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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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.

Teachable moments

Friday, November 18^th, 2011

      I'm trying to be a better person. Aren't we all? Maybe not everyone, but I think we all are on some level. Then again, I'm an optimist. Life has a way of presenting you with what you need to accomplish your goals. “So you want to be a better person,” life begs of us, “then let me help you with some tests.” Funny thing is, is that life gives you the tests first then the lessons after. I recall reading that somewhere, but I found the practical application today.

      Oh Canada, you are such a wonderful mixed bag of blessings. Some blessings are immediately recognized as such. For example, yesterday, I was feeling nasty. Like the, “I think I had a shower a few days ago, but I'm not sure which day,” kind of nasty. It happens a lot in trucking. You figure, “Hey. I had one yesterday, and I don't feel dirty.” Then the days fly by under deadlines and running like crazy to get somewhere for an arbitrary appointment time. I know the hideous details, but I'll spare them from myself. So there I am feeling grody at the Flying J truckstop. I've fueled recently, so I should have a couple showers coming. Wrong! Turns out that they don't load them for a day or two. I walk out dejected, figuring that one more day will be alright. In the parking lot, I happen to meet the driver I helped out at the fuel island earlier. We say hi to each other then I mention my disappointment in the shower situation. He says, “you can have one of my showers, eh?” (of course he's Canadian. I'm in Canada). To that I can only say “thank you,” and “best shower ever!”

      In the same vein of being tested and learning lessons, I am making an effort to be more patient with the world around me. In addition, I am working on noticing the gap between a stimulus and my response. It is said that self observation is what sets us apart form the other animals, so I'm taking the time to use that faculty. In some instances, like when a car zooms right by me, I have been able to monitor the thought, “That car is coming up really fast.” A few times today, i noticed the immediate response, “That guy's a dick.” Other times, I would notice the thought, then decide that no response was needed other than observation for my own safety. It is a fascinating process to watch for me, as I have a unique perspective. In many ways, I feel removed from the world around me by virtue of the truck. I sit higher than most vehicles, I take a lot longer to stop, I can see farther ahead, and the climate control is amazing in these things. I feel that I have to take responsibility for the oftentimes irresponsible actions of others (cut me off again you bastard, and I'll cut your heart out!) for the sake of my life and present income. So maybe I'm over-exaggerating the road rage a bit for effect, but I am now becoming aware of how hasty I am to criticize. Granted, I believe I can drive better than lots of people, but then again, something like 80% of drivers believe they are better than average drivers, which is technically impossible. Regardless of semantics, I am a professional driver, and that means I have to be patient with the other people on the road. My intention is to catch myself criticizing others and stop that habit. What do I need to prove to myself?

      Another test came today here in Calgary. First of all, I haven't seen a temperature above 1*F today; most of the day it was 0*, dipping down a couple times to -2*F. I don't want to go outside, and I am reacting in a negative manner towards this uncontrollable situation. Then to top it all off, I get directions that are neither wrong, nor are they quite right. The name of the trailer repair shop had changed over a year ago, and I'm looking for the old name. The directions were correct, but I didn't see the sign I was looking for. I was instructed to search for “Lion's Gate trailer repair,” and it turns out that they are now “Trailer Wizards.” Hehehe. They even have a map of Canada on a flat-screen with little wizard hats demarcating their locations across The Great White North. Which reminds me... I also saw a “Knight” heating company today. I'm sure a dragon will manifest in some form other than myself. I digress. For me, there is nothing more frustrating than being lost in a big truck. Thankfully, I had a map of Calgary on my person with which to navigate the morass of the SE industrial sector. Boy, is it a clusterf*ck. I observed as my frustration levels soared. I watched as I grew impatient with the traffic and people driving sensibly on the snow covered roads. While I was watching this, I could feel the life draining out of me. Fascinating to see! It took a bathroom break and some food to snap me out of it completely, and here I am now, reflecting on it all.

      The lessons I'm taking away from all of this are:

1) I'm done with Canada. It is said that life begins at the end of your comfort zone, but I know I want something different.

2)By monitoring the gap between stimulus and reaction, you can noticeably lengthen the gap between the two. This in turn, gives you the chance to decide your response.

3) I need not be in such a hurry that I forget to eat or take care of my body. This will take some time for me to really assimilate.

