Taking a leave of absence and the little bits beforehand

Monday, December 19^th, 2011

In honor of this festive time of year, I will be taking a respite from the blog during the holidays. I'm doing this, not to honor any particular tradition, rather because I am taking a break from driving for a bit. I will be switching companies so that necessitates another orientation, which is not really driving. Should events change, there will be an update, but not likely.

      I woke up confused face down and partly drooling. Par for the course I suppose. A lot of things happening. I had to get the windshield replaced, and get my ECM reflashed. Sounds technical I suppose, but what it really means is that my on-board computer needed an update. So I get myself dressed and walk over to the shop. I talk to El Dude-a-rino about the whole situation. He informs me that this will be an all day event, and that they will come to collect my truck after he makes some phone calls. Total bummer. I'm still under the impression that it would be a quick fix, and that I would be taking my home time in Pacific, Washington today.

      So I go back to my truck and fix me some breakfast. No rush, right? they'll come over and get the truck and take all day, so I'm just going to enjoy the oatmeal. Then this glass replacement guy comes driving into the yard. I wonder if he's looking for my truck, since it has this crater in the driver's side windshield that the shop said they would take care of but hadn't yet for some reason. Not much suspense here, but of course he's looking for my truck. A friendly chap with tattered pants rugged from many long days of working with glass. I help him pop the hood since it is a bit tricky, and he gets to work. Sometime during the whole process, another driver comes walking by. When I say “sometime during the process,” I mean the exact moment he is taking the new glass out of his van with those cool suction thingies and getting ready to set it into the now gaping hole that my face would sit behind were I driving. Back to the truck driver. He comes walking by and says, of all things, “Don't break it,” to the young man replacing the glass. The young man responds, “I won't.” To his credit, of course he didn't. He wouldn't be doing that job very long if he broke the replacement windshields all of the time would he?

      Later, as he is finishing up, I get out of my truck. I walk over to him at a slow mosey. “Hey buddy. Has there been a single day in which some smart assed driver hasn't said 'Don't break that?'”

He just kinda looks at me, rolls his eyes back to the recall position (top right) and droops his head. “No.” At least he smiled about it all.

      Then back to the shop where they see that the windshield guy has finished and they then call the Freightliner dealership to see if it is ok for me to bring the truck, which it is. Awesome! Totally get a much better turn around time if I take the truck over. Which I do. Simple drive, a fairly uneventful 25 minutes. I sit in the lounge waiting for them to do what was supposed to be a 45 minute job. Well, I have no idea how long it took, since I spaced out and they guy in the lounge next to me was watching some manly drama show on TV. American Choppers, I believe. A show about two grown men being all dramatic, angry and emotional, (or childish) but it is ok since they build motorcycles. It is essentially a macho soap-opera. 

 

      At some point, I decide to get up and go see what the hell is going on. It feels like it has been a while, and I want answers. As I walk into the office, I see that the service desk dude is on the phone. That's cool. I'm patient like that. Turns out he was on the phone to my company, telling them that my truck was finished and just checking to make sure that they could release it to me. Intuition at it's finest. Then off to get myself home after some minor snafus with communication that don;t bear mentioning really. Just glad to be done.

Bumbling in the dark, looking for coffee

Sunday, December 18^th, 2011

      I awoke at 0200 PST on the side of the road. I wasn't in a ditch or anything, I parked in a turnout. I really enjoy waking up so early. The world is so peaceful. I stood outside of the truck, making sure that the APU was turned off. The silence washed over me, disturbed only by the wind. Clouds blew over slowly, and the trickle of water accompanying the silent nocturne. It was surprisingly warm for this time of year, almost 40*F. Snow was slowly melting all around me, and I bathed in the primal wonder.

      I took some of this snow and wiped the road grime off my headlights, then dried them with a paper towel, ready to roll. a mere 45 minutes later, I was at the border, waiting for a guard to come out and give the green light to take my papers. I handed over my passport and manifest, then waited patiently with my debit card to pay the crossing fee of $10.75. He handed my passport back with no questions asked and sent me on my way. Easiest border crossing ever. This is why it is best to cross under the cover of darkness at 0300. Everyone is tired and nobody gives a shit. Unless you look like a terrorist. Then I believe many shits are given.

      Driving through Idaho at way too early in the morning, I realized that I had made and kept a promise to myself. I felt a reward was in order, so I went about hunting for a place to sell me a cup of coffee. The truck stop in Bonner's Ferry was closed, so no dice there. I could only think of how much money they would make if they were open all night. Then I re-thought that they probably tried that already and didn't come out in the black.

      The next town is Sandpoint, Idaho. It seems like a pretty cool place. Very pedestrian friendly, bordering a huge lake in the mountains. I was here once before to pick up about 40,000 douche bags. Seriously. Summer's Eve has a facility here. Or Massengil, I forget which brand of douches they made but it still makes for a funny sentence. For as long as I can remember, they've been working on a bridge to bypass the town. As it stands currently, all traffic is routed through the downtown itself, making for lots of turns and chances to stop for a lolly gagging foot goer. At night however, there are no people on the streets. All the lights go your way, and upon exiting town, the bypass bridge is underlit by a large number of blue fluorescent blubs, making for a really neat effect. I suppose if you have this huge bridge running right along a scenic down town with lovely views, one may as well make it fun and enjoyable to look at, which it is.

      Sometime down the line I found me some coffee at a gas station that also sold truck diesel. Inside was a police officer just waiting for his shift to end, shooting the breeze with the dude at the counter. I got into a bit of a conversation with them, for I could tell that they were kinda lonely, being on a completely different clock than the rest of decent society. I'm pretty used to that, although I miss the idea of being someplace and feeling grounded time and again. Again I was off into the night.

