A spill on the Plains

Tuesday, November 29^th, 2011

      The Great Plains. No more fitting title could be bestowed upon this span of the great North American continent. They are indeed vast and rolling. Roads may roll off into the horizon for miles, unimpeded by any malignant geography. They are indeed very plain. How plain? Let's find out.

      Today I spent my time driving through the remainder of Alberta, the entirety of Saskatchewan, and a tiny sliver of Manitoba. The other North American “bread basket.” The majority of trucks I've seen today were grain haulers. Wheat primarily, since it is too dry up here for corn I guess. There were some exceptions.

       One town in Alberta apparently grows lots of beans. Pinto beans to be precise. I would look up the name of the town if I had internet tonight, but I am without again. This town is home to “Pinto,” the bean. Along the Trans-Canada Highway (hereafter referred to as the TCH), one will happen upon a statue. The figure itself is about 16' high, sports a cowboy hat, gun as well as your typical cowboy boots. There are some arms like you would see in a “Mr. Potatohead” playset. I believe he had a lasso in his other hand. “He” being a slightly anthropomorphic pinto bean. I will say that they got the bean collor dead nuts right, little flecks of darker brown on a soft pink background, as per the real life bean. The googly eyes may have been a bit much.

      This whole display got me to thinking about what civilizations after us will think. I know that this is assuming that we will fall and crumble, since history sets an amazingly consistent precedent. I hope we can find a way out of our decay and fast! Back to my original thought, what would some archeologist think if they unearthed a giant (unknown material, but I'll posit some petro-chemical) pinto bean statue with googly eyes, a lasso and a gun? Would they take it as a holy symbol? (These people worshiped a genetically modified bean prone to violence and cattle rustling?) Would it be considered fine, ancient art like the cave paintings in Europe? (the goofy smile tells me probably not) Would they even understand it, or try to piece some story together from the broken remains of a small town? (most likely, and they'd assume that this part of the world was a bit off kilter).

      Small rural towns certainly get a bit lonely it seems. It seems to me as if they all want to be special, but not so different that the other towns talk about them. One town's claim to fame along my route today was that had “The First Pivot Irrigation in Canada.” Seriously. So someone puts a massive pump in the middle of a field. Then comes the bright idea to put the irrigation on wheels and move it in a circle. (My first sighting of circular fields was a bit confusing). Well, this is enough to post two signs (one in each direction) and have some kind of little museum for it in town. Simple folk.

      In spite of all this “Plain”-ness, I've enjoyed my time on this leg of the trip. The first three hours flew by. I was shocked to see that I'd already covered 180 miles by the time i though to look. I fueled up in Moosejaw, SK. and met some nice people. Had a bit of an incident there. Well, a couple, but one of note. I was pumping my fuel and washing my windows at the same time. Trucks stops as a rule have auto shut offs on their pumps when it gets close to full. It seems that this one did not. I was almost though washing my windows, when the guy next to me pointed, “HEY! Your fuel's spilling all over.” The pump was still going, spewing diesel fuel out of my tank like a geyser. A small geyser, but very alarming all the same. I released the handle, but only after about 20 liters (why is it spelled “litres” everywhere else?)of fuel had spilled all over the concrete pad. I ran into the store and told them that I spilled some diesel. A lot of diesel. (I wonder how much water a gallon of diesel can contaminate?) The maintenance guy reacted very calmly, “Well, that's why they pay me the big bucks. At least you came in to tell me. Most guys will just driver off eh?” I return to my truck to finish pumping, crisis now under control. Dude was one the scene with some oil-sorb (looks like cat litter but made to soak up oil and diesel) and was staunching the flow. Thankfully, environmental regulations mandate that all fuel islands have either raised borders (in this case) or be surrounded by a grate to eliminate runoff (like at the terminals). No water was harmed in this incident.

      My pride was a bit hurt, but I didn't feel bad about it. I felt more a sense of surprise that it did overflow. This gave me reason to recall the sign that said “stay at your pump while dispensing fuel.” Despite that warning, the maintenance guy told that this stuff happens almost everyday. I joked about it being all those damn Americans coming up North and screwing everything up. He kinda laughed and I apologized again for the inconvenience. I drove the rest of the day without further mishaps enjoying the ride the whole way.

Visions and intuitions

Monday, November 28^th, 2011

      Some days are certainly more interesting than others. As a general rule of thumb, the more one takes notice of events, the more one sees into them, and takes note of what is happening. For example, I am observing my emotional responses to events outside of my physical person. In doing so, I get the opportunity to observe the feeling, where it resides, and then choose how to respond to it. Thus far, it has been a fascinating process, all from simple observation. Outside of such esoteric events, the world presented all sorts of circumstances today.

      Not so long ago, I wrote a bit about wanting to find another company. Apart from the written word, that idea/action remained ethereal. I told Jen that I would call that other company today, and I was rather reluctant to do so; I'm becoming comfortable with my current situation. Someplace in Idaho, on U.S. 95, I had a flash of inspiration. Since I am working on developing my integrity (or doing what you say you will do... I honestly had no idea what that meant in that sense until like 3 years ago!) I chose to look at this as an opportunity to flex that muscle. After a short chat, I found out that I am eligible for re-hire and that the recruiter will pass my info along to a terminal manager shortly. Essentially, I'm in.

      Driving a bit further, it occurs to me that I am having second thoughts. Happens to all of us. I was figuring that I could always put off changing companies a bit longer should I not wish to follow through. I started thinking about the memories I've had with my former (future?) company when one hit me like a brick. Someplace in the south, either in Georgia, South Carolina, or in Texas, there is a memory that lingers. It is a warmish afternoon, cool for the region, but much warmer than where I'd been. The land is flat, and sandy, a slight breeze wends through a thick layer of trees and hanging vines. There is a hint of salt on the air, the ocean is not too far away. I feel so lucky to be there. This single event was quite moving, but still did not relieve me of my self-doubt. I needed a stronger example.

      There I am at the border. Papers in hand, passport at the ready. I'm dedicated to doing this run, since it is where I am now and this is what I am doing. Being in the moment. My thoughts ran thusly, “the border guard is asking a lot more questions than usual. What is that yellow piece of paper he is writing notes on? I'm glad he's OK with me bringing instant soup for personal use into Canada. Wait. What?” I've been asked to pull off to the side and come in with my papers and passport. Settling up to the counter, after a short wait, I am informed that I will be getting a background check. Sure. How long could that take? I get lightly questioned about places I've lived. “Well, right now is Washington, before that Massachusetts, then Washington again, then Massachusetts again, then New York, then Arizona, then Florida for a bit, then Arizona again, then New York again, then Washington, then Oregon, then Washington, then Pennsylvania.” I didn't say them in that order (which is chronologically correct) just a large handful of them, and he said he got the idea. So. I figure all is well. I am then informed that they want to look at my load of toilet paper, paper towels and napkins. They break the seal while I remain inside waiting. A short bit later, The guard is back. “It's stacked to the ceiling (I know this, since Costco works like this all the time) so we are going to have to offload you.” Translation: we are going to pull every pallet off your trailer to make sure we feel like we are doing our jobs. And because we can. The long and short of it is that I hung out there for 2 hours while they futzed around doing their searches, which included my cab; my teddy bears were left laying on their sides and a bit distressed. On top of that, it seems that they charged my company $290 (Canadian) for the privilege of wasting my time and unloading and reloading the trailer, hopefully in the right order, since this runs has 3 stops to it. All in the name of paranoia.

