Sunday, November 20th, 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.
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