      Sometime after Spokane and Ritzville, the sun started to rise. I was a bit astounded that I had already went some 300 miles before day break (i forget exactly how much but it was a lot) and that I had already come as far as I had. Driving in the dark will do that to you I suppose. One loses all bearings and sense of time when nothing really changes. The lines on the road all look the same after a while.

      My next stop saw me in Biggs Junction, Oregon. This is where US 95 and I-84 meet, in the eastern Columbia Gorge, which has not been deemed pretty enough to be included in the National Scenic area, but don't let that fool you. It is still quite grand. I took a free shower here and bought some uncensored internet, at which time I posted the preceding days' blogs and surfed around a while. For a few hours, I hemmed and hawed about moving on with the hours I had left. There were many arguments for each position and I was paralyzed by indecision. Sadly, this is a fairly common occurrence for me. I got an outside opinion (thanks Jen! <3 ) which actually helped me sort out the situation. In the end though, I felt that I would not be living up to who I wanted to be if I stayed there and tried to manipulate the circumstances. It is my intention to be excellent in all things that I do, but work comes the easiest for me. I just need to translate that into other areas of my life.

      So I find my way to the Clackamas terminal. I put my truck in for a warranty inspection, which they missed at my last service. I wait for it to go in at 1800. Played some banjo, surfed the limited internet (no blogs, videos, downloads or games, or social networking sites... found a work around for FB though) and ate some boxed Indian food for dinner. Hooray for microwaves! Seeing as I've been up since 0200 this morning, I went in to check on my truck. I was pretty tired by 2200, and the truck was still being worked on. So back inside I go. Laundry has been done, not much else to do and fingers are starting to hurt. 2300 rolls around. Another 15 minutes and they'll be done. I go back inside and proceed to nap on the floor of the exercise room. 0000 comes. I'm almost deliriously tired at this point when I learn that my truck will need to go into a Freightliner dealership to get the computer updated. They say another 15 minutes. Knowing better, I go back inside and half sleep on one of the two recliners in the lounge.

Finally! the truck is finished. I climb in, park in the lot, and I'm out in a matter of seconds.

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Science!

Saturday, December 17^th, 2011

      Another day on the road, another 500 miles behind me. TO be honest, it was 548 today, but in general, 500 a day is a good day. With each passing day comes myriad opportunities, from wildlife viewing (not all of it living) to meteorology, sociology, a basic geology and sometimes, chaos theory. Science abounds in everyday life. I find curiosity solves a lot of life's little vexations.

      In the wildlife realm of things, I've had a fairly good streak of late. I awoke this morning at 0200 PST to prepare for my delivery. I was parked right in back of the store, so getting ready essentially meant throwing some oatmeal together, getting dressed and taking those 2 steps to the drivers seat and driving all of 150 yards around a corner. Tough gig, I know. To my surprise, there was a freakin' HUGE snowshoe hare just across the street munching on what little grass was left. We're talking the size of an enormous cat of small dog, huge. Or maybe it was all that fur, which was white all over save for the tips of the ears and feet. Absolutely adorable! Getting out to walk around my truck, a large bird swooped down into the field near the Costco. I can only speculate that it was some kind of owl, for it was too dark over there to identify it. Other sightings today included a dead fox and a dead coyote, plus myriad corvids and a bunch of magpies. Neat!

      As far as weather goes, there was little to report, save a brilliant sunset, and equally brilliant sunrise. The sunset was by far the more breathtaking, wave upon wave of cloud rippled from pink to apricot across the western sky.

      The biggest chance for study is the human mind and it's collective stupidity.. err collective thinking. There was a crash along the highway today on the southbound side some place in Calgary. Big City. Stuff like this happens a lot I would imagine. So of course one lane is blocked off for the care bears and other emergency vehicles, leaving two others with which to bypass the scene. Chaos theory comes into play here, since we are dealing with tons of people trying to cram through a tiny bottleneck. Watching people merge left and right as far back as a mile, since nobody had any idea what lane the crash was in. I personally grabbed the middle lane, since I could only be one lane off in either direction, and it was moving faster. Practical above all else I suppose. Upon reaching the scene, we were down to one lane, the far left. After all the merging was done (thanks to some kind people with lots of patience) everyone was obliged to drive by the accident. That is to say that everyone got to drive by really slow and look at the severe damage to the car that rear-ended somebody or drove into the off ramp divider, it was unclear. We call this rubber-necking. Even more curious to me was the north bound side slowed down just as much as we did (about 15k/ph) to see the accident. Traffic was unimpeded on that side. What is it about humans that wish to see such tragedy? Is it our innate desire to be glad that it happened to someone else? Or perhaps a reassurance that the negative energy for the day has found an outlet in (again) some one else. Maybe a simple reminder to drive safe and stop being a douche.

      Which brings me to my personal test of getting cut off. After yesterday, you'd think I would have learned my lesson. A slow moving truck pulled out in front of me, and thankfully i got to pass him after 45 minutes. Still, I could feel the frustration rising. Then I finally let go of it. What a relief. The biggest help was realizing that this guy was trying to do the best he could, and that I was obviously lighter than he was and I would have a chance to pass him at some point. Simple but effective. I wonder how far across the board of human thought that such a notion could be extrapolated.... Maybe not too far. I've found that most people focus on what is in front of them, and seldom much further down the road (heh).

      In other news, I have learned that there has been some confusion about my home time. My understanding was that I had changed it with my DM from the 26^th of December to the 19^th of December. Either way, I am supposed to be out and running over Christmas. So I was a bit shocked to learn that my original request for the 26^th is still in the system. I was a bit upset about this at first, then I realized that there would be nothing I could do about it until Monday when my DM gets back in the office. Actually, the best thing I can do is to run this load as fast (and as safe) as I can to Portland, OR and hope that I can work this out on Monday and get a load up to Seattle, which should work. We'll see I guess. Until then, I'm going to run like its my job, because it is.