      There are two upshots to all of this. 1) Canadian border guards are real people. You can ask them questions and they'll answer, even silly ones. Try that here and the cop/guard gets all bent out of shape. This gave me an insight. It seems that by being more human, the Canadian guards get respect for being genuine and for remembering that their power has been given to them by the people. On the U.S. side of the border, Cops/guards get respect out of fear and by remaining separate from the root of their power. That made me rather sad on a certain level. 2) After all of that crap, I am quite sure about my decision to switch companies. I'd be stoked to see Texas and the Deep South again. Maybe not to park in Arkansas, but just to smell the air once more. And to avoid chaining my tires. Screw that.

Dinos and beards

Sunday, November 27^th, 2011

      Somedays, I don't even know where to begin. I'll just roll right into it without a leading paragraph.

      Today I started in a place called Granger, Washington. It is a small place in the Yakima river valley, a bit South and East of Topppenish, and Northeast of Grandview. There's not much to speak of in this town. Were I to guess, I'd estimate about 1000 souls live in the vicinity, probably God-fearing Christians most likely. Well, there's a truck stop here. It isn't the Ritz, but the bathrooms are clean enough, and they have coffee if you're interested. No liquid creamer though. They have a fancy dispenser with all these different types of powdered/partially hydrogenated non-dairy creamers. I could've had hazelnut with my trans-fats! Getting back to the town, it seems that lots of places want to be known for something. I'm sure that They would have a big “G” on a hillside in white like so many other small towns with identity issues, but Granger sits on flat land in the valley. They do, however, have all sorts of dinosaurs roaming around.

      This town is monomaniacally dedicated to dinosaurs. Just driving through of WA 223, one will see about 20 dinos. I admire the idea that they like something so very much, even if it gets mixed up with their identity. To the amusement of a passer-by, there is a park filled with dinosaur ... “statues” (I guess). The one that amuses me is the T-rex standing over a table with jaws open, as if eating some hapless picnicker. They've even named their espresso stand “Dino-Java” just so you get the idea. At last count there are 4 dinosaur “statues” outside the truck stop. I expect that they will start multiplying soon.

      The next leg of my trip brought me back to Portland. I really enjoy Portland as a city. I even like the people there. There has been a campaign going for sometime called “Keep Portland Weird.” It has also been speculated that this motto was lifted from Eugene, Oregon, which in my mind is certainly a stranger place with less hipsters. Which brings me to the gem I saw today. Driving down the freeway, a pick-up with a cap passes me. I'm a bit of a sucker for bumper stickers so I tend to read them, and the one that caught my eye read “Keep Portland Beard.” While I'm not laughing out loud as I did when I read it, it still makes me smile. It kinda plays on the whole hipster thing and the idea that we have to be weird to be special. We're all special. Just like little snow flakes.

      I'm feeling a bit tired and out of it still, so best to wrap this up. I picked up my load, and went to the terminal. My truck has been leaking air for quite some time now, but it hasn't been enough to be a) dangerous or b) illegal. Seeing that I'm going into Canada, I'd rather not have any kind of hassle at the weigh station in BC (since I've still got to pay that $115 ticket). So I pulled into the shop to have that fixed. Turns out that I somehow lost a mudflap. I didn't hear any cars crashing behind me, so I figure that it didn't fly off on the freeway. My best guess is that somebody stole it at the truck stop in Granger, and I failed to notice it was missing this morning. Thank goodness they replaced that! They fixed something else I didn't think was broken. It was odd at first, but I'd gotten used to having my ignition switch turned 90° counter clockwise. I got back in my truck and realized how used to it I had become when it was so bizarre to twist the key a different way, the standard 12 and 6 position. Then off and running up to Pasco, WA. I expect the next few days to be rather busy, but at least I'll likely have internet access at some point, Wednesday at the latest. We'll see how cold it is this time!

But I'm not Irish!

Saturday, November 26^th, 2011

      Today has been an exceptional day! After taking some time off to see Jen, coming back to work has been an experience. I know it has only been three nights and 2.5 days, yet I am surprised at how out of it I have been all day today. For the most part, everything went fairly well, and I have discovered how truly lucky I am. I wonder, perhaps, if we can only prove our luck by having things go wrong.

      To start the day off, I took the Seattle public transit system to get reasonably close enough to walk to my truck. For those that have never ridden the bus and/or train and/or light rail of teh greater SeaTac metro area, I will gladly explain. First of all, we have the Metro system. This serves King county. Sweet. It is all buses. That is simple enough, barring the archaic morass that is their website. If you weren't frustrated by the almost useless website, things get more complicated by adding a second transit system. No kidding! (Puget) Sound Transit consists of the express buses, the light rail, and the Sounder (a regional train). It got even better with 3 transfers and it being a Saturday! Hilarious. I managed to get where I was going by the time Google maps suggested that I would arrive, although i could have left a half hour later. On the upside, they have developed a new ORCA card (one card that does all of the transit) to streamline the process. I look forward to getting one soon. Now that I know things about how Saturdays and Holidays work, I am better prepared for the next time.

      So, I've made it to work, and taken a 2 ½ hour detour to pick up an empty trailer. Rolling down I-5 like my pants are on fire. Get into Portland, already knew the detour was there (parts of Marine drive are closed by the terminals) and blasted along. No traffic, making lights like it was my job. Get to the shipper, jump out and learn that my trailer is ready to go! Awesome! All I have to do is hook up to it, do my computer work and leave. Get back to the truck and open the door. Except that it doesn't open. No problem. I have my keys. Not in my hoodie. Hmm. Not in either pants pocket. “Oh shit.” Sure enough, they are still in the ignition behind the locked door. I know where the spare key is. It's on the floor next to the driver's seat. I still haven't stowed it somewhere safe. Well it was safe, but not doing its job at being a spare key for when I lock myself out. I call my company and tell them I'm locked out. Sure.... they'll send a tech out with a key who's on his way home. I call talk with every driver on the lot, seeing if they have a key that will work. Nobody does. One guy even seems all defensive and pissed off that I would even ask him. I ask people if they have a slim jim ( a long flat metal tool for breaking into locked doors, I'm quite good at using them) and nobody has one. Bummer. I learn that they lock the gates in an hour! With this new information, I call my company at 16:10. The day techs have left already and it seems nobody was coming my way. They were even trying to get somebody to deliver a key but they didn't have any techs to do it. Something tells me that the last driver might have left a key somewhere outside the truck, hidden. After a brief search, I find that my intuition is correct, and there is a key hanging on the rear license plate frame (which is JUST behind the cab faring). I am jumping up and down for joy, skipping along and relating this to another driver on site. He says, “Better go buy a lottery ticket before it goes.” Maybe I will.

