. I got my dad to help me move 340 miles, both of our trucks loaded down and towing trailers. The whole trip up, I wouldn’t let my dad go over 55 (you can take the boy out of the truck…). My entire life fit in a Honda Ridgeline, a ’93 Toyota Pickup, and two small trailers. A life full of classroom supplies, the random junk I’ve acquired over the years, a new bed, and a motorcycle.

After my dad left, I had a couple of weeks to get my life in order. I got settled into my new house, and my new town. About a week before the first day of school I started setting up the classroom. There was a lot of work to do, but I did it with a smile in anticipation of meeting my new class. Then, in the last two weeks of August, it happened—The first day of school.

That morning, I met 20 kids—Kids that would be the new focus of my life for the next nine months. It was a feeling of indescribable responsibility and joy. There’s nothing quite like having 40 eyeballs looking at you, all of them curious to the process of going to school. It was a feeling that was coming back to me, as it had been a little while.

Room 14 is a tight group. Now, almost four months into the year, I’d say that we’re very close to being what some might call a family. Each of my students have a personality all their own, and I have very individualized interactions with each of them. I have students that try and test me each day, both in how much they can get away with and in what they can learn.

I have students that get frustrated easily and rely on constant reassurance that they’re doing a great job to keep them going. I have students that miss their parents, students that can’t sit still, and students that ask me for more homework. I have students that work hard to tie their shoes, students that tie others’ shoes for them, and students that have a hard time keeping their shoes on the whole day. Every day someone cries, but it’s rarely me.

Sometimes at recess, students get hurt. A fact of life for kids, sometimes it happens. Sometimes, a student takes a fall and cries so feverishly that I’m the only one (on campus) that can ease their pain and help them recover from a vicious boo-boo. While I push my students towards independence and strength, the big mushy spot on my heart is always secretly flattered that my students see me as a healer and a comfort.

While my professional future will—for the most part—always be uncertain (have you seen the governor’s latest budget?), I feel very good right now. I’ve been successful in making the transition back into teaching, which was a move that I was a little afraid that I would have problems with. What’s more, is that with the economy the way it is, I have a commercial driver’s license to fall back on and nine months of experience that tells me that I could do it if I had to.

It’s no secret that trucking wasn’t the life for me, but I think that statement may only ring true because of my passion for teaching. Throughout my time on the road, in truck stops, and in the nooks and crannies of this country’s warehouses and manufacturers, I never felt as if I really was a fish out of water. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not claming to be a professional super-trucker of any kind, but it’s almost like trucking was somehow in my lineage, a trait visible in my DNA. In fact, I get 2 or 3 months off every summer, and I really can’t think of a better way to spend them than behind the wheel of a rig.

Thanks again to all those that have wondered where I am and what I’m doing. For the comments and emails about both me, and the weblog, I’m deeply flattered. Keep the rubber side down, come on.

Out.

2008-06-09T17:12:00.000-07:00

Usually, when I don't post for a really long time, it's because there's nothing new or notable going on in my life. Usually, I get bored of updating the world on the smallest minutiae of my every-day life. "I haven't showered in..." or "This is a picture of me standing in front of..." is to me, not helping in my efforts to win that Caldecott Award for writing excellence. I'm the first to admit it--Sometimes, I bore myself.

But that's not why I've prolonged posting for this long. Not this time.

The reason this post has taken me so long to squeeze out is because I actually have a lot to say, and I'm a little weary about both what I'm doing, and how I'm going to put it into words.

I decided a few months ago, that while I'm enjoying my time out on the road, I desperately miss being home. Although I'm not married (or even dating anyone [Ladies, now's your chance!]) and don't have any dependents running around, I do have a strong network of friends. It's a network that I've taken for granted for a long time, before I left home for months on end.

In fact, there's a million things that keep my mind on home--Family, friends, pleasant Southern California weather, my motorcycle, a real bed, a real shower, and so on, and so on. Of this list however, one of (if not the) biggest items, the one I keep up at the top, is an item I talked about in my very first post:

"...I venture out on 18 wheels because I now have the time to do so. While teaching and working with children has been, and will always be, my greatest life accomplishment, I now find myself on hiatus from these goals. I know that I will be returning to education one day in the not-so-distant future because I really feel that's where I belong..."

I am a teacher. Plain and simple. I feel that I will always be one. You know those people that win the lottery and keep their job because they enjoy it, using their salary as a means of funding their antique hairbrush collection or emu farm? That'd be me, emus and all.

When I came home on the second day of April, I decided that life on the road had been too much for me to take, and that a measly 4 days home simply wouldn't be enough. Not by a long shot. Not only was the short home time annoying, it was also keeping me from getting the job I want.

How am I supposed to go to interviews if I'm 2500 miles away? How can I apply for a position and hope that they'll wait for me to get home before they fill it? In reality, I can't. The trick is, I finally figured out, to save up a little money and then get out.

And that's exactly where I'm at now--Out.

My current quest is to find two jobs. I'd like to find a job teaching, which would start in September, and I'd like to find a job that will keep me busy and off the roads until then. So far, I've applied at a dozen or so schools up and down the California Coastline, and I'm waiting to hear back from them. My guess is that I'll start to hear from schools in July, as that's when most schools concentrate on their hiring (I think).

In the meantime, the search for a Summer job 'round here is just as uneventful. It seems that nobody likes to respond to my applications and resumes, even with a "no, thank you," or even a "would you please leave us alone!" It seems like bad business to me to leave someone hanging. Come to think of it, I do have some resumes to resend and businesses to boycott.

Because I used to make tons of money as a teacher ('tons' being a relative term) I have a fat tax refund to live off which should last me until the end of the month. Also, I am working in the family business until I can get a "real" job, so in essence, I'm not going to starve. I may not be able to eat at The Crab Cooker every night, but I'll get by.

This has been, and is currently, a really hard time for me. I've spent the last month and a half in kind of a 'limbo' stage. As hard as it was to sleep in a truck stop or back a truck down a narrow, one-way street, it's even harder to live with my parents (there, I said it) and not be certain of my future. It's hard to look around at my friends, already deep in their careers and family life and not think to myself that life is passing me by.

As down as I sometimes get, I understand that life is not fair--and in the end, I'm an optimist. Uncertainty is just as much a possibility for greatness as it is for devastation, and there's a lot of good in my life. I'm home with my friends and family, who at the moment are all without health concerns, I'm not in New Jersey, I get to see my nephews and my good friends once or twice a week, I'm concentrating on my next move (whatever that may be), and I can ride my motorcycle as often as I want.

I was watching the season premier of Ice Road Truckers last night (something I couldn't have done from the truck) and thinking back a month and a half to my days on the ice-less road (mostly ice-less, anyway). On the show, there was a guy who had to sit around waiting for a truck and a load, and I was reminded of the few instances where I'd have to just sit, waiting either for other people to get their act together, or for pieces of a puzzle to fall into place before I could roll.

As I thought back, I remembered how often my DM, Jen, kept me rolling, kept me happy, and kept me earning money. Granted, there were situations where nothing could be done but wait, but really, Jen worked hard for me. In talking to other drivers out on the road, both Swift and other, I realized how lucky I was. There were many other drivers who couldn't get along with their driver managers, and while I often thought that the fault in the relationship might have lied with the driver more than their support, I'd always had the opportunity to brag about mine.

Jen, this one's for you:

Of course there are things I'm going to miss about being out on the road. While I was certainly limited as to where I could drive a 40-ton truck, there was a sense of exploration to my day. As nerve-racking as it was, I LOVED getting to drive into a city. I loved seeing new places, and facing new challenges on a daily basis.

I liked the physical aspect of maneuvering the truck. Backing a 65-foot truck is a life-skill that not everyone gets a chance to practice, and it was something that I was just starting to get good at. In fact, my very last delivery here in Fontana, required me to do a blind-side back into a narrow dock. To my surprise, I backed it right up to the dock on the first try. I didn't even have to pull up once, which to me was pretty amazing. I felt like Jerry Seinfeld, ending an era (albeit a short era) on a high note.

Perhaps the most amazing aspect to my job were the people I met. In every other job I've ever had there were a limited number of people to interact with each day. Often times, it was with the same group of people, day after day, after day. I got the chance to meet with a multitude of people on any given week, and learn something from each of them. As some warehouse workers were very focused on the task at hand, others were overly-willing to tell you about their lives or the culture and happenings of wherever we were. I always liked learning from these people.

Sometimes, I was able to talk to people over the radio. Most of the time, some other trucker would break in and add their unwanted two cents about the topic, often involving a mother and a lewd act, but there were times I made connections with other drivers. Leaving Laredo, Texas, for example, I was talking to another Swift driver over the CB.

This other driver, Tom, was fresh back to the road after being on sick-leave for over 6 months. Tom had been dealing with a series of illnesses, the biggest of which being Cancer, and had to get off the road to attend a daily chemotherapy regime. He told me how being home to deal with his illness gave him a chance to visit with his sick, bedridden father on a daily basis. Every morning after his therapy, Tom would walk a short distance to his parent's house, where he'd get the chance to visit and become re-aquainted with his parents, whom he hadn't seen in years.

It was the same week that Tom got the "all-clear" from his doctor that his sick father passed away. Tom said that, "It was like he was waiting to see that I'd be ok before he could go. Had I never been home do deal with my own illness, I would have never had the chance to get to know my dad."

I only talked to Tom for 20 or 30 minutes (his truck was 2 mph faster than mine), but I haven't been able to forget his story. Also unforgettable was the guy who was trying to sell a used blow-up doll over the radio, but really, who could forget that.

That's right, I said used.

In closing, I'd like to say that it was worth it. Leaving my home for a month at a time was a blast, but I just couldn't see making a life of it. In fact, I'm still not sure that I've made the right decision. I do, however, have a newfound respect for the profession--Not as much for the skill it takes to do the job (although it's quite a skill), but for the time spent with family that is taken from the drivers. When I'm out on my motorcycle or in my truck and I see a truck driver, I think about the sacrifices he or she is making to get that load from one place to another. That's where the driver makes their money. Not by mile driven, rather minutes and hours spent away from family.

In this, the last post, I'd like to say a big thank you to everyone who's been checking in on me over this last 9 months. It's been very therapeutic for me to write, both in terms of documenting my travels and as a means of keeping busy the other side of my brain. The fact that people even cared enough to read these posts at all, much less comment on them, means the world to me.

10-4, good buddies.

Old, old salt

2008-04-30T14:47:00.000-07:00

I've always wanted to come here

Well, even though I didn't really have the time to see much of it, I was able to stop for a little while at a rest stop along the edge of the Bonneville Salt Flats. According to the sign, I was still 7 miles away from the 10-mile-long course where people come every year to (try to) break land-based speed records.

I wandered out a little bit on the salt, past the worn area of footprints and dog poo, but not so far as to leave the highway by much. As much as I'd like to wander out into the white nothingness, I kind of had the feeling that I was seeing as much as I was going to see from where I was, unless, of course, I wanted to huff it the seven miles out to the black line. The white of the salt, however, was becoming blindingly bright, even through my sunglasses, and I could see a large dust cloud back in the direction of my truck that was moving pretty quickly towards me. Time for a quick picture, and I was out of there.

On my return trip to the truck, I had to literally put my shoulder into the headwind. There was some kind of dust (salt, perhaps?) that was pelting me in the face and arms, and I decided that I picked a good time to wander back to the truck. I imagine that a white storm could be pretty disorientating.

The small print on the sign is a good read, actually, and I suggest clicking on it to open up the big version. Also, so you know, there was no place to drive the truck down onto the salt flats. I'm sure that Swift doesn't exactly want my truck to get salted anyway.

My week in a series of photographs

2008-04-29T21:19:00.000-07:00

I've never slept under a water tower before, but if you think about how many water towers there actually are in this country, it was bound to happen. Oddly, I forget what state I was in at the time, but I'm thinking it was Indiana. Anyway, I had odd dreams that night about losing control of my truck as I came into the truck stop, hitting the base of the tower, knocking it over, and spilling water everywhere. Oh, the humanity.

Also in Indiana, here's a look out my mirror. This is what I see, hundreds of times each day. I happened to be stopped at a construction site, waiting for some guys in orange vests to give us the signal to drive around them. We were there for a while, but I guess the shovels and brooms won't hold themselves up.

As my friend Steve joked one time, "Caution: Trucks on Triangles." While in Wisconsin, I came across a small hill while touring the back roads of the state. This is the steepest I've ever seen. Normally, 7% is a big hill, and I think that the Grapevine in California is sometimes 6% and sometimes 7%. 9% means that for every 100 feet of horizontal travel, you descend or ascend 9 feet.

How can you go to Wisconsin and not stop for some cheese? Well, if you don't like cheese I guess it's easy, but I like cheese, so I stopped. Good ol' Igor the mouse. I'm not quite sure why he was there other than to stop tourists like myself, but I took the picture anyway. Mom and Dad, I've got a wedge of really good cheese I'm bringing home. Break out the crackers.

So I'm waiting at this red light in Indiana, and I see three dogs come out the end of a driveway and start walking alongside the road.

It kind of struck me as three friends going for a walk, and I was compelled to take the picture. The one in front was being kind of protective. He/she kept looking back at the other two to make sure they were right behind, and once stopped the line so the last dog could catch up. Once the last dog was there, they all started walking in single file again, out of the way of traffic. I snapped the picture as I drove by, but kept thinking about what kind of adventures they'd get in over the course of their day. I guess I've seen too many Disney Movies.

A few days ago, I was cruising down Interstate 80 in Nebraska, when I heard someone calling for me over the CB. I answered, and they informed me that there looked to be a tire on the very rear axle of the trailer that was running without air, essentially flopping around with the other wheels. I thanked the driver, and pulled over when I could. I always do my pre-trip inspections, and while I don't use an air pressure guage, I do thump the tires with a mallet. When I ate lunch, a half-hour previous to the flat, all 18 of them were good. That means that I picked up the bolt recently, and hadn't been running with the flat for too long. I always thought that I'd notice a flat, if by no other way than by an odd vibration to the truck. Even as far back on the trailer as that one was, I thought I'd notice something. Guess not.

Since I wasn't into waiting on the side of the Interstate, I drove at 45 mph for a good 30 miles, where there was a good truck stop I pulled into. I waited for about 2 hours for a repair guy to show up, and when he did, he pulled the tire off the rim (leaving the rim on the trailer), patched it from the inside, and slipped it back on.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

2008-04-28T20:38:00.000-07:00

I know that it's been a little while since I've posted anything, but I... I... I can't think of a reason, really, why I haven't. It's true, that I've been in the Midwest, and there's almost nothing noteworthy about what I've been seeing and doing, but I still should be able to bore everyone with some lame anecdote at least.

I do have a few pictures I want to post, and the other day I had a flat and there's a story there, but my Internet connection stinks at the moment (my cell phone says I'm roaming) so I'll have to post all that another time.

To update you on my current situation, I'm in Wyoming on the 80, making my way to Reno, Nevada. From Reno I'll get a load home, at which point I'll... Well, that's a whole new post right there.

That is an 'O', isn't it?

2008-04-21T18:53:00.000-07:00

My first thought was, "What's my dad doing here in North Carolina?"

That's a Big Number

2008-04-21T18:36:00.000-07:00

Granted only the last 40,000 belong to me, but still, today's event is the biggest odometer reading I've ever seen. Apparently, another 200,000 and ol' Swif will be selling this truck at auction. Any takers?

Oh, nothing much--And you?