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Best bad experience ever

Friday, December 16^th, 2011

 

     It ended in tears. It could have ended with bloodshed or a visit to the dentist, but it went otherwise. I never thought I'd say that being threatened with violence would be the best thing that happened to me in a day.

      Driving North on AB 2, it takes about four and a half hours from Nanton to Edmonton. The drive is mostly flat, but decorated with a few inclines of varying grades. There is also the sprawling city of Calgary in between, but nothing of note happened there. Some two and a half hours into the trip, I can tell that I'll be needing to use the restroom soon. Even better, I'll be able to take a shower at the Flying J in Red Deer, AB. I know they have showers there, but I have no idea if they have showers at my Flying J fuel stop in Nisku, AB. So I press on, bladder filling a bit more all the while.

     I could have stopped some where along the way at one of the roadside pullouts, but my jug was full and it made no sense to stop twice in such a short span. After all, Exit 401 is only 41km away. I can wait 25 minutes.

      Cruising along at speed, I find myself at exit 396, almost there, when a truck pulls out onto the freeway in front of me. Now for some reason, this guy is going about 16 kph under the speed limit, which is 110 kph. Seeing that my bladder is full, I start growing restless at the delay, even to the point of being upset. I realize somewhere in the back of my mind that this is my own doing, but that is way in the back. Occupying the main stage of my brain is, “why the fuck is this guy going so slow! I have to pee!” I could have pulled around him were it not for the incredible amount of traffic; but then again, I would only have to cut him off as he was getting off at the next exit.

      Exiting the highway, he is going WAY below a speed that any sane trucker would go. He turns off the ramp, in the direction I intend to go, then cuts me off with a sudden lane change at the last minute. I'm still a bit miffed about that. Then he drives into the Flying J at something like 10kp/h and I lose it. I drive around the fuel island, sliding on the ice as I turn. Parking my truck a few down from him, (it is a small lot) I get out to take a shower, thinking that I have nothing to say to this guy.

      Turns out that I did, and he started with apologizing for going so slow, since he was leaking air. I didn't want to hear that. I exclaimed with some degree of vexation that he had cut me off and almost took off my front end with that sudden lane change (which was a bit of an exaggeration on my part). He became defensive and said that I shouldn't have been there. I persisted saying something to the effect that his driving was irresponsible (because it was) and he then threatened to punch me in the mouth. “Same thing as me almost hitting your front end you little puke. Running your mouth like that. Stop your damn whining.” All the way into the truck stop. I was close to getting decked.

      As I entered my code in the driver's kiosk for a shower, it occurred to me. he was right. I had done nothing but complain about something that was beyond my control. I had forgotten about compassion. I had been storing up anger for the last two days from a source more or less unknown to me. It came out in a threat of violence.

      I took my shower quickly, for fear that he would slash my tires or something like that. I got out, and he was at the counter, buying something. I walked up to him and apologized. I truly felt really bad for not taking the time to be compassionate and think of his situation. I asked if there was anything I could do for him. The only thing he needed was someone to listen to him and his trouble. Which, ironically, is the very whining he said I was doing and that nobody wanted to hear. Still, he had something on his chest he needed to get off, and my listening to it resulted in our truce, and handshake.

      Heading back out to the truck, I had a good cry. I could feel the tension in my heart, leaving in sobs and tears. I will say that I still feel a bit left, but nothing near what I had been holding for these last few days. It is amazing how tension sneaks up on you. So I played some banjo and let out a few more tears afterward, expunging the bulk of the anger from my system. I'm sure it could have ended a lot worse.

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For a Friend

Thursday, December 15^th, 2011

      The other day, a friend of mine asked me if trucking was worth it. Given the relativity of this question, I responded to his query with a somewhat lengthy e-mail of my own. That being what it is, it gave me pause to consider that question for myself and my own life. Is it worth it? I suppose that it all depends on what you are willing to lose and what you will attempt to gain in the process.

      The losses are fairly simple. You lose connection with your support network, more so now than ever. The National Transportation Safety Board is making it a punishable offense to use a hand held cell phone in all states now, with a fine of up to $2750. Wish I was kidding about that. The NTSB also recommends that states ban the use of any electronic device, including MP3 players, blue-tooth headsets and cell phones at large. Right on. Talking on the phone while driving is the same as driving with a blood alcohol content of (I believe) .07; essentially you are drunk. So communication is limited to when you are stopped, cutting into your time to rest and eat and take care of your personal needs.

      You also lose your connection to your place. There are seasons, make no mistake, but they change so rapidly for a driver. In the course of a week, you can go from a snow storm to a dry 80 degrees. Spring loses all meaning when you drive south then back north a number of times. Summer just becomes a rainy mess all over the place. Winter just means that it snows sometimes, but it can still be green elsewhere. This really messed with my head for the first year or so of driving. the connection with your “home” should you choose to keep one (instead of living out of the truck) becomes intermittent at best, with a scant 4 days to enjoy the place you love and work so hard to maintain. Your bed becomes a distant memory, your significant other, a voice on the phone of a series of letters in a chat window.

      Some of the gains are more obvious than others. Money is the first one, so long as you earn it faster than you spend it. Having very few expenses helps quite a lot. Time to yourself is another plus if you are tired of having a micro managing boss over your shoulder. You get work related support that you need to complete the task. Seeing the country is a perk if you're into that. I'm doing my best to travel as many miles of all the U.S. interstates as I can, and I've got a few from start to finish; I-80, I-90, I-81, I-5, I-86 (which doesn't really count in my eyes), I-85, I-20, I-10, I-40, I-94, I-25, I-8, I-84, I-76 (both bits), I-68, I-71, I-30, I-44, I-65, I-87.... wow. There aren't many that I have missed. Good gravy. So yeah, travel.