      This last bit isn't luck so much as me being a space cadet and forgetting how to do my job. I arrive at the Walmart distribution center, all happy that I can drop early. Hooray! Waling into the guard shack, I tell them that I am here to drop a trailer. The guard looks at me and asks, “so uh... do you have any paperwork?” *faceplam* Every trucker knows that you bring the paperwork with you at the consignee. They might want to know what it is that you are giving them, even Walmart. I drop my load then look in the loaded row for an empty trailer. Unlike a typical trucking company, there are no empty trailers in the loaded row, and no loaded trailers in the empty row. I am just thankful at this point to be done for the day and going to bed soon. After I unpack all of my stuff. Almost back to “trucker mode.”

Fails and Tales

Tuesday, November 22^nd, 2011

“Storms out here in the Northwest.”

“Yep.”

“It gets like this every November. Clouds dump a couple feet of snow in the pass and people drive like they're in a hurry.”

“Yep.”

“Glad we don't live up there. I don't think these tired old bones could handle it.”

“Yep.”

“Pass that bottle of whiskey, will you Ma?”

“Yep.”

      Ah Snoqualmie Pass. The stuff of legends it is. Why, I heard one day that it dumped 48 inches of snow. People trapped in their cars for weeks. They were living off peanut shells and toenail clippings. Luckily they had enough gas to keep warm, else they would have froze to death and ended up like the Donner party a while back. I even heard that one of the truck drivers got so cold he done turned himself blue, then ran around pretending to be a yeti. How he didn't freeze his tonker off in that cold is beyond me, but Ma said he drank himself some of that orange “extended life” antifreeze. He must've been one tough guy. Some say he never went back to his truck. They even say he preys on hapless skiers, eating their ChapStick^®. My cousin up on the mountain told me that some times, in the dead of night, you can hear him... “Breaker 1-9'er.” Chills me to the bone.

      So today I got to deliver a local run. Not quite on purpose, but it seemed to be the thing to do at the time. The idea was that I was going to pick up a load here at the yard, then drive it all of 5 miles, and baby sit it while it unloaded. Cool. So I wake up at 0500, getting ready to start my day. Instead of starting my clock, I decide to take a constitutional and walk around the lot, in the rain and look for my trailer. I will never again complain about the wet winters here after a few days of -22° F. So I'm walking, and not finding my trailer. My DM is still not here yet, so I wait a bit longer, hoping it will show up soon and half dozing off.

      Seeing as this load is set to deliver at 0800, I try to be proactive about it. Maybe I'm a bit twisted, or sick in the head, but I get a certain happy feeling about doing something on time. I wonder if it releases some endorphin for me or something. I detest being late, especially when it is within my control. If it isn't then so it goes. I've learned to cope with that. If it is someone else being late, I don't mind so long as I know. That helps me cope as well. So I call my DM at 0645. I learn that the load is expected to arrive at 0800.

      If I am to deliver that load, the other driver has to drop the trailer and unhook (about 10 minutes if you're not in a hurry). I then have to hook to the trailer and drive down there (again about 10 minutes to hook). Given the drive time of 0820, or rush hour in Seattle, I rightly conclude that this load will not deliver on time.

      Then there comes a scheme. My DM writes to me, “the other driver will meet you at the Safeway DC and you can relay it from there.” I was a bit confused and, honestly, upset about that. I wondered what the point of it all was if we were just going to switch right outside of the gate, on the property. My DM continued, “He's a day cab driver and I don't know what his hours are.” Ok fine. That makes sense. Day cab people get paid by the hour, so sitting is not something the company likes to have them do. Which has JUST made me wonder how much I'm getting paid to burn my clock. We'll see if I get an answer soon.

      The upside of this is that I did not have to go up and over the pass. It has been snowing like all get out up there, and it is all they can do to keep the pass open. Chains have been required for the last 48 hours going east bound. Not a big fan of chains. Whips, maybe, but gotta draw the lines at chains and snow. Cold metal just doesn't do it for me. The opposite in fact. When it comes down to it, I'll do it if I feel like I want to, but today I didn't have to test myself. I got to go to Portland instead and drive through rain. Word. A simple 6 hour run there and back. Ideally, I would have delivered 9.5 tons of toilet paper to a couple of Costco's, but I was dispatched too late to get a 10 hour break in before I had to deliver. So I've dropped it here in Pacific, where I get to do the same thing tomorrow morning that I did today, although the trailer should be here well before delivery. Good to check these things you know.

Applied physics?

Monday, November 21^st, 2011

      For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Newton' s third law of motion, right? Does this still hold true in the laws of physics? In light of all the quantum going on these days I've fallen sadly behind the cutting edge of science. Despite that, I'd like to extrapolate this 3^rd law into life at large. I mean, if we make rules for forces we cannot see, then why restrict these laws to merely the realm of physics? Shouldn't all universal laws be just that; Universal? Taking this to the human level, we can safely conclude that all actions on our part engender reactions, or consequences on the part of the world; this holds particularly true when other people are involved.  I shall elaborate.

      Canada. I certainly have a hate/hate/love relationship with Canada. Mostly on the dislike side obviously. Everything up there costs more than down here, or so it seems. There is no getting around the cold winters. I do not care to be up there more than I have to. That said, I went in today to talk to my DM about not doing Canada anymore. It was a bit tough for. I have certain difficulties expressing displeasure, this is my own belief that I am choosing to indulge in here. More specifically, I have long lingered under the impression that if I display displeasure in a circumstance then I am disturbing the peace. I'm starting to reframe that into the idea of me expressing myself and what I feel my desires/needs are. After telling my boss, he goes to his boss.

      The boss' boss then came up to the driver's window and proceeded to explain how it wouldn't be fair to the company to have me do this for two weeks then jump ship. They paid me a bonus for signing on, and he further went on to say that they would not have hired me were I unwilling to go into Canada. I listened attentively as he explained how freight for Canada is more steady in the winter months of January and February, seeing as we mostly deliver to Costco up there, and they don;t stop for hell or high water (paraphrased). I was encouraged to give it 6 months. I assented, given the fairness of it all, after asking if they wanted the bonus back should i continue with my desired course, to which he was rather evasive. Chances are that they will not take it out of my check, but still, a direct knowledgeable answer would have increased my trust.