2008-04-18T19:19:00.000-07:00

Nothing really exciting happened today, but I did take a few pictures. The first two pictures of the day feature Interstate 10 through Louisiana--One of it raised above the swampland, and one of it crossing over the Mississippi into Baton Rouge. I kind of enjoyed today's drive through Louisiana because it was the first time I've driven this part of the 10 since I rode my motorcycle across the country on the same route two years ago. Today's journey recalled a few memories, including a rest stop in Mississippi where I took a break from the Summer's heat.

The last picture is of the ominous weather above the truck stop I'm sitting in now. While the worst of it is out of out of frame, you can almost get a sense of what it feels like where I'm currently sitting. Strong, warm wind, high and low level, fast-moving clouds, and a tornado warning coming in over the weather channel. Add to that the sporadic lightning in the distance and the big truck on fire I'm hearing about over the CB that's just outside the truck stop I'm in, and well... You just might want to check back to the site tomorrow night for some exciting pictures.

Clap-clap-clap-clap, Deep in the Heart of Texas

2008-04-17T18:45:00.000-07:00

I've been really busy over the past few days, staying primarily in Texas and Louisiana. I am fresh on the road now, after a 34-hour restart of my hours, which in reality was longer than that. After I left Dallas, I was Eastbound into Louisiana, and then Southbound from there. From mid-state, I accepted a load that took me to Laredo, Texas.

For those that don't know, LAREDO is a small border town in the Southern part of Texas with high, dusty winds and run-down streets, potholed by all the truck traffic. If you've never been to Laredo, just imagine El Paso, with more wind. If you've never been to El Paso, then just imagine an armpit.

Anyway, I'd been sitting in Laredo for a day, waiting for a load out. My Quallcomm finally beeped with a load assignment, and I let out a very Homer-esque, "Woo Hoo." The load picked up that day and delivered to Fullerton, California. Fullerton, being about 40 miles away from my home in Southern Orange County, would be a perfect chance for me to sneak home, do some laundry, and finally deposit my income tax refund checks I've been waiting on--Not to mention, I'd probably get a free dinner out of the deal at some point.

I rushed over to the Swift Yard in Laredo, dropped my empty, hooked to the loaded trailer, and brought it over to the scale. The maximum amount of weight you're allowed to put on your axles vary; You're allowed to have up to 12,000 pounds on your front, or steer axle, and 34,000 on both your drives and tandems.

I pulled onto the scale;
Steers, 11,400. Good.
Drives, 28,900. Ok so far.
Tandems, 34,500. Crap.

My trailer axles were overweight by 500 pounds, and since I was bringing the load into California, I couldn't move the tandems back any further than the 40 foot mark (which they were already at). What this means is that the people who loaded the trailer loaded the back heavier than the front, and that they'd need to fix it before it could go anywhere. For me, it meant that I wouldn't be taking the load.

While I was really looking forward to coming home, if only for an overnight visit, the next load I got was a pretty good one too. It's a nice and long one, about 1400 miles, and it will put me into Charlotte, North Carolina. I like driving in the South, especially around this time of year and earlier. It's not really hot here yet, and if I'm in the South, it means that I'm not in Wyoming or Colorado--Which I'm totally fine with.

First up on tomorrow's agenda: A shower.

Pictures from a Grassy Knoll

2008-04-14T16:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning I was talking to my friend Jimbo on the phone, and I told him that I was in Dallas. After talking about my travels for a little while, he asked me if I'd been over to see the grassy knoll at Dealey Plaza yet. The thought suddenly clicked in my mind--"Oh, that's right." I had completely overlooked a historical landmark that was just 17 miles away from my location.

I quickly got out the computer, Google mapped a route, wrote down the directions (no, I don't have a printer in the truck), and set out bobtail to check out the scene.

I found parking a few blocks away from Dealey Plaza, and according to the sign, was able to park the giant vehicle for three dollars. I thought that the guard was going to charge me more than the normal car rate when he saw me scrape both mirrors as I slipped through the narrow entrance gate and up to his booth, but luckily, he didn't. I then proceeded to take up four car-sized spots to celebrate.

I walked up the road and under the bridge where Elm, Main, and Commerce Streets merged together. Emerging on the other side of the bridge, I took in for the first time what I'd only previously seen through images, both moving and still.

I walked around on my own for a while, and eventually wandered back to the knoll area. Mike Brownlow, an older man with a book full of loose pictures, was speaking to a small group of people. I introduced myself and asked about "the tour." He was more than happy to tell me what he knew about the historic day, November 22, 1963.

Mike had been an eyewitness to the event, and even though he was a child at the time (I don't remember exactly how old, but I got the feeling that he was around 10 or 12) remembered vividly the scene and order of events. Together, we walked around to the backside of the fence behind the knoll, and he showed me where it was likely that two gunmen stood.

He then showed me a picture of him as a young man, standing along the parade route as the President's motorcade passed by. As he ran through the events of what most likely happened, he supported his talking points with photographs and news articles he kept loosely in the book he was holding.

I thanked Mike for his time, and wandered over to the book depository building, where on the 6th floor, they have a museum about the life and death of President John F. Kennedy. I didn't spend much time in there as I could have, but I learned a lot from what I saw.

I stood in a group of people, watching a kiosk-hosted short film made from event footage, as well as from the original news coverage of the events surrounding that day. It was a very emotional experience to stand in that group of people--some of whom you could tell were recalling their own memories of that time. It was a somber feeling to watch the news reporter, Walter Cronkite, announce the death of the President, and then pause to put on and take off his thick, black-rimmed glasses as what seemed to be a cover for the emotion rising up inside of him.

I stood for a few minutes by the window next to where Lee Harvey Oswald most likely sat, looking down on the scene before heading back down the elevator and back out on the street. I took a few more pictures from street level before walking back to the truck. As I drove back out the gate (pulling in my mirror this time) I thought about how thankful I was that Jimbo reminded me of where I was. Maybe I'll start a list of places I want to see so I don't overlook anything in the future.

Here are all of the pictures I took yesterday

On a 34 Hour Reset

2008-04-12T18:53:00.000-07:00

Over the past few days I've been working fairly hard. You wouldn't think so by looking at my log, but there have been a few 5 to 6 hundred mile days, and most of those being in the New England area. I'm not sure why, but driving in the Northeast seems significantly more stressful and intensive to me. Even though I've spent a fair amount of time on break, it's a restless feeling for me.

I imagine it's because it's an area that I'm not familiar with, but I have to think that it's also partly due to how cramped I feel when I'm there. Because everything you build must be first carved out of the trees and plant life, they tend to build things just big enough for their purpose. That's my educated guess anyway, but like I said, I don't know the area very well. What I DO know is that New Jersey sucks.

Regardless, I feel somewhat claustrophobic when I'm there, and you definitely have to be on your game as far as backing and close-quarter maneuvering goes. It's a feeling I'd never get in Arizona, where there's so much room to build a truck stop that it's sometimes bigger than necessary.

Anyway, getting to the point of the post...

Now that I'm in peaceful Dallas, Texas, I'm taking a 34 hour reset of my hours (see below post, second to last paragraph). I couldn't have picked a better day to take a reset, either. The weather here is beautiful, and given the fact that I've not seen the sun in like a week, I was ready for some time outside the truck.

Our terminal, in Lancaster, is just South of Dallas, and kind of out in 'the sticks.' I asked one of the local drivers if we were close to any civilization (food), and he said that we were about 2.5 to 3 miles away from a Cracker Barrel, but that was about it. I was hungry enough, and the day was nice enough to motivate me to get on my good shoes, shorts, t-shirt, and go for a walk.

I felt pretty wiped out by the time I got back to the truck, but it was worth the grilled chicken and strawberry shortcake. Tomorrow I go back to work--to where? I don't know yet, and that's kind of exciting.

Days remaining 'till home time = 19. Not that I'm counting.

The Log Book

2008-04-12T17:06:00.000-07:00

I've had multiple people ask me how many hours I'm allowed to drive each day and how you keep track of your time, so I thought that it'd make sense for me to post about it one time and then tell people to, "Just go read the weblog." In actuality, I'd probably be nicer than that and just tell them. But, because many learn by reading (and also because one day I'll want to look back and remember this) I'll break it down anyway.

* In one day (24 hours), you are allowed to drive no more than 11 hours.
* The 11 hours of driving you do in a day must be within a 14 hour window.
* After your time to drive has expired, you must take a 10 hour break.
* The total hours you worked in a 7 day period may not exceed 70.

There are four lines on which you can spend your time: Off duty, in the sleeper, driving, and on duty but not driving. Whenever you're about to start one of the four activities, you draw a vertical line to the horizontal line you want to be on. When you're ready to move to a different line (change your duty status) you finish the horizontal line across and either go up or down with another vertical. Also, at this point, you make a 'flag' below the change and mark it with the city and state you're in, and a short description of what you're doing.

Off duty is what I put whenever I'm on break or waiting for a shipper/receiver to load or unload the truck. It's also the line I go onto when I'm on my home time. By signing the first page in the log book (a release of duty form), you're allowed to leave your truck unattended during this time also. Obviously, the sleeper berth line is reserved for when you're sleeping (assuming you're in the back of the truck). I rarely log to this during the day, rather just at the beginning and end of each day.

The driving line is reserved for the time you actually spend operating the vehicle from the front seat of the truck, and the on duty but not driving covers the rest of the time you're spent working in the service of your truck or company. Things covered by the on duty, not driving line include fueling and working on the truck, as well as your daily pre-trip and post-trip inspections. This time doesn't count against your 11 hours of drive time each day, but they do count against the 70 hours of work you're allowed to do in a week.

There's a handy little helper on the top right of each log page called the recap. It's there to help you keep track of how many hours you've worked in a week, and how many you've got left. At the end of each day, you add the hours you've worked (driving + on duty, not driving) to the bottom of the list. Every day you move all the numbers up one, and if the list is full, you get to kick off the number at the top of the list, so that the column is truly a record of the last seven days.

Lastly, if you take a 34 hour break, you may reset this recap to read all zeros. Granted, you're not getting paid for hours you're just sitting, but it sets you up so you can work hard later. There's been times that I've worked so hard during a week that I'd built up between 65 and 70 hours. The following day I was only allowed to work like 3 or 4 hours before I had to shut down. It's kind of frustrating, especially if you don't feel tired or overworked, but in some cases (like right now, for instance) it's nice to be able to take it easy for a day and a half. It gives you a chance to break out the computer and explain the whole boring process over the Internet for everyone to pretend to read and actually just skim.

That's about it. It may look kind of complicated, and at first it was, but it's one of those things that you get used to. For me, I kind of miss all the paperwork involved in teaching, and besides the bill of ladings and receipts, this is my only outlet in that realm. At the end of each day I spend 20 minutes finishing the current day's log and preparing the log for the next. It's a skill better learned from a good teacher rather than some good-looking guy's weblog, but before long, it comes to you as if it were a skill you've had since birth. Kind of like double-clutching a 9-speed transmission in LA traffic.

How it's Supposed to Work

2008-04-12T16:44:00.000-07:00

This is, in case you didn't know, how the highway system works. I've seen a lot of signs outside of California that remind drivers of this rule, but I think this one is the most clear. Even though I'm rarely the passing lane vehicle, I'm always a bit concerned for people that try and pass me on the right. For any non-truck drivers out there, It's a hard side of the truck to see. It's especially dangerous in the rain because the large, wide, and multiple tires of the truck throw up more than a lot of water. This large cloud of water created by the truck reduces visibility even more than normal. If you're a car without headlights on in the rain trying to pass a truck on the right side... Well, don't be surprised if you get merged into a guardrail or trailer.

Friends of the 'Wheeler

2008-04-09T19:12:00.000-07:00

I wanted to take a minute to point out a few of the weblogs that I've been reading out here on the road. It's really interesting to me how I'm not alone in many of my adventures, and how similar my experiences relate to those of other drivers. A common thread among all the weblogs I've seen is that the authors tend to write as a means of having a creative outlet, as well as to document their lives and experiences. Of the many that I've found online, I've picked the following four websites to highlight, as they are the ones that I keep up on myself.

Truck Driver Blog

The Truck Driver Blog, run by Aaron the Truck Driver, was the first one I started reading. Aaron is not only the author, but also the creator of the video clips you'll see on his site. He describes himself as an "amateur film maker," but they look pretty professional to me.

Gi-gi Roxx

Similar to this weblog, Gigi provides first-person experience to her writings about her adventures on the road. Beginning in May of last year, she outlines everything from her first days of training to present-day happenings, sparing no details. I wish I'd have seen this weblog when I was going through the Swift program, as her training experiences are very similar to my own.

The Gypsy Trucker

It took me about two seconds to decide to bookmark this weblog. Gypsy is a skilled writer, sometimes poetic, and you can tell that she has a passion for it. One thing that drew me to this site right away is how similar her situation is to my own. Gypsy is a woman in her 20s who went to college and pursued a career in journalism, worked internships to get her foot in the door, made it into the newspaper business, but is now taking a year or so off to drive long haul across the country. Change woman to man, 20s to 30s, journalism to teaching, internships to substitute teaching, and newspaper to education, and you have my story exactly.

Lyndon's Trucking Life

Besides being often humorous, Lyndon's weblog is a unique story of a now-Canadian truck driver. A definite must-read, Lyndon's Trucking Life documents the daily happenings, current trends, and personal observations in the trucking community. What's unique about Lyndon's story, is that he's a British immigrant, recruited to a Canadian company, exploring North America. One of my favorite aspects of this site is how Lyndon compares trucking here to trucking in his homeland.

Small Town, USA

2008-04-06T21:24:00.000-07:00

My delivery the other day was in Newell, West Virginia. Newell is in the VERY Northern end of the Northward protrusion of the state, cornered in by Pennsylvania and Ohio. Newell is almost literally "a stone's throw" from either state.

Upon entering the town, there's an immediate feeling of having traveled back in time. As I often do, I called the company I was headed to for accurate directions. The man on the other end of the phone said, "Make a right at the light."

Wanting to be perfectly clear, I asked, "Which light do I turn at?" to which he replied, "The only one."

I made my way through the bustling little metropolis, made a few tight turns, and pulled into the shipper's dock. I wandered into the building to find the shipping and receiving office, suddenly amazed at the structure I was in. Wooden floors, antique furniture and wall-hangings, and original glass windows between the offices.

The windows showed very prominent signs of age, visibly characterized by the gravity-induced distortion. The perfect setting, really, for a company that produces fine china and dinnerware.

It wasn't until I got back out to the truck that I got out my camera, and I look back and wish that I'd taken more pictures. The ones I did take were somewhat quick snapshots rather than well-composed artwork, but hopefully they can give you the idea of the style of the area I was in.

I was so impressed by my surroundings and how they contrasted those of my Southern California upbringing, that I felt compelled to wander around town a bit while they loaded my truck. Needless to say, deliveries like these are always a treat for me.

Drastic Times, Drastic Measures

2008-04-05T22:46:00.000-07:00

When I pulled into New Haven, Connecticut late this evening, I was really hungry. My stomach, still on California time, had convinced me to wait until after we delivered our load to eat, and as always, I did what it told me to do. Unfortunately, my stomach didn't have the foresight to think that any quality eating establishment would be closed at such a late hour. Foolish internal organ! Now what?

Drastic times call for drastic measures... namely, Taco Bell.

Teenager: "You're our first big rig to come through the drive-through."
Me: "You're the first drive-through I've done in a big rig."
Teenager: "Here's your order."
Me: "Say hello to the Internet!"