      Then there are the perks that YOU bring to the party. You are free to live as you choose within the confines of your truck and company policies. For example, I am teaching myself banjo between driving shifts. I have also challenged myself to not spend a single dime during this run in Canada; I am building my integrity. You are in control of who you are free from direct outside influence. You may talk with people from time to time, but ultimately they are so removed from the day to day experience that you can make your own choices.

      Perhaps the hardest lesson of them all, but perhaps the most valuable, is that you have to keep your own company. This is emphasized by the fairly simple yet repetitive nature of the task. There is fairly little to distract you, save any music you may bring. You learn to become your own source of emotional support. There's nobody else around, so you kinda have to. Granted, I know plenty of drivers who look for sympathy with their plight and whine and look for approval from others, but there will always be people who don;t want to be responsible for their lives. Responsibility for self is one of the big things this job teaches you if you haven't already learned it.

      Now, back to that banjo :)

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Vision, Charity and Opportunity

Wednesday, December 14^th, 2011

      Today has been a long day of trucking and related activities. Ergo, I've got a good bit on my mind from all of my adventures. The writer's conundrum lies in deciding which of these many things to write about, or to shun the idea of going into great depth about one thing, and choosing instead to write a little about many things, which may be more of a challenge to convey the feeling and meaning of the events that occurred. Let's stretch that comfort zone.

      Of the many things to love about this time of year, perhaps my favorite is the ceremonial lights. Since the days are getting darker and the sun is “dying” as the axis of our planet tilts away from our star's warmth, we comfort ourselves by festooning any number of surfaces with self contained miniature fires, often in varying colors. Perhaps if we put enough of these things up, the sun will come back and the evil spirits will retreat into the underworld from whence they came. Driving along the state highways, one gets more of a chance to see these primal displays, ranging from the simple to the atrociously complex. Perhaps the most spartan I saw today was a simple lamppost, adorned with a single stand of white lights, topped with a blue incandescent bulb. A Chanukah pole? Tasteful, simple and modestly festive, like having a glass of scotch on the rocks at a cocktail party. Then there are the monstrosities. One particular house along the route had the following: 2 luminescent plastic Santa Clause props, a set of reindeer (also lit internally), a few plastic candy cane cutouts stuck into the ground and bordered by blinking white lights, and several strands of multicolored christmas lights that blinked. It would have been something if these lights all followed the same pattern. This was My impression. *BLINK* .... *blink, blink* *blink blink blink blinkety blink* blink blink blink blink now in a clockwise pattern, BLINK FLASH BLINK BINK* Were I prone to epilepsy, I may have gone into a seizure. This kind of display is the equivalent to going to a Christmas party with your own bottle of rum, drinking it in one go, then continuing with the eggnog and gin. There is a lot of love there, but maybe a tad too much for my taste.

      In the same vein of Christmas time, giving is a wonderful aspect of the season. People open their hearts, which so often seem to be connected to their wallets in the name of other people. Charity is a bit more noble in that you are giving to people you'll never see, simply for the sake of sharing love across time and space. Driving down I-5 today, I told myself I wouldn't get any coffee. So I didn't. In spite of not having coffee, my bladder decided it needed to empty itself, so I pulled into a rest area, advertising free coffee. To be honest, I told myself I wouldn't PAY for coffee, for as decent as the coffee is at Pilot (truck stops) I had access to free coffee all over the place. So at this rest stop is a booth in which the Moose (club?) offers free coffee to bleary-eyed travelers. And cookies. I spent some time chatting with the lady and learned that the Moose (order of?) are more than just a bunch of people that hang out and drink beer like the Eagles. I learned that they make gift baskets for the needy, support orphanages, and other community services that elude me at present. I remember getting those gift baskets as a kid. Our family was destitute, and the baskets were quite a blessing. I could feel it in my heart, how needy people could be, and how hard it is to choose between seeing your kids happy and buying decent food, I was that kid once. I ended up leaving $20 lighter and with a lighter heart.

      Driving down the road again, probably I-5, I get a phone call. The number vaguely resembles my dispatcher's number (dispatcher/DM are interchangeable terms) so I take the call. Hands free of course, I obey all the laws of the land *ahem*. Turns out it is not my dispatcher, but some other dude calling himself Jesse. Right on. What the hell do you want? (I'm a bit more polite than to say such crude things to complete strangers) He wants to offer me a job. Doing what? Traveling and working with big companies in regard to solar, wind and high efficiency HVAC stuff. I didn't quite get the details, but I would either be 1) selling this stuff (awesome) or 2) repairing, installing, or maintaining this stuff (awesome x100!). I would get a company car, $300 a week traveling money (in cash), a cell phone, a laptop computer, a company credit card, keep all the frequent flier miles, leave on Mondays and be back on Thursdays, and make a bit more than I make driving trucks. My jaw nearly fell out of the truck. The only thing was that I had to be in the Raddison in Seattle tomorrow for an interview. This would be possible if I did a whole bunch of crazy things, but it turns out that I am not adequately prepared to receive this opportunity. I could buy some dress clothes in a hurry, book a flight out of the Tri-cities, or even take a bus. Reserve a room online, and so forth. At one point, I was telling myself that I needed more warning to prepare for such things. I think the real lesson here is to always be prepared to jump on opportunities as they arise. I'm almost to that point, but I've been so busy creating this whole trucking thing that I've been unprepared to receive anything other than this that comes my way. What a fantastic lesson! On the upside, I now know that a job like that actually exists out there.