      The important thing here is that I have learned a lesson. When it comes to situations, if it is not exactly what you want, then do not be afraid to walk away from it. At the time I applied, I felt as if I had a couple options. The sign on bonus was a nice incentive. Ultimately, what I really want is to be driving down into Texas now and again during the winter. I like to run the South when I can, but especially so in winter. This is something I should have asked my recruiter before agreeing to go to orientation; whether or not they run Texas. I simply assumed that such a big company would indeed be visiting the Lone Star State on occasion. I learned otherwise on the second day of orientation.

      I would have considered going right then and there, but I put myself in a position in which I felt I needed to start earning money sooner rather than later. This is my own fault, for which I accept full responsibility. Going forward now, I am looking into driving teams for Schneider, but not without asking some serious questions first. I know that thye require a driver to have a HazMat endorsement on their liscense. That will take some time and finagling. I've got to get fingerprinted and a background check done. Woo Hoo. Then I have to go take the test and pass it. Both of these things take time and money., but that is how it goes. The one thing in the job posting that caught my eye was “passport preferred.” My question then becomes, “is a passport mandatory?” (passport=Canada runs, which is what I no longer want). Additionally, Schneider teams earn UP TO $0.39 per mile. I wonder if that is split, because I earn $0.34 per mile in another month of experience. Why go through the hassle for such a meager increase, especially if it is split? Granted, Schneider will find me a team-mate, so that helps a lot. So long as he's a good team-mate. That, I suppose, depends on how we get along really. I did call the recruiter today and left a message. At least the ball is rolling. Barring that, I could always go back to Swift, a company I know well. Time will tell.

      This is such a unique industry in that you can bounce from one employer to another just like that. For the most aprt they'll accept you, but I've read about some companies wanting drivers to have less than 3 companies in 3 years. Shows stability i guess. Hmm. So for now, I'll be going back to Canada as required, but hopefully not every run. That would get old really quick.

A run for the border

Sunday, November 20^th, 2011

      No longer am I a visitor in a strange land. I have finally returned to the United States with all of its dysfunctions and foibles. Most importantly, I am back to familiar signage, customs and roads. This is very comforting to me for some reason, but simply crossing an invisible line makes a huge difference.

      I woke up this morning, thinking about getting some coffee. I was pretty set to sleep for another four hours or so, but I had told the office that I would have the load at the terminal by 11 a.m. So i reluctantly dragged my ass out of bed and got dressed. My teddy bears were more understanding than I was. They're good like that. Pulling myself together, I finished up my log book from last night, and got my stainless steel super insulated coffee mug out of its cup holder and walked to the truck stop's c-store.

      Climbing down and out of the truck and into the early morning darkness, I felt for a moment that I was back in the U.S. already. Then the memory turned back on and I felt a bit disappointed that I was still in Canada. Shrugging that off, I walked onward glad to have the temperature on the positive side of zero for a change. It would have been warmer if it had been cloudy last night, but it was a clear night and the ground was frosted this morning. Looking up, I saw the black silhouette of the rocks just to the southeast of the highway. Hanging directly above the formation was the waning crescent moon. Took me a bit to recall what part of the cycle it was on, since I hadn't seen it for some time. That and trucking tends to put one out of sync with any kind of natural rhythms pretty quickly.

      After spending a few moments with my thoughts, I walked on only to find the whole truck stop shuddered under those roll down metal security devices. I asked myself if we were in downtown Detroit. There are no buildings around the truck stop, presumably for at least a couple of kilometers. How sad is it that the whole place needs to be under such a draconian lock and key. I wonder what it is that they fear. Still, their fear is not my problem, so much as an inconvenience to me. Still a bit groggy, I get back in my truck and drive away; but not before narrowly missing a light post standing alongside the on ramp.

      Crossing the border was amazingly easy. I just handed over the manifest and my passport. The guy was cool enough, but I was a bit shocked to discover that they charge $10.75 to cross the border. The company pays for it eventually, and I'm glad i had some money on hand; this is made irrelevant in that they also accept Visa, Mastercard, and American Express. Wow. So after checking all my paper work and suchlike, i am dismissed off to the next station.

      The next checkpoint involves driving through a shed. That is groovy in and of itself, but the contents of the shed bother me a bit. Inside, there is a truck. That truck has a huge boom that spans the width of the shed, goes over your truck, and down both sides, like a giant metal staple. Affixed to both legs of the staple are x-ray devices that they scan your truck with. Yes those kind of x-rays, the kind that you are not supposed to get to many of or start mutating. SO yet another reason to stop trans-border trucking. Like I need one really.

      Heading toward Bellingham I actually got lost. I took a wrong turn in the wee hours of the morning by taking WA 546 instead of WA 542. It was an honest mistake. I drove past a number of dairy farms, thinking I might turn around in their driveways, but they are all kinda tight. That and i didn't like the idea of pulling a big truck next to somebody's house at that hour just because I was lost. Eventually, I managed to loop around some side roads and wend my way back to the terminal. Being lost seems so much more benign when it is close to someplace you know. It is good to be back.

Thrown for a loop

Saturday, November 19^th, 2011

      Only moments ago, I was ready to rant and rave. Some things will push a man to the brink. Tension mounted as the time slipped away, ever faster as the deadline approached. I was already composing a very nasty letter in my mind's eye, seething with anger, rage, and frustration. Then something in me stood up to take notice. Peace washed over me, like a dam had burst. Then the world shifted. What was a great obstacle became a challenge. By merely noticing how I was feeling, I was able to completely alter my internal reality, and what a difference that made.

      Today started in Calgary, and has ended in Hope. Cute metaphor eh? I'll work my way backwards through today's major events, starting with what just happened. O.k. I can't tell it backwards, so I'll start in a place called Kamloops. Seriously. 

 

      Topping off the fuel, I felt gratified that I finally had earned a shower after registering my frequent fueler card. All the big truck stops have one. Standing outside the building, facing the sandy cliffs across the river, I was asking myself, “Stay or go?” I had a few hours left to run, so I thought a shower could wait for one more day if I decided to go. Climbing back into my rig, i consulted my road atlas. My intended route was a blue line. Sweet! I've come to understand that blue lines mean “hammer down” (or making good time). I released the brakes and I was rolling right through Kamloops, wondering if I should stop at the other truck stop or just keep on *ahem* truckin'. Before getting to the truck stop on the other side of town, I started to climb a hill. Happens all the time. I get to the top of the long hill (a 15 minute climb I kid you not) with my 20 metric tonnes (22 regular tons and change) of bailed, corrugated cardboard destined for recycling and there's the weigh station. Now, I'm a tad concerned about getting weighed after my last encounter with the chicken coops (cool trucker slang for weigh station), especially so this time, since I put on more fuel than I intended. Being an American, I have an American job. The people in the USA use the imperial system. So I get my fuel routes in number of gallons. Normally, I've been able to fill my tanks in Canada which is a hard conversion to mess up; this time I was authorized for 80 gallons, only 60 of which I really wanted. Any more than that, and I risked being overweight on my steering axles. So there's the weigh station. It is open. My experience is that all the chicken coops in British Columbia are open all of the time. Well, all of the time I don't want any part of it. I decelerated. Dropping gears slowly, to give the impression that I took their laws seriously. I reach the scale, look inside and nobody's home. The steer axles clear the scale, and my drives are on the platform. The lights telling me what to do have not changed, so I keep going. I pull just past the scale house and see that there is a truck in the inspection station. I saw it before, but now I notice two officers walking away from the truck and towards the scale house. My trailer tandems are almost weighed. Just as they reach the door, my trailer tandems clear the platform and all the weight display reads “00000”. I pulled forward slowly, so as not to give the impression that I was making a break for it. Checking my mirrors, I looked back and there were no flashing lights.