Clouds, Lightning, Rain, Hail, Floods, and a Rainbow... Oh, and a Tornado

2008-04-02T18:40:00.000-07:00

In terms of weather, this has been a very interesting week. I seemed to have outrun the Southwest's boring blue sky weather right around Oklahoma City, as I entered into this:

Seeing this cloud, I tuned the truck's stereo to the local weather. I had no problem finding a radio station that talked about the weather, because they were ALL playing the same thing--The Emergency Broadcast Alert. Apparently, this part of the country is prone to what experts call "tornadoes." In fact, the skies above the outskirts of OK City were very characteristic of those that create tornadoes.

The radio declared the counties just South of my Eastbound path of travel as under "tornado warning," and it was moving to the Northeast at about 15 to 20 miles per hour. I could have stopped where I was, let the storms progress a bit, and then continue in the morning, but being that I was in the middle of nowhere with no solid shelter, I decided to "put the hammer down" and scoot through to my terminal in OK City. Having been there a handful of times, I knew that the Swift terminal had a big strong building to take shelter in, should the worst happen.

I made it to the terminal with no incident, parked the rig, and started my evening paperwork. The air was weird at that moment--Full of moisture, blowing in several directions at once, and... something else--Maybe just a weird feeling.

Not too long after that, there was a knock at my truck's door. The staff at the Swift facility were making their way to all the trucks in the lot, warning us about the newly-updated tornado alerts, of which the county I was in was included. The radio instructed people in the county I was in to, "Take shelter immediately."

I grabbed all my irreplaceable items (computer, phone, wallet, etc.) and ran through a sudden hailstorm (see below) to the driver's lounge at the terminal, where there were 30 other drivers, a blaring TV, and two yipping dogs. Oddly, I couldn't smell the wet dogs over the scent of wet trucker.

I hate being in a confined space with other people (there are a few exceptions to this rule) so I went outside in the lightning to call Derek. A minute or two into our conversation I was scared by the nearby lightning enough to think that I shouldn't be in a parking lot on a phone in a lightning storm.

About an hour and a half went by, and a lot of the drivers decided that it'd probably be safe to walk back out to the trucks and go back to bed. When I got back to the truck, I laid in bed (fully clothed, shoes on) listening to the weather radio station. About 20 minutes later, it played the Emergency Broadcast Alert signal again (very much like the sound of when you accidentally call a fax machine), and again, I grabbed my "go bag" and hoofed it into the terminal. Being that I've never been near a tornado, I took the radio's advice to "take shelter immediately" quite literally.

Once in the driver's lounge, we watched TV for another hour before we decided that it was finally safe to go out to the trucks and sleep. Watching the news reports, we learned that a small twister touched down about 12 miles away from where we were. Listening to the radio the next morning, I heard a report that it caught a farmer by surprise; It came down on him, picked him up, and threw him 40 feet through the air into a grass field.

On the way back to my truck, I took these two pictures. They're the same picture (close, anyway), but one was taken during a lightning strike. You could swear it was daylight out:

I woke up that next morning still in my clothes, on top of the bed, with my go-bag next to me.

The following days were nearly as impressive, but not nearly as exciting. Mostly, I was impressed with the clouds. Back in Southern California, big, full, and well-defined clouds like I've been seeing are a rare event. The following two pictures were taken in Kentucky, one of my favorite states to drive through:

The day after the tornado scare I saw several rainbows, but only this one really came out in picture form:

Of course the local news, as well as the weather channels, have been reporting how over-saturated the area has become with water (in contrast to California's constant drought scares) from severe rains and storms. That's no joke, because I've been seeing the effects of the flooding on a daily basis. At first glance, the pictures below look like pictures of a lake. They're not. It's farmland.

This last picture is of a nuclear power plant in Northwestern Kentucky. I would say that even though many power plants have giant cooling towers like these, it's highly possible that this power plant was one that the creators of "The Simpsons" had in mind when they designed the power plant from the show. The series itself admits to being Kentucky-based, although this structure is nowhere near Springfield.

Heads up!

2008-03-29T23:24:00.000-07:00

I wanted to post this picture of a military C5A-Galaxy cargo jet that was doing aerobatics over Highway 40 in Texas last week. I took this picture as I was driving West towards the jet, flying East towards me. Unfortunately, my camera wasn't fast enough to get ready to take another picture, otherwise I'd have taken another one, closer to it.

My first thought when I saw the scene below was wether or not I should get out of it's way. It was swinging wildly from left to right and I wondered where I could ditch the truck to avoid the head-on collision that I was about to lose as it landed.

I eventually caught it in my rearview, steadily climbing away from the ground. Thinking back, I bet it was probably some punk kid having fun at the military's expense. Yeah, that's got to be it.

Country Music Lyric of the Week

2008-03-29T22:46:00.000-07:00

I felt that I needed to explain that this feature was meant to show how ridiculous the lyrics to country music can be. I hear TONS of it on a daily basis (perhaps I should invest in a satellite radio), so I'd like to point out the ones that seem notable to me. Just like in any other music, there's quality to be found in the genre, but I've chosen to highlight the low points, what I find humorous. It's quite often that I'll be driving along, hear a song, and think, "Really? Someone took the time to write that down?"

Perhaps pointing out stupidity is the first step to putting an end to it. If this is the case, then maybe I'm really pioneer in this realm. I'll try not to focus too much on Toby Keith.

Hosed!

2008-03-29T21:23:00.000-07:00

Well, I guess it was just a matter of time. I tried to avoid it for as long as I could, but alas, I finally had to give Swift a chance to mess with the speed limiter on my truck. A week or two ago, the Quallcomm onboard computer beeped, with a message from Jerry Moyes, the president of the company.

The message stated that since fuel had reached record-setting costs (see below post), Swift would be lowering the company speed limit from 64 to 62 miles per hour. Little did Swift know, my truck has been running at 65--probably because it was a team-driven truck before I got it.

The hard part about driving a truck that slow isn't in the fact that you're covering three less miles every hour, rather when it comes time to pass or be passed by other trucks. If I'm doing 65 miles per hour, and I eventually come up on a truck in the right lane doing a governed 64.9, I have to wait for a pretty big break in traffic before I attempt a pass. I've never been able to make a pass like that and not have traffic build up behind me.

Before you know it, there's some jack-@ss in that line in a big, triple-digit Peterbilt, complaining over the CB about that "Dang Swift Driver set on holding me up!" Not that I care about his schedule, but I'd rather make the pass as quick as possible, get back over, and then slow back down. In the car, I used to be one of those drivers stuck behind a big truck in the hammer lane, too. I'd always wonder why that trucker wouldn't just pass the other truck, and let us all by. Little did I know, he had no choice.

The trick to keeping my speed up was to avoid bringing the truck into the shop, denying them the chance to hook it up to the computer. Last week, however, before I took my home time, I weighed the consequences of losing three mph against the problems I'd been "collecting" on the truck; My front bumper is sagging (or falling off), two of the four batteries are dying, the tractor's ABS light came on, the truck won't start on the first four turns of the key, and the passenger seat has been leaking air from the truck's air system.

So I crossed my fingers and put ol' 10041 into the shop in hopes that they'd fix the array of problems and somehow forget the whole reset-the-speed-limiter part.

Oh well, at least my Quallcomm still works when the truck is moving.

Fill 'er up!

2008-03-21T22:07:00.000-07:00

And you thought you had it bad...

Yesterday I ran my truck longer than I ever have before on a tank of fuel. I didn't even notice until the last minute, because I was scheduled to fuel in Santa Rosa, New Mexico. Being that I generally always fuel before I need to, I'm not in the habit of checking the fuel gauge. But driving West out of Amarillo, Texas, into a massive headwind, I glanced down to see the needle touching the big E.

Luckily, there was a truck stop not 10 miles ahead of me. I pulled in, called HQ for approval for fuel, and then fueled the truck. Each of the two tanks holds 140 gallons, 280 together. I put in over 200 gallons, probably about 230. Want to know what it cost Swift to fill my tanks?

$823.00

Now imagine paying that 2 or 3 times a week for just one truck. Now imagine that you have thousands of trucks. Ouch.

If my brother drove a truck

2008-03-18T21:03:00.000-07:00

I think that if my surf-happy, ocean-bound, sea captain-slash-fisherman of a brother, Jeff, became a truck driver, he'd eventually go crazy from being land-locked for a month at a time, and somehow end up in the situation below. It's a Captain's license Jeff, not a CDL! Just because you can operate a 100 ton vehicle, doesn't mean you have to take it to San Clemente Island!

I saw this on another trucking weblog, but couldn't resist posting it anyway. Besides, I've never posted a video, and I'm curious to see how it'll work.

What the heck was this guy thinking?

Heavy Metal

2008-03-18T17:26:00.000-07:00

Normally, when I pick up a load I arrive at the company that's actually doing the shipping. Sometimes they load it while I wait, and other times I just pick up a preloaded trailer, but nonetheless, I know what I'm hauling in part by what company I'm at when I got the load. I picked up a load the other day from one of our terminals, and because of this, I didn't really know what my load was. Really, I could've found out from the bill of lading, but sifting through all that technical writing is usually a chore I don't have to (want to) endure. All I knew was that the load weighed 43,000 pounds, bringing my truck's total weight to just 3,000 pounds less than it's maximum weight of 80,000.

I really like light loads--Takeoffs are easier, you can skip gears, stopping is no big deal, and you don't really have to put much thought into those long, steep down grades. Furthermore, heavy loads can restrict you from making really sharp u-turns and certain areas with weight limits. While heavy loads aren't really that big a deal, they're not my absolute favorite, and I always like to see what comes out of the trailer that makes it that heavy.

I backed to a dock in Arkansas, and then went up the ramp to the shipping/receiving office. As I walked past the large metal coils (that's solid copper, by the way--not hollow pipe) I peered into the facility. There was a lot of motion and noise happening, so much that it was almost disconcernable as to what motion was making what sound. My senses of sight and hearing were working overtime, as was my sense of smell. Copper has a very distinct smell--Almost a taste--and it made me think of a handful of pennies.

After taking care of the paperwork, I watched as the forklift drivers took out the nails and boards that held down the load inside the trailer. As it turns out, I was hauling large copper plates. I was kind of surprised to see how little cargo I had. Normally, with a load this heavy you'd open the doors to find product stacked high and wide, practically falling out of the trailer. The copper plates, however, were stacked about 18 inches high, and in a single-file line down the center of the floor of the trailer. The line didn't even come back to where the trailer wheels were, underneath the trailer. Below is a picture of the load, unloaded from my care, stacked against a wall.

Before I left the dock I asked the forklift driver what they did with the metal I brought them. He said that they melt it down first into copper rod (as in the first picture), and then into copper pipes, mostly for plumbing applications.

It's nice to get to see some of the behind-the-scenes, or inner-workings of how our society functions sometimes. It's deliveries like this that make me thankful that I took this job in the first place. I know that when I return to the education field, I hope to be a more worldly person, thanks to the things I've seen, experiences I've had, and people I've met on the road.

¿Qué Hora Es?

2008-03-12T20:29:00.000-07:00

Adjusting to the time change is easy when you're constantly crossing into and out of time zones regularly. It's easy in the sense that, "Hey, I don't really know the time where I'm at anyway, so what does it matter if the time shifts an hour?" But, if you really want to know what time it is, and you're me, things could get confusing.

Let me first say that when the time switch happened, I was in Arizona. AZ is in odd state in that they don't switch their clocks forward or back like everyone else (except Indiana) does. Half of the year they're on time with California, and half of the year they're on time with New Mexico. What half of the year they do what was unknown to me.

Add to all that the fact that I had to take 10 hours off in order to be legal to drive again in the morning. So, did I lose two hours or one? Do I have to wake up at five or six? How do I set the alarm clock on my cell phone, being that it shows local time?

Just to be on the safe side, I decided to sleep in. It was the smartest thing to do, really.

Home? Sweet! Home.

2008-03-07T18:08:00.000-08:00

As usual, home time came and went way too quickly. I really pushed it to get home on time, too. The last work day prior to going home saw me working late into the night, finally getting home after midnight. I drove for a record amount of time that day, starting in Tucson, AZ, stopping in Calexico, CA, and eventually ending up back home in Mira Loma. The worst part of it was that I kept putting off eating (starting with breakfast) because of the deadlines I had to keep in order to start my home time the following day. Finally, around dinnertime, I picked up my friend Jim in Capistrano Beach on my way North, and he made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Jim and I drove to make my final delivery in Rialto before leaving the truck in the Mira Loma yard, but getting to the yard we were turned away because we were 3 days early on the delivery. Why would my company give me three days to deliver a load 250 miles away? That's like a 4 hour drive. Ridiculous. Anyway, I had to bring both the truck and the trailer back to the Mira Loma yard, finding that there was essentially not enough parking for either. The yard was packed tighter than I'd ever seen--Even more crowded than it was over the Christmas Break. Jim and I finally found a spot over on the far side of the yard that wasn't yet taken because the spot was seemingly too tight to fit a trailer into. Jim helped me out by spotting my back right corner, and together we finally got it.

The following day I woke up early, and went out to breakfast with my dad and brother. After my appetite was out of the way (Thanks dad!), the first order of business was to get the motorcycle out of storage. As I opened the roll-up door to the unit, I relaxed to see that the bike was still there. Every time I get the bike out of storage, it feels as if I haven't seen it in an extraordinarily long time. As I strip off the cover, I can't help but think back to an old Rush song, "Red Barchetta." The song talks about how the author would get away to his uncle's farm in the country, "strip away the old debris that hides the shining car," and take it out for a drive. Clearing off the cover to the bike, and exposing the chrome and metallic paint always makes me hum that song in my throat.

I slowly made my way North to LA on the bike for a ride with a couple of friends. I meandered through the streets of Irvine and Orange on my way, making sure not to take any of the ride for granted. I showed up in LA to find Chris, and his girlfriend Jen, ready for a ride. Chris and I met through a web-based forum about the Honda Shadow Aero 750, the bike we both have, and I met Jen shortly after that. Jen wasn't motor-cyclical when she met Chris, but I imagine that riding on the back of Chris' bike eventually became more than she could stand. Jen rides a beautiful red Honda 750, and has become more skilled in the months that she's been riding than many of my friends have become in years.

Chris, Jen, and I motored up the freeway to Angeles Crest Highway in the mountains North of LA, where all the twists and turns made for an exhilarating, albeit cold, day. Lunch at Newcomb's Ranch was awesome, and what made it even better was the fact that Jen paid for it! Thanks Jen!

Breakfast paid for by my dad, lunch taken care of by Jen... If only there was some way to get dinner for free. Oh, wait--What's this? A voicemail from my brother inviting me over for a spaghetti dinner? It was the perfect finale to my all-day-meal trifecta. Oh, and it was good, too! Thanks, Jeff!

Running a million miles an hour, be it work or fun, eventually takes its toll. On day 2 of my home time, I woke up late, putting off getting out of bed in hopes that my headache would go away. I eventually did, and rode over to Wahoo's to meet Derek and Brent for lunch. I made it home from lunch just in time to spend the rest of the day losing it. Days 3 and 4 weren't as bad, but I took them really easy, being careful to not over-exert myself so I wouldn't be sick when I returned to work. I was able to go out to dinner with JP, which was a nice way to end my home time. I would also like to point out that I finally paid for my own meal!

A Petrified Wood and Ostrich Break

2008-02-28T10:44:00.000-08:00

It's been a long couple of weeks hanging out on Interstate 40, but I really can't complain. Although the boredom and repetition of the highway is almost unbearable, at least it's not Wyoming or Montana or Colorado. As predicted, I'm getting sick of the snow and harsh weather that goes along with those states, and the ease of driving through the Southwest essentially overcomes my lack of enthusiasm for the scenery.