Opportunity is only wasted if you gain nothing from it. I got a lot of good things today, and I'm grateful.

Nail biter

Tuesday, December 13^th, 2011

      Another day spent in the shop. At least this time, I got my truck serviced. Fear not friends, for the day was not a complete loss. I did get to deliver that load to just a bit up the road.

      I awoke today at 0545. I figured that one and quarter hours was enough to get a reasonable breakfast-like meal in, and make it in time for my 0700 appointment time. Grabbed myself an organic apple from the bag I bought, and happily crunched away. The pre-trip inspection didn't turn up much of anything, but I imagine that this is due to the fact that I wasn't looking for anything that could be wrong. It becomes a matter of course for most truckers to do a simple walk around and check to make sure that all of the lights are working. Sometimes, I'll even check to makes sure the tires are properly inflated, but that is when I feel like doing so would be a good idea. For the most part, a driver can tell when the truck is running funny, and maybe now and again get a bug up their butt to do a complete pre-trip inspection.

      Grabbing some coffee and making a new pot to replace the one I emptied (it was almost gone to begin with, I did not drink the whole thing!) I hit the road at 0615, figuring that half an hour would be plenty of time to drive the 10 miles to the consignee. Apparently I was mistaken. The traffic on WA 167 is a bit thick at that time of morning. I knew that was coming though, but it just took me by surprise at how much there was. Maybe it has to do with that “Boeing” company having a plant in Renton, on the north end of 167, but who's to say?

      I've never been to this place, so consequently, I have no idea what my turn looks like. I have a vague idea of where to go. That is a prerequisite for driving trucks, a good sense of physical direction. Mental direction, on the other hand, is certainly optional. I see a lot of people get sucked into this lifestyle for lack of other ideas. Honestly, I'm becoming a bit worried for my own sake, but I digress. Driving along 212^th ave S (west bound) I start looking for 59^th Place in the dark. This is par for the course, and I am exceptionally grateful for my excellent vision. Seeing signs from far enough away to turn in time is a good thing to be capable of.

      The last bit of the directions read thus: “Facility on the left, follow 'Columbia' signs to the back of the building for receiving.” Fairly typical once again. Often times, there will be a note saying something about distance, or other landmarks. “Second driveway on left after railroad tracks.” “1/2 mile down road on right.” “Directly behind burning bush, do not ask bush for directions.” Traveling down the road at a cool 15 mph, time is running short. Heavens forbid I show up even 2 minutes late!

      I, in fact, show up an entire 3 minutes early, which is still technically late, since it is ideal for them to be unloading you at your appointment time. In the end, it didn't really matter on lick. I got the impression that they would have taken me anytime before 1400. It took them all of 2 hours to unload the beer from my truck and sort out all of the PO numbers. Apparently, there were 15 of them, which is a whole lot of work or something. Beats me. I was just glad to get back and into the shop after all of that nail biting for nothing.

Down, back, and into the Shack

Monday, December 12^th, 2011

      Back again in Pacific, Washington. This time with a purpose. After having put off my truck service to complete the last run, I am now so far over the suggested time to have all that stuff done that there is no choice BUT to do the service. So I wait. Not impatiently, but with a kind of feeling that this is what needs to happen. I'm getting all my ducks in a row for the impending job change and my brief time in between companies. Today was quite busy in fact, I'll relate.

      So first thing this morning, there are all these blinky lights on my dashboard telling me that something is up. I already know this. I'm low on DEF again. Why the amber check engine light has to get involved in this matter is beyond me. I'd start the truck up, and the engine light would come on. There is a little amber light actually shaped like an engine, It seems to come on a lot, and I've not bothered to give it much notice because of this. I suppose I could research the light's meaning in the operator's manual, but nothing has gone wrong thus far. (knock on wood right?) The amber check engine light is also shaped like a little engine, but has the word “CHECK” written on it in all caps lock fashion. It isn't as if I see the waring light on the DEF gauge... or maybe the meter right below the warning light is down to one square that is now amber. (There are four squares on this gauge, all in a neat line. When all is well, they are green, but the last one turns to amber then red if you really drop the ball). I am well aware of my situation. You'd think drivers weren't people to check their gauges or something, geez.

      Quick resolution to that issue, then south to Seattle. I timed it well enough to avoid the thick of traffic, so, hooray for me. I suppose i could have figured out how to get there from the signs on the freeway, but I judiciously decided to follow the directions, as I've never been to this place before. the address is 4050 E. Marginal Way South. It makes sense I suppose. turns out I had to go North on East Marginal Way South, but I was on the right path. Building numbers were counting down... 4680.... 4524... 4490. Then I get to this one traffic light and stop. I figure I got 3 more blocks before I REALLY have to start looking. Passing through the light, I happen to look over to my right and check the building number.. and I'm not kidding “4360-4050”. The entire building was all of those numbers. I figured I'd drive along a bit more and that there would be an entrance. Nope. Well there was, but it was for cars and it would require a turning radius similar to a Smart-Car to get in there. But wait.. it gets better. I see that under the bridge that has sprung up to my left, in the middle of the road I was on, that there is a way to turn around. And railroad tracks. Glancing right, I see a locomotive. Lights on, but it doesn't look like it is moving, so I cross the tracks. Let me tell you how much it scared the wits out of me when I heard that horn blow. I was rather lucky in that the train was moving wicked slow, and that I had space ahead to pull up. So I watied a good 15 minutes for the train to go by.

