Wednesday, December 7th, 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.
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