About a week ago I traveled towards home along the 40 from Albuquerque, New Mexico. Once at my home terminal, I put my truck into the shop to fix some minor imperfections, giving me a day and a half to go home, do my laundry, and eat at the Crab Cooker with some of my friends. Wouldn't you know, that the very first load out was to just Northeast of Oklahoma City--Another long drive out the 40. My current load? It picked up in OK City and delivers tomorrow in Las Vegas--More time on the 40.

Every time I drive the 40 through Arizona, I notice this little shack of a store that advertises along the Interstate. They claim to have a vast array of petrified wood, gold nuggets, and meteorites. It's kind of hard to miss, what with the giant automatronic dinosaur they have staring at drivers as they whizz by. Of course I was curious to see what it was all about, and after 4 hours of straight driving, I was certainly due for a break.

I'm really glad I stopped, so much so that I spent an entire hour there. I walked into the shop and a friendly man named Leonard immediately greeted me with a pamphlet about petrified wood, a postcard, and a small, free sample of the substance. I'd never seen petrified wood before, so I was a little impressed with how much it resembled real wood.

Walking around, Leonard explained everything that I took interest in. He recited to me the paragraph from the pamphlet about how petrified wood is formed, and was eager to show me all the cool things they had lying around. Embedded in a rock was half of a lower jaw and teeth from some ancient dinosaur. Small packets of real gold, a big box of pyrite (fool's gold), Ostrich eggs, and many other fossils from various other animals and trilobites.

As another customer walked in, I escaped out the back door to check out the bigger rocks they kept outside. As I walked out the door I could hear Leonard start in on the paragraph again...

"Around 225 million years ago, during the Triassic Era, the wood was covered up by either ash, volcanic mudflows, sediments in lakes or materials washed up by violent floods. This prevented oxygen freom reaching the wood and prevented decay. Silica dissolved in ground water got into the individual cells and chemically affected them taking on a variety of forms; Agate, Jasper, Chalcedony, or Opal. The beautiful colors are caused by other minerals that are mixed with the silica. Iron Oxide stains the wood orange, rust, red, or yellow. Manganese Oxide produces blues, blacks, or purples."

Outside, I was really impressed my some of the rocks on display. More specifically, I was really impressed with the vivid colors and translucence they displayed.

As I left, I couldn't resist buying a piece of petrified wood, albeit a small one. I've never paid $10 for a rock before, but there's got to be a first time for everything, right?

Adjacent to the "wood shop," is a small ostrich farm. Even though I don't like ostrich (they really creep me out), my unwillingness to climb back into the truck helped me to venture over to see the giant, creepy birds. I wanted to get some good pictures of them, but the following sign kept me from reaching over the fence and sticking my camera (arm) into their personal space:

I watched the grotesque creatures for a few minutes, while they ate seed and drank water. It was kind of weird how they'd dip their heads down to the food/water and then raise their heads back up into the air. At first I just thought they were freaking out or something, but I eventually figured out that they'd raise their heads to let gravity help them get the food/water down their long necks. It must be tough to be a big, stinky bird. Did I mention that I don't like ostrich?

Picturesque

2008-02-16T19:26:00.001-08:00

The secret's out--It's been a long time since my last post. To be honest, a real long time. This is especially odd because I've so much to post about, too. A lot has happened since I went back out on the road (after my most recent home time) that I could've written about, but honestly, I'm really busy. The company has got me working long days, and at the end of them, getting out the computer isn't at the top of my list of things to do to help me recuperate for tomorrow.

Lately, driving has become increasingly frustrating. Winter has made it's presence clear and drivers across the country are taking notice. Roads are often closed, making travel extremely frustrating. Sometimes, if one road is closed and you plan to go around it, you show up only to find that route closed too.

Beyond weather conditions comes geography. I've had the fortune (?) of spending quite a while in Wyoming and Colorado over the past week or two. I took a detour in Colorado yesterday that used 3 hours of my drive time. On a 4-lane highway this would have only taken 45 minutes, however, this was a mountain pass. Narrow roads, and a peak of 10,000 feet in elevation. Had I not seen other trucks on the road with me, I'd have figured that this was one of those roads that trucks just shouldn't be on. At times, I'd not see a truck for up to a half-hour, and I'd get scared that I missed, or made a wrong turn.

In fact, I did make one wrong turn. I turned South instead of North on a highway and immediately recognized it. Being that everywhere was covered in snow (the road surface itself was actually dry), I couldn't tell if the turnouts along the side of the road were in fact, turnouts, or soft dirt that my truck would've sank into. Therefore, with nowhere to turn around, I had to follow through on my mistake, 23 miles into the next town before I could turn around.

You know how the "job" of being a professional baseball player, rock star, or sailing instructor always looks glamourous, but to the actual player, star, or instructor a lot of the fun has been stripped away because it's their job? This job is like that too. I'm driving through places that on any other day (or month, I guess) I'd give my left arm to ride my motorcycle through, but I can't really enjoy it fully, because I'm at work. Keeping your speed in check, occasionally glancing down at the gauges and the air brakes, keeping a wide vehicle in the confines of a lane and keeping track of other drivers all suck the fun out of an otherwise perfect time. My best hope is to remember each road I take, so one day I can share (and finally enjoy) it with my motor-cyclical brethren.

My "final straw" in terms of frustration came today. My company wanted me to take yet another load that would keep me in the confines of the state of Wyoming. I've been waiting for the longest time to get a load that would take me South, or even East, and to get another load that would keep me trapped in an area of the country experiencing snow storms, road closures, and mountain passes was unacceptable. I called in to my company and spoke to three different driver managers who all tried to convince me that I should just take the load, go slow and safe, and stop if I needed to.

Going slow wasn't MY problem. Going AT ALL in the places they wanted me to go was my problem. I know that being as low on the totem pole as I am certainly doesn't invoke special privileges or anything, but as I told them, "I haven't been at this long enough to be driving the roads you're sending me on." On Monday I'm going to sort out with my personal driver manager, Jenn, exactly where I want to be sent to. It's not an issue of preference, rather an issue of safety.

With great work, however, come great rewards. A positive note, perhaps, comes in the form of the beautiful scenery I observe on a daily basis. The kind of scenery that you don't often get to see living in Souther California. Every once in a while I allow myself to get out of the truck on an unscheduled stop and snap a few shots, and here are a few examples.

Heading North on California's Interstate 5, Mt. Shasta (I'm pretty sure):

Some Trees at an Oregon Rest Stop:

Driving out of the fog:

The Beautiful Columbia River at sunrise, with Washington on the left, and Oregon on the right:

This isn't a good picture, but I thought this structure looked like a cartoon character with evil-looking eyebrows:

More Washington Scenery:

On the road again... Sort of

2008-02-06T19:11:00.000-08:00

Like I said in the post below this one, today is my first day back at work after four much-needed days off. I went to sleep early last night, knowing that I'd have to be in Mira Loma by 6 am. Despite waking up early, getting to the home terminal early in the day isn't that bad. There's still not much traffic at 4 am, be it on the freeway or in the terminal, and it's easier to drive when the sun's not yet blasting you in the face.

Problems arose, however, when I arrived in Mira Loma this morning. Walking into the terminal with my arms full of luggage, food, and other necessities, I made the 5 minute hike across the yard to where I left my truck. But, there was no truck. I mean, there was a truck there--there were many trucks there--but none of them were mine.

My first thought was that someone really wanted the empty trailer I was connected to. When I left my truck last week, I put my padlock and a seal on the trailer doors (to make it look like it was under a load), and left it attached to my truck, backed up against a short cement wall. I learned, however, from talking to other drivers, that this is usually enough to deter anyone from interest in the trailer.

My second thought was that Swift, in their grand wisdom, reassigned me to a new truck, and someone else to mine. I've been told that if you take too much home time they can do that, but I was also told that you have to take 5 or 6 days off in a row for that to happen, and I only took 4. This especially infuriated me because a lot of my stuff, like laundry, paperwork, and a guitar, were still in the truck.

I decided to carry all my stuff to the yard office, and on my way, I found my truck, sitting trailer-less with the other bobtails. I immediately unlocked and opened the door, climbed inside, and took stock of what was there and what might be missing. My padlock was sitting on the driver's seat, still intact and in the locked position. After a couple of minutes I calmed down, and realized that it was probably someone from the shop that came to move my truck. I guessed that I hoarded an empty trailer for too long and I was lucky that they didn't cut the $80 thing off.

Later this morning I called my driver manager, Jenn, and she filled me in on what happened. Apparently, while I was gone, Swift had sold the trailer to an outside party, and they needed to take it. That makes me feel a little better about the security of my truck when I'm not around, but I still would've liked a phone call or a note on the windshield--or something.

Anyway, I spent the whole day today driving around to different warehouses and distribution centers in the area that Swift has accounts with. "Do you have any Swift empties?" I'd say. "Sorry," or "Nope," they'd say. Finally, Jenn pulled some strings and found one for me. She called me and let me know where to rendezvous with it, and like that I was back in the game. When I finally got a pre-plan (you have to have an empty trailer to get a pre-plan), I noticed that the pickup wasn't until tomorrow morning.

All I can do now is sit and wait until then. What a perfect opportunity to get out the computer and update the weblog.

Home is where my truck isn't

2008-02-06T17:48:00.000-08:00

Today is my first day back at work after four days of well-deserved, recuperative home time. A lot happened over the last half-week, and as I was taking a break from the truck and the road, I also took a break from the weblog. If you're a compulsive "check Jason's weblog" kind of guy/gal, I apologize for leaving you without opportunity for inspired, meaningful composition. I would also like to suggest that you take up a hobby, because you obviously have too much time on your hands.

The day after I got home, my parents finally went to pick up their new puppy, Lucy. She's a fairly well-behaved dog already, and surprisingly calm. While this may change in time, I was expecting a hyper-active, attention-deficit stricken, mind-of-her-own ball of fur. By the time I hit the road today, Lucy was already adapting to her sleeping quarters, using the lawn for a bathroom, and responding to her own name.

Furthermore, I was able to meet with a lot of my friends to do lunch, dinner, etc. While I was home I was able to get to several of my favorite restaurants, including Wahoo's with Derek and Diane, The Crab Cooker with Jeff and Jimbo, Marie Calendar's with my mom, and Coco's (or was it Carrow's?) with Jim.

On Sunday, I attended a birthday party thrown for Nick and Jake, my "nephews" (not by blood, rather affiliation). The twin boys turned two and a lot of people showed up to eat, visit, and play "Thomas the Train." A good time was had by all, and as was the case over the entire weekend, I ate well.

Now what would a trip home be without a ride on the motorcycle? "A bad one" would be the answer to this question. This time, however, was not bad. This time was exhilarating. It felt so good to get on the bike and just scoot around town. I never made it too far away from home, but I managed to run a tank of gas through it which in total, was about 130 miles. I spent an entire half-day with the bike on the lift, cleaning and polishing, making sure that no part of it was deteriorating without my knowledge. When I finally put it back into the storage unit with the cover on it, I felt good that all the down time was doing it no harm. Just to make sure, I put some gasoline stabilizer in the tank and swished it around a bit. Never can be too careful.

All-in-all, I had a very restful 4 days off. It's a good thing, too, because it's not going to happen again for another month!

Well, what was I supposed to do, lady?

2008-01-26T18:31:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a pretty good day. Not often do I get to travel long distances off the interstates, but yesterday was one of those times. Coming South and West out of Kansas, I traveled US-54. Every once in a while (actually a lot more often than I let on) I drive a road thinking, "Man, I'd kill to be on my motorcycle right now." While US-54 is certainly one of these roads, I've found that a 750 cubic-centimeter-powered vehicle is incapable of hauling 45,000 pounds of cargo--At least the way I have it geared.

As I was saying, I was really enjoying the road. It cuts South through the Western panhandle of Oklahoma, through Hooker, Guymon, and a town on the OK/TX border called Texahoma (where'd they come up with that one?). It was in the town of Guymon (I'm pretty sure) that I realized my hunger and decided to stop for lunch.

Now, in a car or on a bike, you can pretty much stop and eat wherever you feel like. When your vehicle weighs nearly 80,000 pounds and is 73 feet long, however, your options revolve around a restaurant's parking situation. Fortunately for me, there was a small pizza-joint right off the main strip with a giant dirt lot next to it. Bingo! Honestly, I had just been thinking how long it'd been since I've had pizza, so this was a pretty good coincidence.

I got a few funny looks backing the truck alongside the restaurant, and a few cars on the main road had to wait a minute, but I didn't care. Besides, I got the feeling from the look of the town that anyone that lived here couldn't really be in that big a hurry. In the end, it was out of everyone's way, and almost out of sight from the road. I walked in and took a booth near the corner.

As I was looking over the menu, four people, probably all in their 40's, walked in on what seemed to be a double-date. I'm basing this assumption on the conversations that I'd overheard, but I could be wrong. At any rate, this detail isn't really important to the story. What was important was that in the whole restaurant, they chose the booth next to mine, and since it was a corner booth, two of the people's mouths were aimed at me. This would be a problem.

Now when I say that they were loud, I don't mean that I could merely hear bits and pieces of their conversation. I don't mean that I could just hear what both couples were saying simultaneously. I mean they were REALLY LOUD. I could hear subtleties in their interactions, like when people burped (you know the kind where they don't open their mouths, but they do it internally), set down their drinks on the table, and when they scooted over, or shifted a little on the seat. In fairness, I think the acoustics of the booth were in just such a way that I could hear better, but beyond that they were still loud.

I feel that I'm a very patient person. Most things I can, or manage to, tolerate. I say this because I was able to tolerate all their nonsensical, annoying banter to the point where I just kind of smiled, imagining the body language and facial expressions that were happening behind me. I was light-hearted about the whole situation... that is, until I heard this;

To her fellow table mates, "Hey, do you guys mind if I smoke?"

It was then that I suddenly realized that I'd taken living in California, eating in restaurants where smoking is not allowed, for granted. In the last few months of domestic travel I've become aware of states' smoking laws, and usually look for the non-smoking section if I enter a restaurant. Sometimes, it's enough to discourage me from eating there altogether because even when I'm across the restaurant from the smoke, I can still smell it. The pizza place I was in, however, didn't have separate sections--It wasn't big enough to have separate sections. It'd be like saying the back seat of a car is the farting section, and the front the non-farting section. In the end, everyone still has to roll down their window to vomit.

* Sidebar *

Now if you're a smoker and you're reading this, make sure you understand me clearly--I don't care that you smoke. I value and care for you as a person, and I think that if that's what you enjoy doing, and it helps you relax, enjoy a meal, etc., then great. Whenever I'm in a group of people (given that we're outside) and people are smoking, I never even bring it up, rather I make sure that I'm upwind or I politely excuse myself for a few minutes.

But, like the farting example above, when it affects me or other non-smokers, I draw the line. I may be a special case, too, because I've been told that I'm hyper-sensitive to the smell of it. "It's not that bad" or "Just deal with it" have been said to me in certain social situations, but I can never understand why those non-smokers aren't as outraged as I am. To me, it's worse than the smell of a truck stop men's restroom, and believe me, I'm qualified to make that comparison.

* Back to the restaurant *

To make things worse, just as she was lighting up, the waitress had brought my food. I've eaten in restaurants before where the air-conditioning system is so strong and well-configured, that I could eat without smelling smoke. I'm pretty sure that some restaurants are purposely built this way in states that allow it. I was hoping that this would be the case, so I tried eating one piece of the pizza. Nope. No dice. This wasn't going to work.