      In the meanwhile, I call to let the warehouse I just passed know that I am essentially there, just waiting for the train to go by so I can turn around. No answer. I leave a voice-mail. So i get out to see where the heck the train ends, because a bridge support pillar obstructs my view. Cool, it is almost done. Heading back to the traffic light, I get a call from the warehouse. Turns out that they aren't even receiving loads today. Or tomorrow it seems. Must be swamped with old cardboard. So back to the terminal for me. Time to put the truck in the shop, scan all of my paperwork, thank the payroll ladies for saving my butt last week, fill up on DEF, replace the stolen tire chain, fix the broken one, get my filthy truck washed, walk to the library (1.5 miles) to copy my driver's license to send to the next company, walk another ½ mile to fax it to them, then back to the terminal to do almost ALL of my laundry (it's been a while), shower and finally relax and practice the banjo. All of which, I've done. Now I've just got to deliver a load tomorrow morning.

      The load is only going to Kent, a stone's throw away, but it WAS followed with a load to Edmonton, which was based on the idea that I was going to be out of the shop tonight. Since that is not going to happen, I'll pull the short load, then get back in line for my truck to be serviced. Ah well. All the bitching in the world isn't going to fix things, so I let go and accept my situation. And some sleep. I'm beat.

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Banjos without Borders

Sunday, December 11^th, 2011

      Is there a single better feeling than coming home after being away for an extended period? Let me rephrase that. Is there a better feeling than coming home... that I can write explicitly about? That said, I am once again in the United States. The border crossing this time was rather easy. Three simple questions instead of the usual rigamarole. “Where'd you come from? What are you hauling? Where are you going?” Border guards never seem interested in recycled cardboard.

       Between Prince George, B.C. and Mt. Vernon, Washington there are a lot of hills. I'd go into detail about the route, but I've already done so in another blog. There is a lot to be said about winding up on the same routes fairly often. Sure you've already explored the scenery a few times visually. Yeah, the mountains are just as lovely as they were last week. In that sense, it may get kind of old. This is the challenge though; to enjoy the same things again in new ways. Every time we pass through a place, it is not the same as you remember it. There will always be slight variances depending on weather and the amount of time elapsed. On top of that, there is a chance to increase one's mastery with each repetition. That curve posted for 80 km/h? Yeah, I can totally hit that at 100 km/h without incident. It becomes a kind of game to do better than the last time, but with no pressure. And each time is always a bit different.

      Today for example, there was a moose just grazing by the side of the road at dawn. Scared the crap out of me when it moved its head. I thought it was just some brown lumpy thing, like a pile of wood. Further down the same road, I saw a tiny heard of big horn sheep. They were just merrily grazing as if all the passing traffic was a mere pleasantry. A few klicks back, I saw the sign advising that they might be present. Yeah, the signs are a dime-a-dozen and they often get ignored. This time though, I was wondering what it would be like to hit one with a fully loaded truck. I briefly fantasized about clobbering one , then lashing it to the deck above the drive shaft behind my sleeper. Then I considered what it would take to tear the horns off. I think what disturbed me the most was that the first thought to dissuade me from pursuing this in earnest was the idea that the border guards might not be too keen on me bringing a dead animal across customs. If I were in a better mind set, I would have had more compassion for the animal and not considered ripping apart the sack of meat formerly know as its body to collect a trophy. The thought alone of killing a fellow creature of spaceship Earth would have me weeping with pity. If I were in a better mindset. Obviously, I'm not there, since for some reason I thought it would be cool to have a set of bighorns as a kind of gruesome trophy.

      So Now I'm here in the Mount Vernon drop lot, hoping to get a quiet night's sleep before heading into Seattle tomorrow. Not that the city matters so much. And you know what? There was no way I could be so close to Sedro-Woolley and not go get my banjo!!! I'm rather excited to start learning, but perhaps a little daunted by the task. I'm starting from nothing and going from there. One of my former housemates who plays a really good guitar just picked it up and started plucking away, sounding rather good. Then I realize that I am not him, and I need to start some where. I figure that having a musical instrument will be a good lesson for me in that it takes failure and perseverance, and passion to acquire a modicum of skill. Lessons I can sure use in this life time. Speaking of which.. on to lesson 1!


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Experimental Format Fail

Saturday, December 10^th, 2011

      On time delivery. These are words a driver lives by, for it is what we provide, and our companies sell. For some it is a sort of credo, a maxim to live by. This is what I do when I am doing this job. Often times, the hours of delivery will be funny, and it may or may not mess with the hours of service rules. Happily, my current load does not have an appointment time yet. My sole issue is making it into Seattle by Monday.

       Honestly, it isn't much of an issue. I've worked out all of the details yesterday when getting assigned the load. The only challenge, albeit a negligible one, is doing it within my 70 hour limit. That's where today comes in. I'm taking a 36 hour break (it is 36 in Canada instead of a 34 hour restart). For the most part this is a good thing. It lets drivers rest and regain their stamina. I don't feel that I need it, but my log book tells me that I do. Which brings me to my current dilemma. I needed a shower yesterday, so I parked at the card-lock Flying J, which oddly enough has showers. A card-lock is a Canada thing where there are just pumps but no real facilities for truckers, barring showers in this exception. No wi-fi. No place to get out of the truck and gawk a stupid shit. No movies. Nothing but a C-store and a bathroom, which is just fine, but leaves me with not much to do but keep my own company.

That said I am slowly going a bit nutty. After all of the stimulation and distractions of driving, there's not much left to do. I have a couple books I can read, but I've read them already. They may bear flipping through again. In lieu of practicing the banjo (which is still in Sedro-Woolley) I will write, meditate and walk around a lot. Here's where the writing comes in. I'm going to write a bit now and then today, and see if the format suits me. This may not be practical while driving, but for days like today, it may help save my sanity.

