Saturday, February 4th, 2012
Well, we all have our days. Today had parts of it that were “one of those days,” but I was able to short circuit that bit. Or maybe not. There is some kind of residue lingering. No, I'm not talking about a layer of grease from eating like a trucker. Some kind of emotional imprint, or maybe even something more far out than I care to admit to. But eh, we all believe what we believe.
The day started after a lack-luster night's rest. I fueled up on some coffee and started my pre-trip. See, there ya go? No breakfast is a bad thing. Remember that kiddies. Skipping breakfast turns you into an irritable douchebag. Pre-trip completed, I fire up the machine and roll down the road. I'm only a few miles from the delivery, but it looked so much closer on google maps. I cross the mighty Snake River, on a bridge I considered at the time, less dignifying than this river deserves. Flat concrete? No arches? C'mon people. What gives? Maybe a budget thing. I did notice a distinct lack of signage here (notably road names I needed to know at some intersections.
Anyway, I get there 20 minutes early, and there is a truck parked in the middle of the road, 4-way flashers on. Seeing that we are in the right place, I notice that the gate is shut. now that I'm all amped up on coffee, I get out to look, talk with the other guy (he's the 1000 appointment, I'm the 0900) then call the number given. I am informed that it is quarter of nine (duh) and that I'm the nine o'clock appointment. He's on his way.
So emptied out soon enough, practiced some more banjo in the meanwhile. Very tricky song. It just doesn't sound right yet when I play it. Taking a break, I message people, “so how's it looking for me to keep rolling?” “Not much freight until Monday.” This happens a lot. So I roll back to the truck stop, thinking I'll be hanging here for the weekend. Then I eat some breakfast, to take the edge off.
Some hours later, I am informed that I have a load. I am to drop my empty trailer someplace down the road, then pick up a different one. Cool. I look at Google maps, then start down the road. Well heck. I missed a turn. So I'm tooling down this little two lane road, hoping for a driveway big enough top turn in. As luck would have it, there is a road going north, in the general direction of the interstate. Ultimately, it led me back to the truck stop I started from. I made my turn the second time, dropped the trailer, then asked for directions to the new trailer. “Directions not available for this stop.” Seriously? Why do we not have directions to a trailer repair place?
So I go back to the nearby truck stop with free interwebs, and google the address. Oh. It's right down the access road on the near side of the free way (the drop was on the access road on the far side of the freeway). So I get there, and the place looks like a ghost town. I peek in the tiny garage windows, only to see empty space. The address on the door is correct, and the hours are M-F only. Huh. I call in to work, and they're just as baffled.
I decide to ask the truck stop people where this trailer place is, and it turns out it is on the road behind the truck stop. Locked up for the weekend. No kidding. So I call in and explain, then I get told to go get the empty I dropped and take the plan anyway. Yeah, a lot of driving in circles. Being fed up with the Idaho Falls area, I motored down the highway to McCammon. Ultimately, not that far away, but far enough for me to feel the energy shift for the better.
I took my deep breaths, realizing that me wanting to rip something apart was doing just that, only it was me. Then I realized why I was so frustrated. I've spent my life trying to live up to the expectations of others, even if circumstance would not permit the realization of those expectations. That, and perhaps I am demanding too much from my employer. Sad but true. I give it my all, and I expect them to be on top of their game, when in reality, I'm not always on top of mine. That, and then I considered the sheer number of trucks (around 16000) and trailers (someplace north of 50,000) and what a giant pain in the ass it must be to keep track of it all, never mind all of the customer directions. Yes, I found that perspective came with distance. Sometimes we need to get out and away from something to change our views. it is so easy to get wrapped up in the echo chamber of our mind, especially when you live out of a (roughly) 6'x8' tin can.
As an added bonus, I've marked all the stops I made today! check out the map :D
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