Even though I was astonished that this was happening behind me in a restaurant this small (and in which nobody else was smoking, by the way), this was not "my" town, or "my" state, and I didn't feel it appropriate to say anything. After all, the state must allow it, and nobody else even flinched when she loudly announced her intentions, so who am I to force my beliefs on some community I'm just passing through? I quietly gathered my silverware, napkins, plate, and pizza, trying to avoid the look of "I'm moving because you're smoking" and very gracefully transported it to a table clear on the other side of the restaurant--3 tables away.

Even though I tried not to make it look like a flee from their presence, I could still sense that I caused a change in the topic of their discussion. They got really quiet (Horray!) and I heard the smoking woman say, "It's not like I was blowing it in his face or anything!" I wanted to stand up and yell across the restaurant, "Well, what was I supposed to do lady, sit there take it?" but like I said before, I'm a very patient/tolerant person--That, and I'm usually the type of person that avoids making a scene. Usually.

I'd like to make use of the "Comments" button below, so... What say you? Would you have handled this differently? Bring it on.

Wow!

2008-01-24T20:24:00.000-08:00

Recently I was browsing the ol' Internet and came across a counter that tallies visits to sites. It's a free service, so I signed up for it, received the coding, and implanted it into my site. I figured that in a week I might get 10 or 12 hits, but 70 is pretty outstanding.

I have to say that I thought this site's audience was about 4 or 5 people--no more than 10 anyway. Unless someone is hitting "refresh" in their browser a bunch of times (by the way, please don't), there's a lot more people reading this than I thought. So, I'd like to say a big "thank you" to all those who've stopped by to read my journal. Now that I know people are stopping by I'll have to put a little more effort into my writing.

Please feel free to leave comments or questions with the "Comments" link below, and let me know you stopped by!

Snow Going

2008-01-23T20:33:00.000-08:00

Every mile is two in winter ~ George Herbert

Well, I'm kind of leaving it now, but for the past 3 or 4 days I've been living in a world of white. New Jersey and (especially) New York didn't make driving an easy task, and for some drivers this meant taking a time out on the side of the road.

The traffic jam above was due to two separate incidents that happened within 1/4 mile of each other. Luckily, I only had to sit through 4 hours of not moving only one time.

It's reminders like these that you can never be too careful when driving in harsh Winter conditions, and that's only two of the incidents I'd seen. Over the past 3 or 4 days I'd say that there were twice that many trucks overturned or stranded on the side of the road. I'm always especially slow in the white and the wet because I'd rather be there late than not there at all.

I took the picture below as I was leaving an especially heavy snow session. It was odd, because one second I was driving on a perfectly dry road on a bright, sunny day, and a minute or two later I was in the midst of a giant snow storm that took about 25 miles to cross. Essentially, I drove into, and then out of, a giant frozen cloud. You can see how hard it was to actually see the road, but what you can't see is the line of cars behind me, too chicken (or too smart) to go around. Instead, they decided to stay in my tire tracks for the duration of the sudden storm.

Two cars and a couple of big rigs decided they weren't too chicken and passed me anyway. I never saw them again, with the exception of the small import SUV, which I caught up to and carefully made my way around (it was backwards on the right-side shoulder).

The snow isn't all bad though. I'm still like an 8-year old kid when it comes to walking around (playing) in it. When I stopped the other night at a rest stop off Interstate 87, the whole place was covered in white.

When I returned to the truck after using the restroom and exploring the grounds a little bit, my footsteps had been nearly filled in with a fresh layer of snow. I'll spare everyone of the pictures I have of my name in the snow, but I will post this one:

How it's Made

2008-01-22T20:39:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite shows I used to watch before I went out on the road was a show on the Discovery Channel called, "How it's Made." The show simply follows the production of a certain product (3 or 4 per episode) from start to finish. While I haven't seen the show in a little while, yesterday I almost felt I had.

My shipping orders directed me to pick up a load in Baltimore, Maryland. When I got to the yard I dropped my empty and found the trailer I was sent to hook to. There was no lock or seal on the door, so I opened it and peered inside to make sure the load was secure. I always like to see how a load is sitting, just so I know how fast I can take corners, hit speed bumps, etc.

I looked in to find giant rolls of paper, laying on their side, heavy enough not to have to be secured from moving. I forget exactly how many rolls there were, but they weren't stacked on top of each other. The load's height was no more than 3 feet off the deck of the trailer, and the trailer wasn't even loaded to the rear wheels. Still, the load was heavy. It weighed 40,000 pounds; 5,000 short of my capacity.

I drove from Baltimore North through New Jersey and into New York. I found my way through small town streets to a graphics company tucked away in the forest. Walking in through the driver's entrance, my eyes opened wide to see the giant machinery before me. Some of it, as in the pictures below, reminded me of the giant engines you'd see aboard a naval ship.

I found the receiving manager and we completed the proper paperwork. Instead of heading back to the truck to wait for them to unload my truck, I got permission to walk around a bit. I said hello to a passing "worker" (a term used flagrantly by the narrator on 'How it's Made') and we talked for a short while about what the company does. They are basically a printer for several major companies, printing out in mass what their customers tell them to. They mostly do catalogs, but they also print for People Magazine, as well as some other popular publications I can't remember.

What struck me as interesting was the way the rolls of paper were lead off a giant roll and through the machinery. Back and forth between rollers, through printing modules that wreaked (in a good way) of ink, through flash dryers, and then finally through a process of cutting, assembly, and packaging. I was very lucky to receive a somewhat abbreviated tour of the facility from the worker I was talking to, and I thanked him for his hospitality. I mentioned to him how it felt like I was in an episode of "How it's Made" and we talked for a little while about the different episodes we'd seen.

My most interesting load to date

2008-01-18T11:20:00.000-08:00

It seems that over the past few weeks I've been transporting a lot of dog food. Dog food, and loads of mixed goods to Wal-Mart and Target. That's all good and fine, and from a driver's standpoint, it doesn't really matter what I'm hauling, but I like transporting "interesting" goods now and then, if for no other reason than learning about what it is I'm hauling.

Case in point--what I'm carrying now. I backed to a dock in Athens, Georgia, knowing only that I'd be hauling textiles. I figured it'd be some kind of clothing--maybe or blankets or something. This particular facility required the driver to monitor the forklift driver, so both of us could keep track of the quantity of product being loaded, making sure there was an accurate count.

So there I stood, at the door of the warehouse, peering into the large building at giant roll after giant roll of black cloth. At this point, I couldn't think of what exactly you'd do with a giant roll of black cloth, but I was going to figure it out.

The forklift driver would grab the rolls in bundles of three, skewering them with two giant crochet needles protruding from the lift part of the forklift. For a while, I just stood by the door counting as the forklift driver loaded my trailer. Eventually he climbed down from the machine to take a break, counting the rolls he'd loaded so far. When I asked what they were, the forklift driver described to me their purpose.

Construction (road) crews lay the black material down over top of the dirt before they pour the asphalt. This way, the dirt is kept from mixing with the asphalt, and the street resists cracks and potholes down the road (pun intended). Each spool is just as wide as a lane would be, and they're spooled out from a truck in front of the road crew.

This may not be interesting to everyone, but it is interesting to me, and I'm the one with the weblog, so there!

I Heart Kentucky

2008-01-14T15:55:00.000-08:00

It all started two summers ago when I rode through Kentucky on my motorcycle. The roads there are surrounded by beautiful landscapes and interesting sights. To top it off, the people I met while riding through were all really cool--Small town cool. I've never lived in "small town, USA", and despite advice from those who have, I still want to. Kentucky is full of 'em.

Today I drove south through the heart of the state on Interstate 75. Even though I spent most of my time today on the interstate, I still enjoyed my time there. The weather wasn't exactly cooperative, but that's sometimes what makes a place pretty. I did manage to take this one picture when I pulled off onto an exit that overlooked a long, deep valley. Maybe not the best picture I've ever taken, but the best one I took today anyway.

I took a detour today after seeing a sign that read, "Colonel Harland Sanders Cafe." It was the original KFC, where I could've "Enjoyed a delicious meal in the Colonel's original dining room and viewed Harland Sanders exhibits, or taken advantage of the convenient drive-thru service." I did neither, but I did take a picture as I drove by it!

Possibly less noteworthy was "Mater," who was parked across the street from the cafe:

For purposes of comparison:

Just Sitting 'Round

2008-01-12T17:58:00.000-08:00

Right now I'm in Ohio, in Swift's Columbus terminal. I've been here since Thursday afternoon, and I'm growing a bit impatient. Within the first month of going solo, every driver is required to attend a simulator class, which I finished yesterday morning. It was kind of a unique experience, surprisingly realistic to driving a real truck.

I was the third student to get into the simulator, so I had the benefit of watching two other people run off the road, hit pedestrians, and skid to a stop. It wasn't really that big a deal, as the instructor said that we weren't going to be punished for a bad score on the machine. The goal here was for the instructor to teach us different ways of thinking and strategies to make accidents more preventable.

It was kinda bull, but sitting in the big video game was really pretty fun--Especially without the pressure of being held accountable for a poor score. After all 4 of us went, the instructor sat in the driver's seat and showed us the "company way" of driving. He did fairly well, like he'd done it a thousand times before then.

The instructor guy was pretty cool, as when the class was over he let one of us (not me) get back onto the machine and take the rig off-road, through tight parking lots, and then through the store part of a gas station. He let us run a cop off the road, but drew the line at hitting pedestrians. Fair enough.

Anyway, I spent the rest of the day yesterday prepping the truck. I cleaned all the windows, blew out the interior with my air hose (of which my dad installed for me), did my laundry, and convinced the parts department that I needed a second mattress. Now, it's like sleeping on a real mattress! Much, much better. It's still cold, though.

Last night I hung out in the driver's lounge, where there's a big flat-panel television. I watched Psych for the first time in a couple of months, which was pretty nice. It's good to get a little taste of home sometimes. During the show, two people walked in, and I couldn't tell if one of them was a man or a woman. It's body was completely androgynous, as was it's voice, mannerisms, etc. It went over to the soda machine and got a soda before sitting on the couch across the room from me, so I figured it'd just be a matter of time before it had to use the bathroom. Low and behold, 3/4 of the way through Psych it got up and used the woman's room. It's good to have closure.

This morning my computer beeped with a load assignment, but I don't pick it up until tomorrow, mid-day. It looks like I'm heading to Atlanta. Given all this extra time, I decided to take a walk into town, and I'm glad I did. I walked a total of about 5 or 6 miles, as the terminal here is pretty far out in the sticks. Once I got into the heart of the city, I had chinese food, hung out at a guitar shop, and went to a dollar movie theater. I rested while watching the movie, "Mr. Magnorium's Wonder Emporium" and was glad that it only cost a dollar.

I have to look into these dollar movie theaters some more. I wonder if there's one nearer to home. They're movies that haven't been released to video yet, but aren't in the theater any more. For a dollar, you can get the same experience of going to see the movie on a big screen, and all you have to do is wait a little longer. Despite the trashy, run-down theater environment, it's still a good deal.

The positive to having two days off is that I got to recuperate, go for a walk around town, and reset my 70 hours (you're only allowed to drive 70 hours per week, but if you don't drive for 34 hours you can start over). The negative is that I'm left sitting around, posting meaningless minutiae on my weblog to keep from going crazy.

Jason and the Chocolate Factory

2008-01-11T17:25:00.000-08:00

It all started while making a delivery to a small town called Middletown, in Pennsylvania. Leaving the consignee without a trailer behind me, I needed to find somewhere I could lay low for a few hours and wait for my next load assignment. I was going to spend that time in some Wal-Mart or grocery store parking lot cleaning my windows and brushing out the inside of the cab, but when I looked at the map and saw that I was only 9 miles away from Hershey, Pennsylvania, I quickly changed my mind.

I've heard from a friend a long time ago that they were allowed to tour the chocolate plant (a la Charlie and the Chocolate Factory), and I thought that the same opportunity might be open to me now that I was in the area. As it turned out, I was only part right. They don't let people tour the actual factory (they used to), however, they did have a theme park-like facility for just this purpose called, "Chocolate World."

I found my way there in the tractor, only hitting a few overhead branches and leaves. Parking was free, and it was a good thing because I took about 5 spaces to do so. I stopped for a quick photo opportunity on the way in, letting a nice old couple take my picture.

After using the restroom (of course), my first issue was to get my free sample of chocolate. I'd been thinking about it on the way over, and the thought of a nice, small piece of Hershey's chocolate on my tongue sounded particularly delightful at that moment. I asked the guy at the information desk if they actually gave out free samples, and he told me that the did at the end of the tour.

At first I was a little disappointed that I didn't get my free sample then and there, but I then thought that I'd appreciate it a lot more having taken the tour, and seen how it was made. I entered the hallway that was the beginning of the tour on this, a mid-week day in January. I imagine that this would be the long line I'd be waiting in had it been a weekend day in the summer. They had a visual display on the wall of the history of Hershey, and I imagined that not too many people stopped to read it all. I bet that the number of children that gave the display a second thought numbered in the ones. I started to read it, but then like so many children before me, I grew impatient for the activity that awaited me. I took a few pictures of it thinking I'd read it later, but I have yet to go back and study the picture. Here's one in case you are curious:

Up and around some hallways of false rocks and trees, and then down to a spinning platform where I boarded a gondola with a speaker pointed at me. It's been a long time since I've been to Disneyland, but imagine the "It's a Small World" ride. The gondola wove around and under a false landscape, all the while being narrated by a very strong, very commercial male voice. It constantly spouted hack phrases throughout the tour, always careful to include the name "Hershey's" in it as often as it could.

The whole ride I was thinking to myself how somewhere, at some time, stiff-necked people wearing suits and ties sat in a board room trying to think of ways to get people to buy more product through various means of of conscious and subconscious techniques. They tried their hardest to make the whole situation seem like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but MUCH more commercial. They had machines that made funny noises and motions, but unlike the book or movie, their effort to ram product names into my head became a little frustrating.

Despite all the commercialism (and why not, right? It is their park after all) I did enjoy the tour/ride. The singing cows bobbed their animatronic heads up and down, flapping their mouth flaps open and shut to the music. I was pleasantly surprised when we went into the "Breaking Room" through a hallway where they blew hot air at you and a chocolate scent filled the air, only making me want that free sample even more.

One more time with the singing cows, past a cow with a camera (you could buy the picture of your group if you wanted to), through a hallway of crazy video graphics projected onto curved surfaces, and a quick reminder of which products to buy once released into the real world again, and then finally through one more tunnel to the ride's exit.

As I got off the ride, there was a girl standing at the exit with the free samples. I really wanted a small piece of regular chocolate, because after all, that's what I'd been seeing, hearing, and smelling for the past few minutes. The girl had the audacity (like she had a choice) to hand me some new experimental candy the company was working on. I tried it, and it was alright, but not what I wanted. I wandered through the gift shop and found a small bag of Kisses among the Hershey's sweatshirts, baby clothes, and four-square balls.

With my new bag of the chocolate that I wanted all along, I went to the one place where I knew I'd enjoy them the most--Back on the ride. The ride was just as enjoyable the second time around, but this time because I had my tasty treats to enhance the experience. I don't foresee a third trip.

I guess I can't complain too much about the day, because after all, I really doubt that Hershey's target demographic had anything to do with 31-year-old men out for a bit of free entertainment. Actually, I made out pretty well in the long run. I scored chocolate, kept busy for a few hours, and had lived every 8-year old boy's dream--I drove a big rig to a chocolate factory. I never saw an Oompa-Loompa, but not a bad day.

Two Pictures

2008-01-10T17:22:00.000-08:00

I've never disliked someone so much that I started spreading rumors, but I guess someone feels strongly about this guy:

I knew that eventually I'd see a truck painted like this. It was just a matter of time.