      Free from that ordeal, and very grateful for it, I proceed along my road. From the first truck stop, I'd say that I've gained about 900 feet in altitude. I figure that since before I was driving along a river (which tend to be nice and flattish) that I've reached the top and it was all down hill from there. Boy was I wrong. I climbed a 20km long hill. 20 KM!! I figured the elevation was about 2500 meters or so, but I'm no altimeter. The roads were crusted with hard packed snow. Stuff the snowplows just bounce off of. Then, surprise! Another hill! Climbing again, I eventually reached the down hill, another 20km jaunt along snowy and icy surfaces, but down this time, so gravity is working against you in a more dangerous way. I scanned the terrain, and was pleased to see that the road opened up into a broad valley. There were even farms there, which for some reason shocked me. I figure I can make some good time from here on out. The roads are a bit cleaner, and the land is finally flat.

       So I start climbing another mountain. It was at this point that I started to get frustrated. It was like the road engineers went to a zoo, gave the monkeys crayons, and had them purpose a route for a 4 lane free way through the hills. Not only that, who ever thinks that a 12.5 mile long hill is a good idea? Let alone two of them. Oh yes, there was another of them after the climb out of that valley. This time though, the sun had set, and the road was even less cared for. With such unforeseen delays, I was beginning to think that I would run out of my 11 hours drive time before I arrived at my planned destination. I began composing a letter that began “Dear Canada, Fuck you, and your roads.”

      But now I'm here in Hope. Still unwashed, but at least happy and relaxed. I could tell you about the descent into British Columbia and the trip form the border to Kamloops, but that part bored me really. That's not true. More accurate, it paled in comparison to what just came before. Edit: I cut out the next few bits to further refine what I want to say. They will appear in a following post.

Teachable moments

Friday, November 18^th, 2011

      I'm trying to be a better person. Aren't we all? Maybe not everyone, but I think we all are on some level. Then again, I'm an optimist. Life has a way of presenting you with what you need to accomplish your goals. “So you want to be a better person,” life begs of us, “then let me help you with some tests.” Funny thing is, is that life gives you the tests first then the lessons after. I recall reading that somewhere, but I found the practical application today.

      Oh Canada, you are such a wonderful mixed bag of blessings. Some blessings are immediately recognized as such. For example, yesterday, I was feeling nasty. Like the, “I think I had a shower a few days ago, but I'm not sure which day,” kind of nasty. It happens a lot in trucking. You figure, “Hey. I had one yesterday, and I don't feel dirty.” Then the days fly by under deadlines and running like crazy to get somewhere for an arbitrary appointment time. I know the hideous details, but I'll spare them from myself. So there I am feeling grody at the Flying J truckstop. I've fueled recently, so I should have a couple showers coming. Wrong! Turns out that they don't load them for a day or two. I walk out dejected, figuring that one more day will be alright. In the parking lot, I happen to meet the driver I helped out at the fuel island earlier. We say hi to each other then I mention my disappointment in the shower situation. He says, “you can have one of my showers, eh?” (of course he's Canadian. I'm in Canada). To that I can only say “thank you,” and “best shower ever!”

      In the same vein of being tested and learning lessons, I am making an effort to be more patient with the world around me. In addition, I am working on noticing the gap between a stimulus and my response. It is said that self observation is what sets us apart form the other animals, so I'm taking the time to use that faculty. In some instances, like when a car zooms right by me, I have been able to monitor the thought, “That car is coming up really fast.” A few times today, i noticed the immediate response, “That guy's a dick.” Other times, I would notice the thought, then decide that no response was needed other than observation for my own safety. It is a fascinating process to watch for me, as I have a unique perspective. In many ways, I feel removed from the world around me by virtue of the truck. I sit higher than most vehicles, I take a lot longer to stop, I can see farther ahead, and the climate control is amazing in these things. I feel that I have to take responsibility for the oftentimes irresponsible actions of others (cut me off again you bastard, and I'll cut your heart out!) for the sake of my life and present income. So maybe I'm over-exaggerating the road rage a bit for effect, but I am now becoming aware of how hasty I am to criticize. Granted, I believe I can drive better than lots of people, but then again, something like 80% of drivers believe they are better than average drivers, which is technically impossible. Regardless of semantics, I am a professional driver, and that means I have to be patient with the other people on the road. My intention is to catch myself criticizing others and stop that habit. What do I need to prove to myself?

      Another test came today here in Calgary. First of all, I haven't seen a temperature above 1*F today; most of the day it was 0*, dipping down a couple times to -2*F. I don't want to go outside, and I am reacting in a negative manner towards this uncontrollable situation. Then to top it all off, I get directions that are neither wrong, nor are they quite right. The name of the trailer repair shop had changed over a year ago, and I'm looking for the old name. The directions were correct, but I didn't see the sign I was looking for. I was instructed to search for “Lion's Gate trailer repair,” and it turns out that they are now “Trailer Wizards.” Hehehe. They even have a map of Canada on a flat-screen with little wizard hats demarcating their locations across The Great White North. Which reminds me... I also saw a “Knight” heating company today. I'm sure a dragon will manifest in some form other than myself. I digress. For me, there is nothing more frustrating than being lost in a big truck. Thankfully, I had a map of Calgary on my person with which to navigate the morass of the SE industrial sector. Boy, is it a clusterf*ck. I observed as my frustration levels soared. I watched as I grew impatient with the traffic and people driving sensibly on the snow covered roads. While I was watching this, I could feel the life draining out of me. Fascinating to see! It took a bathroom break and some food to snap me out of it completely, and here I am now, reflecting on it all.

      The lessons I'm taking away from all of this are:

1) I'm done with Canada. It is said that life begins at the end of your comfort zone, but I know I want something different.

2)By monitoring the gap between stimulus and reaction, you can noticeably lengthen the gap between the two. This in turn, gives you the chance to decide your response.