0930: Ate some Captain Crunch for breakfast. Awesome. Been awake for 2 hours now. It is going to be a long day. I told myself that I would tidy up the truck today, so I will, but not just yet. I'm going to save that for when I really need something to do.

1715: Turns out that there is a truck stop a short walk away. They offer free internet and, of course, rest rooms. (which are called washrooms here for some reason, but w/e) Having sat in the restaurant to use wi-fi and chat with Jen, I became invariably sucked into conversation with some Canadians about politics. They weren't trying to convince me of anything, but sure had a lot to say about the U.S. and it's policies. Yep. Truckers up here aren't much different than in the states. Everyone's got an opinion.

2115: I spent some time reading and not doing much in general. I did manage to tidy up my truck and I found it was not really that messy to begin with. I spent some time considering what I will do about my upcoming home time and how to work going back and forth and where to leave the truck in the meanwhile.

Hmm. So in the end, I've decided that the time format isn't really going to work for me. I'll keep it for now, but I feel that it interferes with the narrative in general. I kinda like telling stories as opposed to just saying what I've done.

Most DEF

Friday, December 9^th, 2011

      Another night in Canada. I was joking with the border guard about becoming a citizen up here, and she replied, “You spend enough time up here that you don't need to apply.” After delivering in Grande Prairie, Alberta, I went to go grab some fuel. It was a balmy 30 degrees out. you know you've been up here too long when you can walk about in a single long sleeve shirt in 30 degree weather. I fueled without incident, then the day began.

      Having waited 45 minutes for someone in charge to say, “yes, Ian. Buy some D(iesel) E(xhaust) F(luid) [a solution of urea which breaks down some of the more odious exhaust fumes] and we'll reimburse you for it.” For such a small company, I was a bit surprised at how long it took them to respond. The sunrise was worth the wait though, and I'm sure I would have missed it were I driving. A radiant streak of peach and fiery orange luminesced under the dark pall of overcast skies. Wonderful contrast. Leaving the fuel stop and on my way to Fort Saint John, B.C., I let it all hang out on AB 43 west. The headwinds were a bit of a beast, and the going was much slower than it should have been for hauling an empty trailer. Driving up a small incline, I was startled by a bright light in my mirror. “What the hell is that?!” Turns out it was the sun finally breaking the horizon. The time? 0915 local. Seriously? I know I'm kinda close to the time zone boundary, but man I'm way up north.

      Sometime later, and after a bit of a backing fiasco, I pull out of the shipper at Ft. St. Johns. This is the farthest north I've ever been in my life, by the way. I'm fully loaded with OCC, which I have no idea what that stands for, but I do know that it is a shitload of cardboard baled up for recycling. Each bale weighs between 350 and 675kg. I've got 36 on my truck, so I'm pushing the gross vehicle weight limit, and probably axle limits as well. The shipper is a small place, so there is no way for me to tell how much weight is on my axles (this is important and regulated, probably because if it gets too heavy on an axle it tends to break roads and bridges). I've been instructed to go to the nearest scale, which is farther north, and fortunately along my route. So, it turns out that here in Canada, the scales that the DOT equivalent up here operate can be used for public weighing when not open to check trucks for violations. I learned that yesterday, watching a truck scale his axles. Well, I roll out and it turns out that the scale is open and I can't adjust my axles, but they sure can ticket me. I drive past the scale, park, walk in and explain the situation. I plead that there is no scale before here, and I was going to check my weights here. The officer was not very moved. She said I had to cross the scale and that I'd be liable for any fines. It turns out that I could have simply driven across the platform without them really noticing, since they both were talking to some guy who had a zillion axle truck and had some permit issue. Doing the right thing... even when I didn't need to and would have been helpful to just skate on by. So I turn around and cross the platform. Apparently my weights are OK, since I was not stopped. All of that to-do for nothing.

      Continuing my trek, I start driving along BC 29. This two lane road follows the Peace River, which, if the signs are any indicator, is the site of a locally disliked plan to construct a hydro-electric power plant. The river has cut a fairly deep and wide valley in the surrounding rock, and I could see the idea behind a hydro plant. There was even a sign on a farm stating that “All proceeds from this crop go to fight the Site C dam project.” Yeah. People are that pissed. Needless to say, with all of this wonderful space and steep valley walls, I'm pulling some hills and driving down some gnarly slopes. Serious slopes. 10% grade slopes. Four of them, up and down. A 10% grade slope feels like driving down the hypotenuse of a 30-60-90 right triangle, with the opposite side parallel to the ground. (because driving down the other angle would be impossible and/or deadly with no chance of survival). I pulled these hills in 6^th gear. A standard hill is 5-6% grade, and I pull those in 8^th , rarely 7^th. That said, this road is on the, “man it is pretty, but not pretty enough to drive that slow on ever again, so I'll take the longer flat way next time,” list. Even the guy at the shipper warned me about it so I should've known better. Seeing is believing they say.

      I could go on about finding the zen of driving, or watching raven dance in the wind, or how awesome it is to have a shower, but those will all happen again, and I'll find inspiration to write on those topics another time.

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Mutation!

Thursday, December 8^th, 2011

      Good lord! An 8 hour day! I almost feel human again. In some ways.

      Arriving to Costco a bit early, I was a touch dismayed to find out that I was not even on their schedule for delivery. Normally, they are quite good about all of this stuff, both my company and Costco. In the end, it didn't matter so much, as they were able to squeeze me in. It turns out that somebody else was supposed to show and nobody had any clue where he was. Good news for me, maybe not so good for his family (assuming he has one).