Um, Woops.

2008-01-07T19:38:00.000-08:00

I have always been secretly wondering to myself how long it'd be until I had my first 'incident' driving the big rig. I was fairly confident that it wouldn't be on the highway and instead in some tight-quarters of a warehouse trailer yard, and guess what--I was right!

First off, let me say that it was no big deal, nobody and nothing was smooshed, and I'm not in any trouble. Now that I've taken all the excitement out of the story, here's what happened.

I was given 5 days to bring a load from the city of Commerce, California (somewhere in LA) to St. James, Missouri. Toward the end of the 4th day, I found myself within 15 minutes of the Wal-Mart distribution center where I was to deliver the load. I called to see if they'd accept the load early, and they said yes. I was a little eager to drop off the trailer early because it might have looked good on my record to be early, but it was already dark and it had been a long day on the road. I weighed the pros and cons and decided to make the delivery that night.

I showed up at the guard's shack, did the necessary paperwork, and was given an area to drop the trailer and an area to get an empty to take with me. I drove around for a while, but finally found section A2. There were 3 empty spots to back the trailer into, two right next to each other and one by itself. The one by itself was more convenient to park in based on how my truck was positioned (although it was fairly narrow), so that was the one I chose. Like always, I rolled down the windows so I could both see the mirrors without any glare from other lights inside or outside the truck and so I could hear the situation. You never know if you're going to hear a crunch or a scream or something.

I ever-so-slowly backed with my head out the window, just as I always do. As it was a tight fit, I backed even slower than usual. I never felt a bump or jolt, but it got to a point when I had stopped moving. I let the clutch out a tad more, and still nothing moved. At this point, I thought that since it was very dark and I couldn't see into the spot very well, that there must be something on the ground (like a set of chalks or something) that was preventing my back. I decided to maneuver myself for a back into one of the spots next to each other--The ones under the parking lot light tower.

I backed into one of those without incident, dropped the trailer, and drove over to the lot where the empties were. I picked one out of the lot, hooked, and made it out to the guard's shack again for checkout. When I got there, there was another guy there too. I shut off the engine, and walked up to the shack. "Good evening," the guy said. "Were you aware that you backed into one of our trailers?"

"Ah, no, not really." Honestly, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind. The guy explained that one of the yard drivers saw me back into a spot, give up, and go for another spot, which made the other driver curious. When he checked the trailers adjacent to where I'd backed, one of them had a foot-long scratch about halfway down one side where our two trailers "kissed." When he checked the trailer I was backing, it had a look of "fresh metal" on the very corner in the back, right end of the trailer.

I explained the situation (paragraph 5, above) and that I didn't think I did at the time, but in retrospect, I guess I had. The guy was really nice about the whole thing, as pretty much all of their trailers are "badly scarred" anyway. He said that he'd like to forget about it, but he didn't want someone else to get blamed for the scratch, so he'd have to fill out a piece of paper to go into their files. On the paper, he was sure to write, "Total dollar amount of damage, zero dollars." I was remorseful about the event, but in actuality knew that it was no big deal to either Wal-Mart or Swift.

This morning I called my driver manager, Jenn, to fill her in on what had happened. I had contemplated keeping this off my record by not saying anything--after all, the Wal-Mart guy had said that this paper he filled out wouldn't be going anywhere official, and that if he were me, he wouldn't even mention it to anyone official on my end. I felt a little uncomfortable with this, so I made the call to Jenn.

I asked, "So am I in big trouble, or what?"
"No way," she said. "Yeah, if you have a bunch of these little events within a 6 month period the company would consider dismissal, but you have to consider that I have drivers that have jack-knifed their trucks without penalty!"

I felt a lot better after hearing that, but I still felt like I let myself down. For one thing, it was kind of embarrassing to have been turned in by another driver. It made me look like I was trying to weasel my way out of something when I really wasn't. I consider myself to be more of a stand-up guy than that. Secondly, I've done backs like that dozens of times by now, and although I'm still a newbie I shouldn't have come as close to the other trailer as I had. The whole thing made me a little gun-shy about backing in general, and that's a pretty big part of my job.

I slept on it last night with the thought, "Oh crap, how am I ever going to do another back again without hitting something." This morning, after I woke up I did a couple of practice backs in the empty truck stop parking lot, just to prove that I still "had it." Then, this morning I picked up a load from General Mills (cereal and granola bars and such) and had to back into a really tricky dock. One of the other drivers standing around (he worked for J.B. Hunt, I think) said to me, "Hey, nice back--It'd taken me twice as long to get into that dock."

And suddenly, all is right in my world again.

Gray Day

2007-12-30T18:34:00.000-08:00

Not a lot happened today. I woke up early in the morning in Barstow, headed East on the 58, North on the 99, and finally North on Interstate 5 out of Sacramento. The most excitement I saw today was driving the mountain pass through tehapachi on the 58. The fog was fairly thick and my truck is just about as heavy as the law allows, so I made sure to take things nice and slow.

The 18-Wheeler's Early Days

2007-12-29T21:14:00.000-08:00

Do you think it could have been predetermined that I would one day end up driving big rigs? For all the nay-sayers out there, I present to you Exhibit A:

I can still remember my early days of trucking. 1986 was a hard year--Work was slow, the weather was bad, and I was but 10 years old in a world of grizzled old men. But I think that by far, my biggest challenge back then, was reaching the pedals.

Big thanks to my dad and mom for digging out that ol' gem, as well as scanning it for me. Also, thanks to Aunt Mary Ellen and Uncle Mel for stopping by when they could to let a couple of kids marvel at giant machinery. I hope to one day soon pay you a visit en route to my next big delivery. Also, thanks to Jeff, who unknowingly let me post his image (in pajamas) on the Internet.

Home for a Holiday: A Photo Post

2007-12-27T19:52:00.000-08:00

Catching up is never easy, and there's been a lot that's happened since my last post. As stated in the post, "Slacking--Big Time" below, I did get a truck. Truck number 10041 has since become my new home, so to speak. I've got it pretty well customized to the way I need it. My dad and brother helped me bring it up to snuff when I came home for Christmas.

My very first load in this truck (and second ever solo load) was to Salt Lake City, UT. My driver manager gave me the load because she knew I could make it there and back again for Christmas. It was a really good trip, and while I saw plenty of snow, I never experienced any unwanted slipping or sliding. About as soon as I had left my delivery, I got another load assignment with a load headed towards home.

I drove hard the rest of the day, and all of the next morning which would have been Christmas Eve. When I got to the end of my route, I was a little surprised to see the receiver clogged with trucks trying to make their deliveries and then get home.

I finally dropped my trailer, and headed over to the Mira Loma terminal to take care of some loose paperwork and to pick up another empty trailer. When the dust cleared, I hooked the new trailer and sprinted home. Jeff and Jimbo met me down by the school district's bus yard where I left the trailer and then gave Jimbo a ride home in the big rig.

I made it home by about dinner, with just enough parking left over for me.

As I said, my dad an brother helped me make sure the tractor was road ready. We spent a few hours of Christmas day doing this. Jeff and I attached some welcome mats to the outside steps of the truck to help keep out dirt and snow, while my dad installed an air nozzle inside the truck that will let me blow out all the dirt that makes it past the mats. Dad and I straightened out the air and electrical lines to the trailer, and made sure they ran well out from behind the rear of the cab.

After a very prosperous Christmas, it was finally time to leave. Before I did, however, I met up with my good teacher buddy, Jim, for some breakfast at our usual spot on the morning of the 26th. Jim was also nice enough to supply me with some fudge he had packed (insert tasteless pun here) for me to take on the road.

After breakfast, I braved the freeways of LA, with my empty trailer en route to the shipper. Perhaps one of my best ideas ever was to take a dry erase marker with me, so I can write the directions on the windshield--Somewhat of a poor man's head's up display. I'm very pleased with this method, as trying to read a piece of paper while dodging 4-wheelers can sometimes be a bit challenging.

After getting my load of light bulbs packed tight into the trailer, I once again took to the highway. It's funny how light (as in weight) light bulbs can be. My trailer is packed full, and the load itself only weights 20,000 pounds. I've had trailers only loaded chest-high weigh twice that. I wonder if the fact that light bulbs contain no air inside them (they're vacuum-sealed) helps them remain lightweight in large quantities. I wonder if a million light bulbs assembled would weigh less than the pieces of a million light bulbs unassembled.

Regardless, I now sit outside the Costco Distribution Center, again in Salt Lake City, waiting for my delivery appointment at 4:30 in the morning. I tried to see if they'd take it earlier, but they just wouldn't see it my way. My last two pictures are of the following--First being towel-adorned Homer, that dances to "Macho Man." It was a cute gift from my mom for Christmas. She explained how she felt bad that I was missing so many Simpsons episodes while out on the road, and how it reminded her of me. It's certainly worth a laugh.

The second picture is of me, enjoying the snow in Salt Lake City earlier today. This Southern California boy just can't get enough of it, although I think with another few weeks on the road I'll be changing my tune.

How Not to Park an 18-Wheeler

2007-12-23T22:23:00.000-08:00

So after days and days of bugging my fleet manager, he finally said, "Fine, just show up to work in the morning and I'll have you take a truck out to Phoenix for me." Cool, I thought. I showed up and talked to Jenn, who would later become my current driver manager. Jenn is really cool and she seems to know what's up. She told me who to contact once I got to Phoenix, where the truck I needed to take was, etc. Being that Swift doesn't like to drive empty miles, Jenn also found a load to take with me.

I drove my personal truck over to the Mira Loma yard, where they keep all the trucks, and looked around for the one I was supposed to take. I finally found it, parked right next to another truck, passenger door to passenger door. As I got closer I could see that someone was moving stuff from one truck to another.

John, the guy moving stuff turned out to be a really nice person, but took FOREVER to unload all his stuff. John was getting a new truck and was moving his stuff into it when I arrived. My arrival only slowed his progress. When I finally left, I was postponed by 4 hours.

I snatched up an empty trailer from the yard, and headed out to Wilmington to pick up the load. I waited an hour and a half for them to load it (an average load time), and then hit the road.

Toward 1 am, I started feeling a little tired and was running out of driving hours, so I decided to pull over for a while. I pulled into a rest stop about 30 miles into Arizona to find it filled with trucks. At first I gave up looking for a spot, but then on the onramp I found a great big spot along the side of the road.

The spot made the truck lean to the right a bit, but the truck wasn't in danger of sinking into the dirt, slipping to the side, or rolling over so I was grateful for the open spot. I pulled in, shut off the truck after it was warm, and climbed into the sleeper. I woke up an hour and a half later and tried to start the truck.

It started up and ran for a minute or so, but then shut off. I looked down at my fuel gauge to see the needle below the E. I knew that I had fuel, but only a small amount. After thinking about it for a while, I concluded that all the fuel had drained from the left tank into the right, and none of it was reaching the engine.

I wasn't really that worried, because I know that Swift has a pretty fair roadside assistance record and getting in touch with them is fairly easy. I called the On-Road department, explained the problem and what I thought the cause was, and waited in the sleeper for 45 minutes. After a long, cold, heater-less wait, a younger guy in a small Dodge pickup truck showed up. I got out and greeted him.

I explained the problem, and figured that if we either put fuel into the truck or somehow leveled it, we could start it. After the guy put about 15 gallons of fuel into the left-side tank, I tried to start it. When that didn't work, he made a trip back to his headquarters, got about 30 more gallons, and this time sprayed starting fluid into the air cleaner while I tried to start it. At this point I knew it wasn't going to work, but the guy was relentless.

He finally admitted that it wouldn't work (after I convinced him) and offered to tow the truck to level ground to try again. I said, "Sure, do you have a big tow truck back at your office?"

"No man, I'll just use this one," and pointed to his 2 wheel-drive Dodge.
"Um, that's not going to work."
"Hell yeah it will!"
"There's no way..."
"Just watch, it'll work."
"Fine."

He hooked up his 1/4 inch chain to the tow hooks of my truck and the ball hitch of his, and got back into his vehicle. I then watched the back end of his truck hop up and down, spitting gravel and dirt as mine just sat still. I set the brakes, got out and tapped on his window (he still hadn't given up!). He rolled it down, I thanked him for his efforts and told him that I'd be calling someone else.

2 hours later, some professionals showed up, pressurized the fuel tanks with air, and bled the fuel lines as I tried to start it. Success! After they helped me start it, one of the guys explained that you should never park at an angle like that. For one thing, if you're near empty like I was, all the fuel will drain over to the low side. Secondly, if your tanks are full, they'll overflow onto the dirt, polluting the area around your truck, as shown by the dark spots on the ground in the above picture.

I'm learning things every day.

Slacking-Big Time

2007-12-22T21:18:00.000-08:00

I know it's been a while since I've posted, but I've been especially busy within the last few days. A lot has happened since my last post, and I'll try and catch up tomorrow night. In the meantime, I'll leave you with a picture of my new truck, a 2005 Freightliner Columbia. It's got a few miles on the 'ol odometer (360,000), but it's still clean and in good working order. Best of all, it's from the old school of trucks that Swift bought--Which means that it's top speed is 65 mph, and the cruise control will hold it there, too. Most of the new trucks are set at 63, with the cruise control set at 60. Also, they forgot to program my onboard computer not to work while the truck is moving. Suck on that, Swift.

Heads Up Their Butt

2007-12-17T13:29:00.000-08:00

If you're reading this without reading "Down to the Wire" (below), you should read that first.

After talking to the fleet manager in Fontana Friday, I called again this morning to see what the story was. Although I was instructed to wait for his call, I decided to be proactive in the situation because lately I've felt like I've been getting played. I called once this morning and got an answering machine, so I left a message that I wanted to be called back. An hour later, I called again and spoke to him in person. I told him my name and asked if he had listened to my message, but he didn't know who I was.

Me: "I talked to you on Friday."
Fleet Manager: "I don't remember."
Me: "Remember... we talked regarding my getting a truck that didn't belong to a smoker before me?"
FM: "Yes, well you're number 6 or 7 in line for a truck now."
Me: "What? On friday you said I was next up!"
FM: "Well, let's see what I can do. I'll put you with the other drivers with the same ("released to solo") status as yourself, which makes you... Number 3 or 4."
Me: "I don't understand how I went from being 'next' to being #4."
FM: "Well, Jason, you have to understand that nothing in the trucking business is for sure. Sometimes trucks break down, and I need to reassign drivers to different trucks even though I just released them."
Me: "So when am I going to get a call?"
FM: "You'll have to be patient, this is the very first time we've ever undergone a truck shortage. Maybe this afternoon, maybe tomorrow."

This is complete insanity. I've been told one thing, and another has happened. I've straight out been lied to. Earlier this afternoon I called Driver Relations in Phoenix (the company's HQ) and filed a complaint. I don't know if it's going to do any good, especially if my name gets back to my home Terminal before I get assigned to a truck. The people I've been dealing with don't seem like the type to take fault without retaliation back towards me. I understand that the complaint I filed might come back at me, but I couldn't not do anything. In the meantime, I've been out 12 days without earning any money (with the exception for the subbing, which I will see money from at the end of January). This totally wasn't in the brochure.

States I've Peed In; An Updated List

2007-12-16T19:46:00.000-08:00

Within the last 6 weeks--Marked in yellow.

Down to the Wire

2007-12-14T23:26:00.000-08:00

I called the fleet manager at my home terminal (in Fontana) today and found out that I'll be leaving on Monday. He said that I might be able to leave today, but since I've already made plans for the weekend that I'd like to keep, I said that Monday would be fine. I'm ready to get out on the road, and really ready to receive a paycheck again. That would be sweet.