4) Every experience is a teachable moment, if you see it as such.

and finally: 

5) I can feel my emotions, but I can also watch them, which lessens their strength. This cuts both ways, so I will use it judiciously.

dates seem redundant

Wednesday, November 2^nd, 2011

Often times I will get questions. People look at me and “truck driver” is not usually the first thing that comes to mind. In light of such singular circumstance, I have the opportunity to speak to a number of intelligent, educated people who really have no clue about the means by which that box of ( let's just say I chose this randomly) granola bars gets to the shelf at Biff's Shopping Plaza. One question I get a lot is about what it is like to be a truck driver. To be honest, I would say that it is a deeply personal experience, dependent upon the driver and the circumstance of the day and load. The best I can do is to relate what goes on in my mind on a daily basis, hence, I am writing this. 

Today started at 0315 local time, which is one hour ahead of my home time. Depending on who you drive for, timezone change can be a frequent occurrence. Nobody in their right mind starts work that early, and they hammer it into you at orientation that humans have these circadian rhythms that make you want to fall asleep about that time. Driving in the wee hours is great, because there is no traffic to speak of, and the road is yours. Starting so early makes for an early day, which can be a wonderful thing. 

Fast forwarding to the present moment, I've driven for about 9 ½ hours today, worked for 2 or so, and had a nap while being loaded earlier. This is what makes the job interesting. Driving for so long takes a lot of concentration, and your mind is more or less working the whole time. Granted, there are certain parts of the trip that the subconscious takes over the job and your conscious mind can wander; these times are sadly limited to open stretches of limited access highway. For those who don't know, limited access highway is a fancy way of saying “interstate” to use the American vernacular. Your brain gets to space out for a while on those parts. Especially through Nebraska. Nothing to look at for the most part, and the mind is free to rest and wander of its own accord.

Then there are the two lane highways, like state routes and national routes. Driving these roads tend to require a bit more involvement, since swerving into another lane, even for a moment, can cause a head on collision. Then you have people off the side of the road, people turning into traffic, people cutting across traffic and so forth. Lots of stuff happens. (Today some pick-up a ways in front of me hit something... by the time I got there it looked like he drove into a big bag of poop and guts). This kind of stuff requires attention and taxes mental facilities. (The IRS wants to get on that I'm sure). So I drove one of these routes for a few hours at the end of an early day. 
 

Have you ever come off an extended road trip, then gotten out of the car? Did it take your body a while to realize that it isn't going as fast as it was for the last few hours? Welcome to the world of trucking. For the next period of time, the entire world becomes surreal. Being in Canada certainly does not help me; it seems like some parallel universe where things are mostly the same but just different enough. Today I spent a good 45 minutes walking around in kind of daze, neither here nor there. I felt so disconnected from everything. All material things were present, but somehow less substantial, as if they were made up to populate an empty space. It was as if I were seeing things for maybe the second time. I had an idea, but not a clue. 
 

Eating food tends to ground me somewhat. At least to the point where I can attempt to put some words together for this project. I've still got to do my log book, and take care of some paper work. Hah! That's right. When I was day dreaming earlier, it occurred to me that truck driving is like an office job that you need to get dirty in. You sit on your butt all day staring at a screen and watching numbers go by, checking parameters and constantly getting feedback. Then you need to get out of the truck and put chains on your tires because, shit, it's snowing and the road is gone. Best of both worlds I suppose. So much for being coherent. Back to work.

11_1_11

Tuesday, November 1^st, 2011

Keeping up with this may be a challenge! I am stopped in a small beautiful place called Brocket, Alberta. I cannot imagine that more than 500 people live here. The view is of wide open prairie, with mountains off to the southwest, capped with snow. The locals are nice, no surprise there. The one dude working the counter has lived here his whole life. I'd say he was probably 21 or so.

For the first real day of work, today was a doozy. We'll start at the beginning. Up at 0430 my time to get rolling. Typical day for the most part. The sooner you start, the sooner you can park and know that you can find a place to park in. My mission today was to drive an empty trailer across the border and swap it for a full one heading to Calgary. So I drove west, up through Crowsnest Pass, into B.C. Beautiful scenery when the sun came out. Plenty of craggy mountains, snow capped peaks, tamarack trees changing color, still and mirror surfaced lakes enchanting the beauty in a dark wet way.. Seeing as my truck has been governed at 60 mph (100kph for our Canadian friends!) I certainly get plenty of time to take in the sights. 