3) I need not be in such a hurry that I forget to eat or take care of my body. This will take some time for me to really assimilate.

4) Every experience is a teachable moment, if you see it as such.

and finally: 

5) I can feel my emotions, but I can also watch them, which lessens their strength. This cuts both ways, so I will use it judiciously.

How do they do it?

Thursday, November 17^th, 2011

      Today I am spending the night in Edmonton, AB. It is cold. Damn cold. The low tonight is going to get down to -23*C which is -9.4*F. It is mid November. I've just driven into snowstorm number two for the season, and I have decided that winter this early is a bit too early. I suppose I could drive to a truck stop, but they are all on the far Northeast end of the city, and I mean far. We're talking about a good hour drive in this weather, 45 minutes in good conditions. So yeah, screw that. I'm better off just hanging out here and waiting the 15 hours until they can possibly take me. Wow. I must be friggin' nuts or something. On the upside, there is no temptations to spend money on tasty and fatty truck stop food, or internet for that matter. There are bathrooms at such places though and coffee. But I have all I need barring a toilet, which I've seen on a truck before. Kinda stinky and no thanks.

      Between the crazy cold and the rough day yesterday, I'm going to have to go ahead and say that I do not want anything to do with trucking in Canada. Put more positively, I'm finished trucking in foreign countries. I figure if I say that I won;t go to Mexico either. Truth be told, I didn't want into the Canada fleet to begin with. I was fairly sure that Canada in winter would suck, and here I am, right. Ok, it does not suck. It just isn't for me. Or a bunch of Canadians either. I saw 5 accidents between Red Deer and Edmonton. Five. These are people that all live here. How safe does that make me feel?

      Conversely, I did see a guy haul three trailers (triples) pass me on AB 2. Good for him. I'm impressed by his driving prowess. Perhaps in another life time or in a parallel Universe I could aspire to such feats of truckin'. But I'm here now, and this is just a means to an end. No more, no less. (three shall be the number of the counting and the number of the counting shall be three...) So yeah. Fact of the matter is that I do not need to do this, but I am choosing to do this, so I figure that I should do it on my own terms, which leads me to consider options.

      I could go back to Swift, my old company. I know where all the terminals are, I know a good portion of the customers, and I know how the computers operate. The only potential downside would be to get a truck that I can not stand up in. For the most part, they treat you well enough. They tend to run all over the U.S. which is nice when you can get into places like Texas and Louisiana eh winter. Sure the trucks are governed at 62, but no big deal. I'd normally bet set at 60 here. Another bit of a bummer for that option is the lack of A.P.U's . No auxiliary power units to charge up my batteries with and for a.c. in the summer. The pay is about what I am making here so that bit is a wash.

      Another prospect is going back to Schneider (no relation). They've been blowing up my inbox to drive team for them. At this point I am beginning to consider that as a possibility. As a team we'd be driving something stupid like 6,000 miles a week. Teams will usually earn $0.42 per mile split (or .21 per mile each) and that works out to some serious money (1260 ish a week). Schneider is now doing electronic logs, but for a team that wouldn't matter so much. You'd always be rolling (except to use the bathroom and shower). The obvious downside to this is that you would be a team. , working with someone else in a very small space. That may be tricky. The best part about this prospect is that Schneider would find you a partner. So who knows how that would work out. Maybe really well. And I could earn what I felt like I need like... almost twice as fast.

      The other option I'm considering at this point (I know there are so very many... I am blessed with great liberty to choose) is to stay with this company but get off the Canadian fleet. The upside to this is fairly simple, I don;t have to move out of my truck. Sweet. Inertia! I've been developing a good relationship with my DM, and he's quite helpful. I like the family feel of it all. Should I go this route, I'm fairly certain that I'd be driving the I-5 corridor all day long. In and of itself, that is not a bad thing. That mountain just south of Ashland, Oregon might be a bit ugly in the winter though. Despite that, there seem to be a number of convenient drop yards scattered about the northwest, which is a bonus.

      I just got back from a walk down to the music store. Awesome! I played a bit of “Dust in the Wind,” for myself, strummed a bit on a banjo and browsed the lessons section. When I say “a” banjo, I mean “the” banjo. For the amazing number of guitars, both acoustic, but mainly electric, there was only a single banjo. It was quit lovely, and had a great tone. It also cost $829. No thanks. I'm not into dropping that kind of money yet. Especially when I can get a complete starting kit for $189. While I understand that I am worth the expense, it doesn't fit in with my current spending plan. For a second, I thought I saw another banjo, but I was mistaken, for it was a banjitar, a hideous chimera of cross-breeding, mocking me with its deceptive appearance. I hung it right back up. It just screams “I am too lazy to learn two instruments,” in my ears. Maybe next time I encounter one, I will give it a chance and pick out a bit of “Dust in the Wind” on that one. Even mutants need love, right?

So maybe I was a bit upset...

Tuesday, November 16^th, 2011

      Dork-tastic! I found this font that is named after the town I grew up in. Who knew Open Office was so in touch with the liberal red-necky types? So, I am now choosing to write as if there were no audience, more of a true journal format. I expect things will become a bit less prosaic, and perhaps more jumbled, although still in the German romantic style of rambling sentences. Perhaps now and then the mood for flowery language will strike me, as it did after driving through the Gorge, but I will not force it upon the writing. I will, however, make an effort to maintain some standards, like paragraph structure and punctuation. Away we go!

      Made some excellent time today. The morning went rather swimmingly, and I'm really enjoying this truck being set to 65. Well, at least I was for most of the day, but that part can wait. I got a chance to add some of this anti-gel into the tanks today before filling up. That was exciting... it reads on the can, “so concentrated we had to can it.” Translation: so caustic it will melt through ordinary plastic. I am grateful that I now have some tools on board, since these cans have a metal seal that you need to punch through to open. Yes, it is THAT concentrated. I also added a gallon of motor oil today, as it was reading below the add line this morning. Where the hell it all went to is beyond me. There are no spots under my truck in the morning... maybe there's some engine beast that devours oil.

       That reminds me of the other day when I got so upset in Clackamas. The guy was saying that “there are microbes that digest oil, so it has to be natural. How many times in all those millions of years do you think oil just happened to spill into the ocean?” I pointed out that the ones used for the BP spill were genetically engineered. He then asked what happened to all the other oil that spilled, to which I replay, “it denatures in sunlight and the environment.” We can all see where this is going, so maybe somehow my engine is designed to eat denatured oil. That's all I can figure out. That whole experience leads me to believe that people will only hear what they want to believe is true, which includes myself as well.