The thing I worry about, however, is the condition of the truck I'll be getting. I brought up my concern about getting an ashtray for a truck and was told to "be flexible" and he will do the same. I may have to spend some time in the one they have until another truck becomes available; At which time I may be able to trade. Also, because he's in a hurry to get drivers out on the road, I'll be placed in the truck, possibly before they have a chance to get it detailed. If that is indeed the case, the fleet manager said that they'd "owe me" the service.

The terminal is going to get brand new trucks, however, they go to the experienced drivers--Not to the newbies like me. I'm really fine with that fact, however, I'm sure that whoever is driving "my" truck right now isn't going to be concerned with leaving his truck in a clean state. My guess is that he'll be more concerned with moving all his crap into a new rig, and not with the trash and stains in the one he's leaving behind.

Something tells me I'm not going to be a happy camper come Monday.

Memories of Breakfast

2007-12-10T22:00:00.000-08:00

I just remembered this story from the last week with my driver mentor, Bill. We spent the night in a Wal-Mart parking lot, waiting until the next afternoon when we could pick up a trailer. Being that it was the first night in a long while that we didn't have to roll and I could sleep stationary, I was in a deep sleep the next morning when Bill poked his head into the passenger door of the truck and woke me up.

Bill: "Hey, how do you like your eggs?"
Me: "Huh?"
Bill: "How do you like your eggs?"
Me: "We're in a parking lot!"
Bill: "How do you like your eggs?"
Me: "Uh... Scrambled?"
Bill: "Thanks."

This is what I saw when I woke up:

Scrambled eggs, Jimmy Dean sausage, and a tall cup of orange juice. Bill, if you're reading this, thanks.

Home Sweet Home... STILL!

2007-12-10T21:56:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I washed, packed, and organized my things, all in anticipation for my leaving this morning. I packed everything into my truck, had a quick breakfast (thanks to my brother), and headed up to the Swift Terminal in Fontana. I arrived, with the knowledge that I'd be leaving in an 18-wheeler--that I'd be working and earning money. I showed up to the office and was told to have a seat. I waited for about a half an hour before I was called into the fleet manager's office. In so many words, I was told that our terminal is undergoing a truck shortage, and that I was number 16 on the waiting list. When I asked how long it'd be before I was put into a truck, I was told that it'd be a "solid week, at least."

In the meantime, my mom reminded me that I'm still a substitute teacher, so I think I'll go do that this week. I won't see any money from this until around my birthday at the end of January, but at least when principals ask me what I did this year, I'll be able to say that I substitute taught, and maybe leave out the trucking thing altogether.

Making the most of my home time

2007-12-10T20:41:00.000-08:00

On Saturday my dad and I went to the Long Beach International Motorcycle show in, of course, Long Beach. It was pretty fun, but it wasn't like the motorcycle shows that I've been to in the past. This was almost exactly like a car show--Companies exhibiting their latest and greatest, vendors selling some revolutionary product that I've never heard of before but shouldn't be living without, unveilings, etc. Motorcycle shows that I've been to in the past have had custom bikes by famous bike builders, tattoo booths, and everyone showed up on their bike--An event for the true biker. I saw so few bikes Saturday, that I kind of wondered if motorcycles were actually the focus of the event.

Anyway, the highlight of the day for my dad was the freestyle street bike exhibition, going on in the parking lot outside the convention center. I wasn't too impressed, because after all, these are the same people that do wheelies and tank stands next to you on the freeway, risking both their lives and yours. My dad, however, was surprisingly entertained. I'll admit that it takes talent, agility, and skill to ride in a figure-eight using no hands, or balance the bike on just the rear wheel while maneuvering back and forth across the pavement, but it's just not what "floats my boat," so to speak. I was, however, glad to see my dad having a good time.

For me, seeing the new 2008 version of my bike was worth the admission fee. It's not that much different from my bike, but the new red and white color scheme really stands out, especially at this time of year.

My dad and I both agreed that the Boss Hoss motorized bar stool was worth looking at for a few minutes. I think the best way to ride it would be in the parking lot of a hospital. I don't see how straddling a V8 could be safe for very long.

Home Sweet Home

2007-12-05T10:46:00.000-08:00

It's been a long 6 weeks, but I'm finally home. Bill and I arrived home two days ago, but I had to make the trip back out to Fontana yesterday morning to take my on-road, backing, and written tests, as well as to claim my truck. My dad was gracious enough to drive me up there (round trip of 125 miles!) because I thought I'd be driving home a tractor. As it turned out, they weren't going to assign me to a tractor until the last possible minute, so I told them that I'd be back on Monday. Unfortunately for my dad, he was nice enough to turn around to come get me just before he made it back to his driveway!

Anyway, I'm going to use the 5 days I have wisely. Seeing friends, visiting with family, and spending some quality time with the motorcycle. Also, my computer just took a dump, so I'm in the middle of getting that fixed as well. If I don't post here for a few more days, know that I'm too busy to sit down in front of a computer while I'm home, but there'll be plenty of time for that when I'm out on the road, waiting for a shipper to load my trailer.

- Jason

Rocky Mountain Oysters

2007-12-02T07:56:00.000-08:00

Believe it or not.

Bad News, Good News

2007-11-25T21:08:00.000-08:00

After waking up from a pretty good night's sleep at a truck stop here in Montana, Bill and I trucked West, towards Missoula. We were to fuel there and await a new assignment that would take us to the Seattle area. At about 9 am, we fueled and got back on the interstate. Bill mentioned as we climbed the onramp that he felt the truck hiccup for a brief moment--a short loss of power during accelleration. About 25 miles down the road, we felt it again.

This time, however, it was longer than a hiccup. All the engine would give us was idle RPM's, and a warning in the trucks dash console, "Check Engine ECU Database." We used the momentum to pull over to a safe spot, and immediately put out the reflective triangles. I thought it was strange that I remembered the correct distances away from the back of the truck to put the triangles from the classroom portion of the academy training, but I did; One at 10 feet back, one at 100 feet, and one at 200.

We sent in a "stranded on the side of the road" message on our Qualcomm unit, and then I called the best damn diesel mechanic this world's ever seen to talk about the problem the truck was having. When I got his phone machine, I decided to call my dad instead. Ha!

Bill and I waited for about three hours for the tow truck to show up, in which time we did a little cleaning, organized and untangled the snow chains, and looked around the engine compartment to see if there was anything obviously wrong. When there was nothing left to do, we sat in the cab and watched a Monty Python DVD on the computer.

Finally, the tow trucks showed up. One was a big, buff, red truck to tow ours, and one was a regular tractor to tow our trailer. It didn't take the two drivers long to connect the vehicles, disconnect the drive shaft between the transmission and the drive wheels, and rig brake lights and air hoses.

We rode with the tow truck drivers all the way to Missoula, where there was a Volvo truck dealership/repair facility. We got there just in time to wheel it into their shop, where they'll look at it in the morning. I'm betting that my dad's right, and there's either water in the fuel, or the fuel system is somehow clogged. That's just my guess though.

Now, the good news. Swift put us up in a swanky hotel (cheap), which means that I can sleep without the movement and sound of the truck. Bill, however, still might have to tolerate the diesel noise created when I snore.

I'm going to go check out the hot tub.

Kids These Days... I Blame This on the MTV!

2007-11-25T20:59:00.000-08:00

Food coloring poured over icicles. Actually, a pretty cool idea--but it wasn't me, I promise (I'd have used red).

A Trucker's Thanksgiving

2007-11-24T23:52:00.000-08:00

Well, Thanksgiving is upon us, and for the first time in a long while, I'm nowhere near the people I'm usually near at this time of year. While I do miss my friends and family, I'm not too depressed about it, as it may be possible that I'll make it home for Christmas--Which I wasn't expecting to happen. At the moment, I'm not sure of the name of town I'm in, but I know that I'm in the very Southeastern corner of Nebraska, along highway 2.

I awoke this morning to the movement of the truck as Bill pulled into a Fed-Ex distribution hub in Kansas City, Kansas to pick up our next load, headed for Salt Lake City, UT. I'm not too stoked on this route, because it has us traveling along highway 80--The same highway we've been running for the last two weeks. I guess that repetition is something I'll have to get used to in this line of work.

I pretty much slept through the whole Fed-Experience this morning, as I got a late start on bedtime last night. I did wake up to use the restroom, and as I walked into the warehouse in my shorts and sandals (I was too lazy to get dressed up, despite the 23 degree temperature) I was nearly run down by one of a dozen (or more) forklifts on the other side of the door. I waited with my back against the wall for a herd of them to pass by with their loads, and then quickly ran across the aisle where I waited again. These forklift drivers were serious about getting their work done.

I felt the truck move slowly again, and then heard Bill talking to the gate guard about a discrepancy on the bill of lading. Not long after that, I felt the truck accelerate through all eight gears to highway speed, which has lately proven to be a very calming experience for me.

A couple of hours later I felt the truck slowing, so I woke up. I had a weird dream that I saw Osama and Saddam driving a truck, but I couldn't express to anyone what I saw (like my mouth wouldn't work or something), so they got away. It was a very frustrating dream, and I was pretty relieved to be awake. I opened the curtain between the sleeper and the cab, to which Bill turned and said, "Morning--Hungry?"

I only have one answer to that question, and he knows this, so I just said, "Duh." Even though I had just woken up, it was nearly lunch here in this time zone, so we pulled into a truck stop. Back home, nearly everything is closed on Thanksgiving, so I was a little curious as to what we'd be eating. Although there weren't very many trucks in the parking lot, there were lots of people sitting at tables in the restaurant we entered. A waitress approached us and explained that the smoking section was full, but there was plenty of non-smoking seating available. Perfect.

I learned today that it's never too early in the day to have Thanksgiving dinner. I also learned that for $9.99 you can get a Thanksgiving dinner special, with all the ingredients of Mom's Thanksgiving dinner, but it tastes nothing like hers, and it comes on greasy plates and you have to pre-clean all the silverware with your napkin. Mom, I ate all my vegetables.

Tryptophan, do your magic... I'm climbing back into the sleeper.

The Day After the Storm

2007-11-24T23:42:00.001-08:00

I know it's just frozen water and dirt, but it sure looks like the truck is playing host to some wicked growth. Like something you'd more likely see on the waterline of an old tallship, or the back of a blue whale.

Looking for Traction in Wyoming

2007-11-24T23:33:00.000-08:00

What a night. We left Tacoma Washington and headed East. For the first time since I've been in the truck it got cold. And by cold, I mean, cold. When the temperature outside dropped to 32 degrees, the truck's dashboard console flashed a warning, "Warning-Freezing Conditions Exist!" That was just the start.

Every few minutes I'd check the thermometer, and each time it would drop. 25 degrees. 18. 9. The coldest it got was 2 degrees, which is officially the coldest weather I've ever been in. What's nice is that the massive 6-cylinder Cummins engine right in front of us is extremely capable of keeping us warm, even in such extremes. I only had the heater turned up to 6 (out of a theoretical 10), and I wonder how cold it'd have to be to warrant full power.

Interstate 80 travels across Wyoming, and in doing so ascends and descends rapidly across the mountains of the state. By the time I made it to the first big ascent, I caught up to all the trucks that in previous hours passed me like I was shut down. They were all pulled over to the side of the road, and as I started to pass them, I yelled back into the sleeper for Bill's advice.

Bill poked his head out, and I asked him if the other trucks know something that we didn't. "Yeah, they're probably chaining up, let's pull over," was his reply. What he might not have realized is that we were just starting to climb a hill. Pulling over on an incline would prove to be our big mistake.

In the time it took Bill to get dressed and put away his bedding, the wind had blown tons of snow onto the road, and it was fairly impossible to see any more black. Seeing that the other trucks were not chaining, and instead shutting down for the night, we (he) made the decision to shut down as well. There weren't many cars or trucks passing us, so I assume that the highway patrol had shut down the road.

Despite our precarious position, it wasn't that hard for me to fall asleep. My big, comfy comforter is really nice in the cold weather, and it was nice to not be moving. About two hours later, there was a loud banging on our passenger side door. I rose so quickly that I almost hurt myself. I opened the window, and the officer said, "You guys gotta get moving, we're clearing the road now."

Back in the front, Bill climbed into the driver's seat. We took a few minutes to assess the situation. We turned on the inter-axle locking mechanism (locking differentials), put the transmission into it's lowest gear, and slowly let out the clutch. We moved forward a little, but not much. Long story short, we spent 20 to 30 minutes searching for some sort of traction. We could make it forward 2 or 3 feet, only to drive up on a fresh piece of ice and slip the wheels.

We had enough traction not to slide backwards when the brakes were applied, but not enough to gain forward motion. It was a frustrating event to say the least. Finally we found a spot where we were able to gain enough momentum to keep up our pace, make it out over the ice underneath us, and into the travel lane where there was a bit more friction. The new challenge was keeping our speed in traffic. Despite the yelling over the CB about not stopping on hills, the traffic we were in seemed to ignore the warnings. We had to leave room in front of us so that we wouldn't have to stop again (not knowing if we could restart), but close enough so all the 4-wheelers wouldn't barge in on us.

A few more miles down the road we found a Flying J truck stop where we finally shut down for the night. I'm glad I run into these situations while I'm still with my trainer. Not that I couldn't handle it on my own, but it's good to see what someone with experience would do.

Snow!

2007-11-24T22:58:00.001-08:00

Location Update

2007-11-24T22:43:00.000-08:00

It's almost hard for me to believe how much ground I've covered in the last four weeks. It's very unfortunate that we have to spend so much time traveling during the evening, and I'm saddened to realize how much scenery I'm missing while I sleep. Because there's two of us, we're expected to run as a team, however, once I'm out in my own truck, I'll be able to shut down in the evenings.

Even though I've become used to sleeping in a moving truck, it'll be really, REALLY nice to be able to work the hours I want, and sleep without the fear of being involuntarily rolled out of my bunk--Not to mention, not having to miss anything.

I've always liked taking road trips on my own, and my reasoning holds true to this adventure as well; I like being able to stop when I want, not stopping when I don't want to, eating where I want to eat, and seeing things that I want to see--All without having to consider someone else in my actions.

With Matt, our excursions were fairly limited. He liked the Southwest, so we never made it East of Houston, or North of Oklahoma City. All our deliveries were between these areas and Southern California.

Luckily, Bill travels to all 48 states. For the last two weeks, we've traveled to a variety of places. Colorado, Iowa, Indiana, Illinois, Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Nebraska, Wyoming, Idaho, and currently, Washington. By the morning, we'll be in Tacoma, Washington.

Driving through Utah, you can see a geological feature called, "Devil's Slide." We took a few minutes to pull over and check out this product of weathering and erosion on differing rock layers. I prefer calling it, "Devil's Buttcrack." Enjoy.

Utah Overlook

2007-11-24T22:36:00.000-08:00

The other morning, Bill and I began our trip East, to Illinois. Leaving California, we traveled North through Vegas on the 15, and then East on the 70 in Utah. Not too far after getting on the 70, we stopped in the early morning at what a sign described as a "scenic overlook." Boy, did they hit the nail square on the head.

We only meant to stop to use the facilities, however, we were only minutes away from a predictably beautiful sunrise, so we hung out for a while. Also, it was nice to be out of the truck. I know that some of you may have a hard time believing that I woke before the sun, so use these pictures as proof. Ha!

This post is for my mom

2007-11-24T22:27:00.000-08:00

I mentioned over the phone to my mom that I was driving through Virginia and North Carolina. I told her about the vivid colors of the trees I'd been seeing, and she quickly asked me if I'd been taking pictures. Mom, click on each to see them bigger. You're welcome!

