Wednesday, March 14th, 2012
Ah Dixie, you are indeed beautiful and nice this time of year. Your trees covered in purple flowers are a sight for sore eyes to be sure. Where else can you get a lush emerald green and 80 degree daytime temperatures? On top of that, where else will you get honest-to-goodness hushpuppies? I'm starting to wonder if the Universe is trying to convince me to stay in this corner of the country. There has to be some kind of progressive thinking people down here someplace... it can't be all 'red'. Which reminds me, wasn't being “red” a bad thing once? Like communist, or socialist? I digress.
Today has been a bit of an adventure for me, and not many miles traveled. Starting sometime before sunrise, as is usual, things kinda went wrong on the truck fairly quickly. I had finished my pre-trip inspection, knowing full well that the light cord from truck to trailer was a bit wonky. Seems that it was out sometime last night before hitting the truck stop. I manage to get the lights working, but the mere act of turning the engine over was enough to loosen the plug from it's socket. I stopped to readjust it again, and was set to go. Pulling out onto the access road, the lights went out again. This time, I reversed the plug and swapped the ends for a much better fit. Down the road I go.
I get to the shipper a bit early and enjoy some time playing my banjo. I'm done well before I expect to be. Right on! The thing is, I had to drop the trailer and let the yard jockey put it into the door. He pulls it out of the door and drops it in an easy to get to place (dude was way cool!) and I'm backing under the trailer, ready to roll. This time, it seems my mud flaps are dragging on the ground. That's odd. I pull away, and the truck won't build air pressure for anything. After a few bumpy blocks, I am at a Pilot truck stop under my truck looking at the leveler valve. (I know right? What the hell is a leveler valve?) Despite the fact that I had never heard of it before, it was certainly broken and leaking air.
Three hours later, after a suggested 2 hour wait time, the repair guys come to fix my truck. Long story shorter, I unhook and drive 3 miles to their shop so they don;t have to work in the rain. The boss man starts to work on the truck, only to find out he has the wrong part, which is not uncommon since truck parts change so quickly. That's the thing with being a mechanic or technician. you make good money, but a lot of it can get eaten up with buying the ever changing tools.
Dude goes out for a while to get the part. I'm in the shop with the younger guy, who's name is Cedric. Pretty cool guy. He was telling em how amazing it is to be down here. What with fishing and all. He enjoys being a diesel mechanic, despite the fact that his boss talks down to him a lot. It was straight out of a southern stereotype, which really surprised me. “Now Cedric, don't ratchet wild now. Faster Cedric. No, you ain't listenin'” Imagine all of that with a southern accent and a hint of acid in the voice. Cedric took it like a champ, and was all “yes sir.” During our chat, Cedric was seemingly trying to convince me to live down here in Birmingham.
Some time later, the truck is repaired and I'm on my way. I extend my best wishes to Cedric and roll down the road once more, hooking up to the trailer I left in the Pilot parking lot. Probably shoudl have locked it, but who's going to steal a truck load of Chep pallets? Out of Alabama and into Mississippi. I'm wondering where to stop for the night. I'm thinking that I can make it to the town I'm set to deliver these pallets in, but not to the final, drop this trailer pick up another and park for the night. I don't have that kind of time. Just north of Tupelo, I hear a loud boom. Checking my mirrors, I see a piece of ejecta fly across the lane in my left mirror. That was a tire. Or a bit of one. Limping to the next truck stop, 5 miles away, I settle in for the night and call the breakdown hotline again.
By this point, I am really starting to wonder what the hell I need to be learning from this situation. Both times, I had a load going west; the first load was to Amarillo, the second to Aurora. Now my next load picks up in Missouri, then back to Eastern Tennessee. We'll see if something else malfunctions before then.
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