      The big event of the day, however, was getting pulled onto the scale just across the border. I weighed just fine, it is just that there is this thing called a “bridge law,” which has nothing to do with bridges oddly enough. It has to do with how far your trailer tires are apart from each other. Apparently, mine were too far forward. I thought to myself, “Seriously? This has got to be some kind of joke.” Apparently, in B.C. there can be no more than 35% of the trailer hanging over the center of the rear tandems. But that center cannot be longer than 41'. I shall now dub B.C. as the “baby bear” state for this “just right” b.s. and the crying they do about it. OK, perhaps I'm a bit upset about getting a $115 fine for that. Wait, excuse me... $100 fine and $15 “victim surcharge levy.” What the hell is that? The victim gets charged 15%? Who is the victim here? I fail to understand how having my tandems too far forward jeopardized life and limb.

      So after pulling me aside to ticket me, they decided to do an inspection. Since I was so nice, it was only a level 2 inspection, which does not involve measuring the brake pads. It has been such a long time since I did one, I kinda forgot what I was doing and got as bit flustered. In the end, my tractor was just fine, but the officers found a violation on my trailer. It is alleged that I have a cracked plate above the 5^th axle. I checked for that on my post trip but couldn't find any cracks. I wonder what they were talking about? That said, I have to have it fixed before my next dispatch (i.e. before I leave Canada; most likely in Calgary).

      I have learned today how impatient I can be. I am in such a hurry that I could, in theory, deliver an entire DAY early. I was passing cars as fast as i could, and getting upset when people got in my way. Good gravy! I didn't realize how hard I pushed myself and others. It seems to come out when I have a goal in mind, which can be a good thing in some instances. For now, I have attributed this sudden rush to the fact that I can go 65 mph now instead of 60. I noticed that at 60, I don't really care about going fast. But at 65... get the f*ck out of my way! The very notion that one can get their average speed that much closer to 60 by standing on the fuel pedal is causing me stress I do not need. So I now set my cruise control at 63 mph. I was going too fast down the hills at 65 and had to keep turning the cruise off, then reset it again. logically, I shouldn't have kept it on, but my foot was getting tired of driving so much. (I know right? Pansy. lol) So I no longer have a fire under my ass, for which I'm thankful. I think I'll meditate for a while too.

The Real Deal

Tuesday, November 15^th, 2011

      Today, for the first time since I've picked it back up, I feel like I'm driving trucks. Of course I've been driving on occasion, and other times not driving as breakdowns and rides occur. I've spent time in hotels (which is rarer than has happened to me thus far), and done all my pre-trip inspections. There were two things lacking, both of which happened today.

      To date, all of my loads have been short little jumps. Each preceding trip has been less than 500 miles, easily accomplished in the space of a day or an overnight. Turns out, that this is where the future of truck freight is going, towards more local hops. Gone are the days of ginormous hauls across the entire country. That's if you are a solo driver. Team drivers, on the other hand, get to deliver all sorts of things that need to arrive sooner than by train, like cigarettes, any drugs with pseudophedrine, and probably explosives I imagine. The first two I know for sure. As I mentioned, the train is certainly eating into the trucking experience, for no reason greater than fuel economy. If you've ever listened to a segment of NPR sponsored by CSX (the Chesapeake System for those who did NOT have trains as a kid like me) there is the tagline “moving 1 ton of freight 450 miles on 1 gallon of fuel”. I mean, dude. That would be face-meltingly awesome if our trucks got that kind of mileage, or even our cars. I suppose it has something to do with the economics of scale really. Back to the point, I finally got dispatched on a load today that delivers on Friday. At 0400 MST, but hey... it's not tomorrow... or even Thursday! For me this means that I don't need to deal with any kind of stuff other than my routine computer work. I can lay aside bothering my driver manager with phone calls because the onboard satellite went down today (it did). I can refrain from asking for more changes, since it looks all good (it didn't). Barring a disaster, I won't have to speak with him until Friday at the soonest, just before taking my home time at the latest. Imagine what it would be like if you didn't have to deal with your boss checking in on you for 3 whole days. To be fair, I check in on him. He usually doesn't say much and is a really cool guy, but that's beside the point. I'm free from The Man! (or at least temporarily on parole).

      Speaking of convicts, the other event was that I got to go into the shop today. No big deal, nothing broken. I was just missing some gator caps (also known as flow-through caps for the tire savvy) and wanted to pick up some diesel anti-gel fluid. I'm going to Canada again, Edmonton, AB this time and it is already way too cold for my taste up there. So, I go into the shop asking for this stuff, but I did not remember my mileage. The thing with company truck shops is, if you need ANY part... even those 35 cent gator caps... you've got to have your exact mileage and truck number at the parts desk. The fluid was free, so that's cool. Free from needing mileage, but since I was already there it was a moot point. Coming back after getting my mileage, both “parts guys” (is there some name for this job that I don't know about?) were on the phones. I waited patiently as the two guys behind the desk, and one other mechanic, on my side of the desk were shootin' the breeze. The older guy behind the desk asked the younger one if he called so-and-so. He didn't so Dan (older guy) called Bob and proceeded to give him some shit. If you've ever worked in a garage or other blue collar skilled trade, you'll understand that this is benign, akin to a roast. It may also be known as “busting someone's chops,” or “breakin' their balls,” to use the more colorful vernacular. Chances are if you are reading this then, yes, you understand. I couldn't help but thinking to myself that I'd almost rather be there working in the shop than driving to Edmonton. I certainly enjoy a close knit working group. Then again, maybe it is time to grow out of that kind of humor, where fun is had giving someone else some shit.

      It is nice to be on the road again. I didn't realize how much I missed that feeling. I'm fairly sure that the next load will bring me back into the States, because there's nothing up there to haul except bales of paper back State-side. Chances are that I'll probably bounce around on some more short runs because home time is coming up soon (next week!) I still hope to get some longer hauls in when I can, and if I can't then I may end up changing companies. More on that another time.

Trials and tribulations

Monday, November 14^th, 2011

      Ah, a long day behind the wheel again. Rising at 0230, just finishing up now at 1800. After a long day of driving, I am sitting in the driver's lounge of the Clackamas terminal, listening to truck drivers discuss the nation's problems and their cures. * face-palm * Everybody knows everything about every thing. This is a great chance for me to practice equanimity! Which, ultimately I failed in. I had to leave the room, because my beliefs were challenged so much. I felt that I took a big step the other day in visiting the ministry, but there's nothing like feeling alone and isolated in your beliefs about the world. Excuse me, I need to cry for a moment.

      Starting again here. This morning went fairly well. I delivered on time in Spokane, and got unloaded quickly. Not having anything immediate to do, I went and hung out at a nice little truck stop right in town. This place used to have free wi-fi, but has since been bought out by Pilot Corp, and they make sure they get their money. That was a bit of a surprise, but not a big deal. So I sat around waiting for a load, wasting my own time. (more about that to come!) Sometime around 0645 I get a load consigned to Halsey, OR. A heavy load, it is all shredded documents to be recycled, about 22 tons worth probably baled up. Knowing that time will be tight, I motor to the drop yard... zoom!