My New Mentor, My New Truck

2007-11-08T13:05:00.000-08:00

Wow, did I luck out. It's been 2 or 3 days with my new Mentor, Bill, and I couldn't be more relieved. Bill is a very experienced trucker, with 11 years under his belt. Thankfully, Bill is a very clean and organized person--with traits that match my own. It's a nice change of pace, and a big sigh of relief from the two weeks prior. The things that Bill teaches me always seem to make sense, and he can usually refer me to another source if what he's telling me doesn't make sense.

The thing that amazes me about Bill is that he's had 101 students before me--two of which have jack-knifed the truck they were driving. In both cases, he and his student made it out ok, without putting the truck on its side or landing in a ditch or anything. I find it remarkable that he continues to take students, not to mention sleep whilst they drive!

With a new mentor comes a new truck. This time I'm placed in a 2007 Volvo 780. It's the biggest of the Volvo series, and thankfully so. While the interior is bigger than the International's, it's slightly less comfortable. I do like the exterior looks of the rig, but it's difficult to drive. The gears are harder to find, the gearshift lever seems like it's under and behind you, and the whole vehicle wanders back and forth in the lane when you're moving down the interstate.

I've underappreciated a feature on the International that this Volvo doesn't have--The headlight interrupt and marker light flash buttons. When you're driving at night, it's hard to tell when you've completely passed another truck (or during the day for that matter), so it's common practice (a courtesy, really) to 'flash' someone over. When you're in the right lane and a rig passes you on the left, you turn off your headlights--and then back on--to signal to him that he's clear of your vehicle. Flashing your high beams at this point would blind him. Once he's back in the lane ahead of you, it's customary for him to flash his marker lights--Kind of a 'thank you.'

Both of these functions were placed on the steering wheel of the International. With the Volvo, you're forced to lean forward to the dash, behind the turn signal arm, to flash off the headlights, and then reach way off to the right side of the dash to find your marker lights. The reach isn't that big of a deal until you have to do it a million times over the course of 5 or 6 evening hours behind the wheel.

Until I recognized that another problem could be fixed, I suffered through a day and a half of a very uncomfortable driver's seat. The seat pad didn't extend far enough out from the seat back, making you feel like you're going to fall off the front. Because of this, I'd use my left leg to push myself back in the seat, however, when I was shifting or coming to a stop I felt like I was falling out again. Bill showed me how to extend the seat out from the back, which has completely solved this problem, however, every time you get up it reverts back to it's shorter position, forcing me to fix it before sitting down each time.

Also, like other Volvos that I've ridden in (Derek), it's got this squeaky clutch pedal which can sometimes drive you nuts. Bill says that the squeak is not uncommon among the Volvo trucks. Figures.

Anyway, the mentor situation completely overshadows the vehicle situation, and I'm very thankful for that.

While I'm Waiting...

2007-11-08T12:47:00.000-08:00

While I was bummed that I'd have to be reassigned to a new mentor/truck, I knew that it would take Swift a couple of days to reassign me. It was a great chance to come home, pay my bills, do laundry (thanks Mom), and visit with family and friends. All that said and done, I was still left with a whole day to myself.

Why, what ever could I do with an entire day to myself? Hmm...

States I've Peed In...

2007-11-08T11:22:00.000-08:00

...within the last three weeks. Marked in yellow:

Two Weeks Down, Four to go

2007-11-04T21:32:00.000-08:00

About 3 or 4 days ago, my mentor, Matt received communication via our onboard computer that he had accumulated a few safety violations, as well as a couple of missing logs. We figured that when we got back to Phoenix that he'd straighten everything out, however, upon arrival we learned that this would not happen. In fact, the violations that had occurred almost a year ago on his record mean that he's put on suspension. He's still able to drive, but he won't be able to fufill his mentor duties.

What's this mean for me? It means that I now get to wait for a new mentor. While I'm a little bit happy to be free from my old mentor (he was a slob, listened to lame music, and was basically unorganized), I'm a bit anxious to the fact that my new mentor could be worse. Sure, Matt was somewhat of a tool, or "dudebro" as my friends and I would say, but at least he was a known quantity. I totally could've stuck it out for the remaining four weeks.

This time, I hope that I get a mentor that's actually older than me. I guess that age isn't really that important, but I would like someone who's experienced in the job at least. I always pictured getting an older, grizzled man, full of stories from his days on the road. Instead, I got a 24 year-old dudebro with stories about how he likes to get drunk and cheat on his girlfriend(s). A kid who's only been on the job a year and a half, and throws his dirty clothes onto the floor of the truck, next to a paper plate that a few weeks ago held a burrito, and expects me to tolerate his filth. All I can do now is to make a phone call tomorrow morning and find out when I'll be getting a new mentor.

Maybe I wouldn't have been able to stick it out for the remaining four weeks. Anyway, I thought I'd post a picture I took the other day while I was driving. Even though I didn't put too much effort into composing the perfect shot, it's one of my favorites.

Just in Case You're Wondering

2007-11-04T17:21:00.000-08:00

Just in case you're wondering, it takes two people all day to remove 1400 automobile tires from the back of a 53 foot semi-trailer. Not that you would be wondering, but if you were, then there's your answer.

Trash Talkin'

2007-11-04T15:05:00.000-08:00

You wouldn't believe how much nonsense you hear on a CB radio. Sure, every once in a great while it proves useful, but mostly, it's for trash talkin'.

Being that our truck is less than a month old, Matt hasn't had the time to properly outfit it yet. The other night he bought a CB at at T/A truck stop, and I installed it for him. The neat thing about his truck is that they make it really easy to outfit. There were only two wires that needed to be crimped together, and everything else just plugged into the back. There's a seperate little speaker above the driver's head that's there just for the CB. It's a pretty well thought-out system. A little too thought-out for such an unimportant piece of equipment, if you ask me.

Once installed, we were immediately aware of the truckers around us. I had figured that everyone had a "handle" or name they'd go by, but mostly you're known as whatever is says in big writing on the side of your trailer. J.B. Hunt is known as "Hunt," Werner, "Werner," J.R. England, "England," and so on. For some reason (maybe the Southern accent), everyone leaves the "T" out of Swift, and we're know primarily as "Swif."

I think I mentioned before that our company is considered a 'training company' in the trucking community. Other smaller companies that do not have the resources to form trucking schools of their own, so they head-hunt their employees from Swift on a regular basis. Because we have so many beginning drivers, we have one of the highest company accident rates. Knowing this, drivers from other companies are more than ready to give us a hard time about it.

"Hey Swif, how many tries you need to back that thing?"
"Watch out everyone, here comes Swif."
"Stay away from my truck, Swif--I don't want it scratched!"

But there are actually practical uses for the CB. A lot of times, you can warn other drivers (or be warned) of highway patrol and DOT officers before they (or you) come across them. Sometimes, like at a Wal-Mart distribution center, you have to wait in your truck outside the facility. The dispatcher will call you in on the CB when it's your turn. The most frequent use of the CB that I've seen is in communicating with other trucks in traffic. It's nice to hear from someone that it'd be better to get off and drive surface streets, or just stick it out because nothing's blocking lanes, or it's starting to clear up.

In my opinion, it's good to just turn the darn thing off sometimes and listen to the stereo--or better yet, the whistle of the turbo. Now that's good listening.

On the Interstate 40 in Phoenix

2007-11-04T14:04:00.000-08:00

Today wasn't that long of a day. It started in Fontana, CA, and involved driving to Moreno Valley to pick up a load to bring East with us. As we had gotten a late start, we decided to spend our first night in Phoenix, in the yard at the Swift Terminal. Matt and I were talking about where we'd eat dinner, getting free showers, and a good night's sleep. The more we talked about it, the more we were getting excited about arriving in town.

About 10 minutes away from our exit we noticed a small camper-conversion vehicle that seemed to be dripping fire. My first thought was, "what a weird thing to drip out of a camper onto the highway." It really looked like molten lava, but slightly more viscous. Matt saw it at the same time as I did, and before we could talk to each other about it, the people inside the camper must have noticed it too, because they pulled over quickly. I was driving at that moment, and I had to make a decision on wether or not I should pass the camper (that was now somewhat on fire) or slow down and stop before we were next to it. I chose the latter, as did the semi truck to the right of me.

Both Matt and the guy from the truck to the right of me got out with fire extinguishers, but really it was too late. While the driver and passengers were evacuating a few precious posessions from their truck (I think it was one of those Toyota pickups with an RV instead of a truck bed), Matt and the Jeremy (the other trucker) went over to the burning rig. Jeremy used his entire fire extinguisher at the back corner of the camper and it seemed to do nothing. In fact, in the time it took for Jeremy to empty his extinguisher, the fire had grown to about 2 or 3 times the size. Matt decided not to waste our extinguisher on a lost cause, so they both just backed away and walked back to the trucks.

Within minutes the Fire Department and police were there. We watched the fire truck spend a fair amount of time trying to put it out with their chemical hoses, but even that did no good. It got to a point where they decided to just let it burn down, so they came over to us and asked everyone to walk back along the highway about 10 cars. "Those propane tanks and the gas tank are going to go any minute now" pointed out one officer.

While it was very unfortunate for the owners of the burning camper, it was a rather fun event for all of us stuck behind the fireball. It was a time to talk to complete strangers, some of whom were en route to a halloween party, dressed up in costumes. Everyone paused when the propane tanks burst their valves, and shot out their gasses in a long beam of fire that resembled a flamethrower (which essentially, was what it was). The only problem was that we were stuck there for over an hour and a half, with dinner so close, and yet so far.

Finally, the police moved some of the emergency vehicles out of the way, and the two trucks in the front of the line (us) were allowed to pass. About 4 or 5 minutes down the road, Matt and I stopped at a Mexican restaurant he knew of and then we went straight to the terminal and to bed.

Location Update

2007-10-27T23:39:00.001-07:00

As I close my first week of running freight, I look back on where I've been already. Our first trip was out to a Michel's craft store in Oklahoma City. I forget exactly how many days it took us to make it out there, and to be honest they all kind of blend in together. What I do know is that it was a good first adventure, and I enjoyed it immensely. When we were almost there, we got a message on our Qualcomm unit--Make it BACK out to California, and make it quick.

We rolled home at a pretty good pace. We were hauling a load for DHL, and they needed it to be on time for their customers. The problem was, the load was assigned to us late (we picked it up from a truck in the area that had broken down). Being that it was already late, my mentor and I decided that we'd run hard, but not push it. There's no such thing as a load worth risking your life for. Well, no non-hazmat loads anyway.

We made it to Moreno Valley to drop the load yesterday morning. We went back to our Fontana/Mira Loma terminal and spent the night in the truck. My mentor went out with some friends for most of the night, so I had the truck to myself for a good while. After making some calls to family and friends, I took advantage of the down time and got some sleep.

This morning we woke up to the beep of our Qualcomm unit. We accepted the load, picked up the trailer in Chino, and are now on our way out to Houston, Texas. For those of you that know me well, I don't have to re-voice my distaste of this state. I asked if we could just "drive around it," but the idea was shot down pretty quickly. Oh well.

I'm sure we'll be dispatched somewhere cool once we're in Houston. Hopefully not home yet, I'm having a blast.

The Truck

2007-10-27T23:35:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a few days on the road, and I've got to say that I'm really enjoying it. As a whole, truckers are very outgoing and friendly. I'd bet that it has to do mostly with their (our) lack of human contact. Be careful who you do make eye contact with, because the ones you do make eye contact with will talk your ear off. Although I am usually hesitant to initiate conversation, I'm usually glad they were persistent enough to talk to me, and furthermore, I wonder if this is my fate as well.

My dad gave me his Caterpillar hat, which in this world has improved my social status--I just don't tell them that the tractor I'm actually running is Cummins powered. In this amazing world of chrome, NASCAR, and shower sandals, I find myself somewhat amazed at what truckers go through on a daily basis. The simple comforts of a clean bathroom and a place to brush your teeth are valued treasures here.

I thought I'd take a minute to post a few pictures of the truck I'm traveling in. We're in a 2008 International Pro-Star, which I really like. My trucking company uses Freightliners and Volvos almost exclusively, however occasionally you'll see an International out on the road or in a terminal.

Besides the fact that we're a little more decked-out and comfortable than those in the Freightliners and Volvos, we're in a truck that's not often seen on the road. I like that our truck is different from most rides we see every day, but in 5 weeks when I'm put out on my own I doubt that I'll be issued one of these. It's too bad, because I'm really getting used to it!

California is (was) on Fire (Duh)

2007-10-27T23:30:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that the Golden State is having some heat-related issues. The winds only aggravate the situation, spreading the fire like, well... wildfire. From where I sit in a T/A truck stop watching CNN, it appears to be nothing short of a national crisis. Yesterday, on my first day in the truck, Matt and I experienced these conditions first hand. As we drove North on the 215, we witnessed several overturned trucks along our route, capsized by the high wind.

As Matt explained, "Those trucks are probably all empty (lightweight) and were traveling too fast." We had just picked up a load in Perris and were only doing about 35 mph, so we weren't as vulnerable the the winds as the trucks we'd witnessed. Still, the rocking motion of the trailer was an uneasy feeling to say the least.

In addition to the wind, we had first-row seats to the fire along the 215. We drove--no, crawled--through traffic, staring at fire on both our left and right sides. The grass in the median was burning, which in turn set the guard rail posts on fire. At one point, I saw a telephone pole burn, with fire growing ever closer to the wires at the top (which crossed over the freeway, by the way).

The high wind lasted for a while, even after we scaled the Cajon Pass and headed East on Highway 40 towards Oklahoma City. Ascending the Cajon Pass, we could look back into the cloud of schmutz we came out of. It made it a little easier to breathe. Before we turned in for the night in Kingman, AZ, we heard from another trucker that the 215 had closed, and now all the trucks at the Fontana facility are parked until the situation becomes under control. It's a good thing we left when we did.

Pretty exciting for the first day on the job. Fire. Wind. Truck stop showers. Wait... what am I doing?

Eastbound and Down, Loaded Up and Truckin'

2007-10-20T23:24:00.000-07:00

There are three reasons why I am making the choice to enter the world of trucking. For one, big trucks have always fascinated me, ever since I was a little boy. While I've spent the last number of years pursuing my educational career (to which I plan on returing), I feel that I have a bit of a background with large diesel engines. Don't get me wrong, I don't claim to know much about large diesel engines, but I have spent a portion of my childhood near them. It's even possible that working with diesel is somehow coded into my family's DNA--After all, I have an aunt and uncle that have made a life driving trucks across the country, not to mention being raised by a diesel mechanic.

The second, and biggest reason why I've decided to spend my time hauling freight has to do with my curiosity of the open road. I've seen a few parts of the country from behind a windsheild and beneath a helmet, but there's lots left to see. You might say that the road trips that I've been on have created an explorative addiction in me that I'm looking to treat.

Lastly, I venture out on 18 wheels because I now have the time to do so. While teaching and working with children has been, and will always be, my greatest life accomplishment, I now find myself on hiatus from these goals. I know that I will be returning to education one day in the not-so-distant future because I really feel that's where I belong. Every once in a while, I get an email from a former student's parent, reminding me what a great year their child had in my class. It's emails like those that jog my memory of all the positive experiences I've had.

That being said, I will try my best to update this weblog from the road. As it stands now, I will be hitting the road on Monday, October 22 with my mentor driver, Matt. We'll be gone for about 6 weeks, with the occasional trips home. Internet access is not always guaranteed, but I'll post when I can. While I don't know what to expect at this point, I'm hoping that my next year will be filled with excitment and adventure.