      Driving to beat the snow out of Prince George turned out to work well for me, even though I sacrificed a shower, which may or may not have existed at that Flying J I sorta fueled at. I say “sorta fueled,” since all of the pumps but one were turned off. Turns out that there was a fire in a distant Saskatchewan refinery. This created a massive clusterfuck of supply lines, in which Peter was robbed to pay Paul at a number of Fueling locations. So I filled one of my tanks and was on my merry way.

      Along the road today, I was blessed enough to see a moose. I'm guessing it was a cow; it was grazing along side the road. You would think that the moose would run at the soight of a truck, but no. I have a strange feeling that it took me looking into the moose's eyes for her to turn and run. I am that scary. Truth be told, was trying to warn her of the potential danger of her present location. I've seen all sorts of logging trucks driving today, and they all drive like they are trying to escape the impending ravages of time. (Hey, that's right! the faster you go, the slower time goes... so if logging trucks approach the speed of light, then maybe they'll escpae time a bit longer.)

      Other sites of not today include this giant honkin' bird of prey. A bit larger than a bald Eagle with a mottled breast and long raptor-esque beak. I look forward to identifying it soon enough. I also saw a coyote and a bunch of ravens. Looks like they were scavenging a carcass of some sort. Speaking of which, there was a moose carcass by the side of the road as well. Pity.

      Feeling a bit less than human today, and a bit more like some dirt-monster, I was reflecting on some of the bad habits I've developed, which seem perfectly OK when not in the company of others. Be warned: what I'm about to write may not be suitable for decent people. One habit is trying to identify what that dead thing is by the side of the road. A bit morbid for polite company. On a more personal note, spitting phlegm is a favorite, sanctioned by truckers everywhere. As an added bonus, one can get away with shooting snot rockets when you think nobody is looking. These are also called “Farmer blows,” in which you block one nostril then blow any and all contents of the other out in the general vicinity. I clean my ears compulsively now, as if having them clean will make the engine noise less somehow. Probably the nastiest habit I've developed only happens when I forget to cut my fingernails. I'm embarrassed enough about that, but it gets worse. After some time without a shower, crud builds up under there. Being a Virgo (my lame excuse for this ) I like to have my nails clean, but I can;t do this while driving. With a tool anyway. So in lieu of a pair of clippers, I've been making use of the gap between my front teeth and using my incisors to scrape the crud out from under the nails, then spitting the bits out the window. It got kinda cold today. I figure it can't be that bad, since it is almost entirely dead skin and accumulated dirt. Yeah, that's the ticket.

      So for now, I am doing my best to stay reasonably clean, by using alcohol wipes to expunge as much grime as possible until I can get a shower. (hopefully tomorrow). I miss being human.

Super Truckin'!

Wednesday, December 7^th, 2011

      In the industry, drivers have a number of expressions. Today, I embodied one of those; I was a “Super-Trucker.” For a phrase so specialized to one particular subset of Americans, this phrase has more than one meaning. Generally speaking, a Super-Trucker is one of THOSE guys. You know. Has more chrome than paint on his truck. Enough lights to illuminate lower Manhattan. Big honkin' antenna bolted to his mirrors and a radio that will walk all over everybody withing a 5 mile radius. Needless to say, I'm not that guy. I drive a modest company vehicle. No chrome to speak of, no CB, just the bare minimum of lights. Enough to get by. Today I embodied the other use of the phrase.

      One can earn the dubious distinction of being a super-trucker by simply driving your face off. Today was another 11 hours of driving, the legal max. Yet it goes beyond this simple feat of stamina (and brain damage I think). Anyone can drive 11 hours (super-truckers especially) It takes a super-trucker to work with the laws and bend them to your will.

      You see, paper logs are set up in 15 minute increments. “Well what happens when you only stop for 7 minutes?” I'm glad you asked. If you stop for less than 7 minutes you don't have to log it. You CAN, but you don't have to. If you stop for 8 minutes, that translates into a 15 minute time chunk. To use the proper lingo, this is called “shaving,” in that you shave a few minutes of time here and there. Done often enough, one can earn almost an hour of extra time. Granted, this makes your average speed completely ridiculous. In the end though, all of these little bits even out. Or so I'm told.

      In other news, the lumper company that off-loaded my truck last week sent the receipt to my company. I will now get that chunk of cash back! Sweet!

      Today I broke some new ground, traveling from Hope, BC up to Red Rock, BC where I am parked for the night. The first bit of drive goes through Fresser (check this) Canyon along the Trans-Canada Highway. It is quite a sight. Sheer rock walls tower on either side of you, hugging a river that rushes along a snaky path someplace below you. There's a few tunnels ( I believe 5 or 7, I lost count) and a couple of small town. The rocks themselves are gorgeous, looking like a chunky granite in the first part of the canyon, eventually giving way to a mix of compacted sediment, similar to what you'd see in the Badlands of South Dakota, but with less striking features.

      I really enjoy mountain towns. For me it is fun to see how they cram themselves together in such a tiny place, making use of every flat square foot that they can, then building along the canyon sides. In the small town of Yale, I happened past a convenience store that according to the sign out front sold: Lotto, Liquor, Junk Food. I actually laughed out loud at that kind of honesty. Kinda like “Get all the bad shit you know you shouldn't have but want anyway, in one place.”

      Along the remainder of the drive, the entire landscape was blanketed with frost. Trees were covered in it like so many tacky Christmas decorations. Lakes have long since frozen over, giving rise to ice fishing huts. Less than I had expected honestly, but that's expectation for you. As per usual up here, plenty of unreasonably long hills with grades just enough to slow the truck down. Lots of geology to admire, especially along the rivers.

      All this super-trucking has worn me out though. I look forward to a shower tomorrow and sleep tonight. Maybe even internet tomorrow if I get lucky.