      Perfect! I dropped my empty right next to the one I am to pick up without even knowing! Man, life is good! I hook up to the loaded trailer, check all the tires, then hop back into the cab. Gonna have to scale it to be sure, and time is going to be tight! Then I go to enter stuff into the qualcomm, and I notice I have 2 new messages. Both messages have to do with a “hot” pre-plan. Generally speaking, having something be “hot” in this line of work means that somewhere along the line, a ball was dropped and they need someone to fix the f*ck up. Now, I was already jazzed for going to Halsey, why I don't know, and I was fairly upset about getting this new load assignment. In the end, I took it but informed them that I will not change loads mid stride again. It was a good lesson in releasing anger, but I'll never get that 45 minutes of my life spent driving to the drop yard, dropping and hooking trailers, back.

      After contemplating for a moment, it occurred to me that I absolutely love the challenge of delivering on time in tight situations. I like proving to myself that I can do some crazy feat of endurance on a tight schedule. Today, I drove straight from Lewiston, ID to Clackamas, OR without stopping once. Not to pee, nor to eat. I just kept going. I made it with 7 minutes to spare, which is as good as none when your job runs in 15 minute increments. I made it despite the Portland rush hour traffic, which is really gratifying for me. I made it! That said, having that extra 45 minutes from before would certainly have made the trip easier.

      Which brings me to my next point. I do not like it when people waste my time. I do my best not to waste other peoples' time, so don't waste mine. “My time is precious.” That got me to thinking. What makes my time so precious? Is it because I have such a small amount of it in this meaty vessel I call a body? Is it because I could be doing any other number of fun things, like playing solitaire or mahjong on my computer? Or perhaps bettering myself in some capacity, like meditating? Just proclaiming to myself that my time is precious made me think long and hard about how I spend my one life. While there may be reincarnation, ( I think so) there is only just Now in this life.

I know that what I'm doing right now is simply a means to an end, a proverbial stepping stone. A 35,000 pound stepping stone that doesn't look good in a lake, but a step none-the-less. I do not plan to be surrounded by this life style forever, nor the people and accoutrements that come with it. I am aiming to transcend this level of living for something much higher. At least that is the aim, and I can already see and feel it.

I found Jesus!

Sunday, November 13^th, 2011

      Jesus Saves! I'm not sure how many of you are aware of that. I found Jesus today in the Truck Stop Ministries. Every Sunday, one can find these makeshift chapels set up at truck stops across the nation (hence the name). From now on, I'll be singing the praises of our Lord Jesus Christ; they were kind enough to give me a Bible (with a capital “B”!) and some hymns to sing when I get lonely out here. I will be going to sermons every Sunday whenever possible and spread the word of God to all I encounter. My soul has been saved!

      Yeah, just kidding. I'll probably adhere more to Taoism and Buddhism thank you very much. Still, for all of that, I did sit in on a sermon, and there was a fairly ecstatic believer (named Hutch) attending today. There was this other guy Steve, myself, a guy from south Asia (presumably Indian, but he left after the songs) and the two gentlemen preaching the sermon. One of the “preachers” whose name eludes me, played guitar and sang all sorts of Jesus themed songs to open the session. Are they called sermons? Anyway, there were three songs . Then came the sermon. It endured for about an hour, and the preacher, named Josh was a fairly steadfast believer in what he was saying. He ended the sermon with a podcast featuring some firebrand preacher, going on about the King of Kings, which was quite entertaining. That's the nuts and bolts of the experience, but I came away with some insights which may be more relevant.

      The first major insight I found was simply noticing how resistant I was to the whole experience. I certainly did not want to sing along. Or share my toys. Simply noticing my resistance I became aware of how rigid I can be in defining who I am as a person. Granted, we will always have our own ideas of who we are as people, but I'm talking about the labels we apply to ourselves. Just because I prefer Eastern traditions does not mean that I need to shut myself off to a Western experience that may yield nuggets of wisdom, like this experience did. So for all intensive purposes, I dropped my guard and joined in, figuring, “what the hell. Immersion into a foreign culture is a good way to flow with the situation.”

      The second insight had to do with what Josh was preaching. I want to say Deuteronomy 17. Something about people asking for things and getting them. this simply reinforced a belief I've already had about the Universe being gracious and giving in general and leaving humans to experience the consequences of what we ask for. That will always hold true, across all religious traditions.

      Thirdly, it helped remind me that while the Universe will provide all we ask for, we have to believe that it will be so, and send our energies out into the world. This, tied in with Fabio's latest blog entry http://kundalinisurge.blogspot.com/2011/11/4-of-pentacles.html spoke of financial means. Essentially, we have to give with sincerity and belief knowing that it will come back to us many fold. This is true for all forms of energy, money, love, other emotions and so forth (I'm hard pressed to think of other energy forms right now).

      Apart form the insights, I did get a chance to speak with Josh about why he does this and what he believes. He is a public defender, and spends lots of time defending people who keep ending up in trouble. Right on. We certainly need someone to be compassionate and helpful to people who keep f*cking up. When asked why he preaches at this truck stop he went on to say that he was a bit of a rebel, and disliked authority of the church. Go figure.

      Far and away, the most lol-worthy/disturbing nugget from this whole undercover operation was his views of the future. In Deuteronomy 17, the bible lays down the laws for having kings. simple laws like do not multiply your horses, do not have more than one wife, do not multiply your gold and silver and write down the word of law. Simple enough. So Josh gets into this whole thing a bit deeper, and asks why god suggested we stick to only 1 wife, and the obvious answer is that it creates a sh*t storm of politics. As a ruler, you cannot manage a kingdom in an enlightened way when you've got all this other stuff distracting you. Fair enough. Bringing it somewhat to the present day, I asked him if he advocated 1 party rule. He responded saying that there will be a one party rule, a theocracy with Jesus at the fore, and his reign shall last 1000 years.

      My jaw dropped a little at that statement. He earnestly believes this, which of course he's entitled to. Perhaps my skepticism comes from the experience of all past theocracies, which involved persecuting of heretics. Or maybe it comes from the one party rule idea. Communism seems to work well for China, right? ( http://ejw.thisweekinblackness.com/blog/2011/11/13/bachmann-china/ ) While the fine details of one party rule and theocracy leave a bit of a bad taste in my mouth, I may be willing to consider what the world would be like if everyone lived as a buddha or with a christ consciousness. There would be peace, we'd all organize for the greater good, there would be healing for all who need it. Yeah, that would be cool, so long as nobody tried to tell me what was what.

     Overall, this adventure has taught me that I can be open to other view points without embracing them. I can learn to see the divine in everyday life. I will get what I ask for, so long as I know it to be true. Starting with the desired end in mind, I can co-create reality... but only with some help.