Being compelled to drive at such speeds, I often found myself invariably being followed by someone or other. (I will say that I passed 1 car today.. they were going 85kph in a 100 zone). So for the longest time, I was being followed by a lowboy flatbed truck. By way of explanation, a lowboy is a flatbed that hooks to the truck over the drive tires, goes back a bit, then drops down and back. The rear tires are usually much smaller than the front (but not always). I guess I would say it looks kinda like a straightened out and elongated “Z”. So this guy was following me for a number of miles along AB 3 and BC 3. After sometime along this 2 lane road, a passing lane opened up and he zoomed right by me. I was glad to have him on his merry way. Not a big fan of people riding my ass really. 
 

Meanwhile, during this initial trip, I quickly found out that my heater was rather anemic. I could run the heat at half fan, but any more than that and the air would blow cold. I put up with this for a while, figuring it would be useful to get back into the States and a repair shop with. A memory gradually surfaced.... people will often shut a particular valve in the summer time to reduce heat going into the climate control unit. My guess was that it was closed. (turns out I was right and corrected the issue.) After thinking about it for some time, I decided that I would pull over and remedy this situation. Finding one of the many, many turnouts along the way, I pulled off the highway, of all places, behind the lowboy driver who had passed me earlier. I got out, stretched a bit, and unlatched the hood. Quite the production to turn a knob, but hey, better than freezing. I then proceeded to inspect the engine where I thought the valve would be. For one reason or another, I missed it on this attempt. A brilliant idea flashed into my mind, “I can go ask that lowboy driver! I bet he'd know.” Turning away from my truck, I begin walking to his. Then I stop. I see him under his trailer, just behind his drive wheels, doing what I had no clue. I figure he was doing some repair or something. With a wave from his roll of TP, it occurred to me that he was indeed taking care of business, but not what I thought. Taken aback, I proclaimed, “Never-mind” and decided to go back to my truck.

After a few moments, and me taking a whiz, he pulled away. I did not see him again, or catch any further glimpses of him. I feel that I may have been too embarrassed to look. In the dim predawn light, I could discern a trail of liquid, and I saw his rear tire roll over a dark spot on the pavement. I attempted to let my mind explain it away as just a dark oil blotch on the pavement. That was until a Raven flew down to that very spot and picked at it. Oh how I wish I was making this up. The Raven flew off shortly thereafter, but I fear that this memory will stay with me for some time. 

10_31

Monday, October 31^st 2011

So today is the first day in the truck. Technically, I suppose that first night would be more accurate. My company flew me into Lethbridge, Alberta to collect a truck that has been in the shop for some time. From what I have gathered, the oil filter on the truck disintegrated internally, then proceeded to completely destroy the engine from the inside. This is cool for me because I am essentially getting a completely rebuilt engine.

The other exciting event is that I'm in Canada, and dang if the natives (the imported ones) aren't nice as pumpkin pie. I cannot think of a friendlier pie, so I'm sticking with pumpkin. Seeing as I flew in with at least 2 weeks' worth of clothing and paperwork, food did not factor much into my packing agenda. After performing all sorts of checks and inspections on my new vehicle, it dawned upon me that I needed food. I took it upon myself to walk to the nearest food vendor. To be honest, I had a vague idea of where the food was, and it was a ways off. Out of hand, I somehow ended up walking to a tropical fish store tucked away in an industrial park. I'm not sure how the logic of placing a fish store in a heavy industrial sector of town goes, but I'm sure cheap rent is involved. That, and I bet the guys that work at the odoriferous chicken and/or pork processing plant down the road have quite the collection of tropical fish.  

I walked towards the door, seeing as the store was still open, and there was this dude just kinda standing there, inside the door. Assuming that he was the shop owner, I wave him down from the street, hoping to ask for directions before he leaves for the night. He looked at me in a odd fashion as I approached. Exiting the building he went straight for his car as I asked, “Excuse me, do you live around here?”

He said nothing, perhaps pretending not to have heard me, perhaps thinking, “I'm in the dirty part of town, and this guy is smiling at me. I hope he doesn't want to be my 'friend'.”

I asked again and he replied in a somewhat brusque manner, perhaps still thinking I was some crazy dude out to shank him. This time, however, I evoked a response which informed me that yes he was from around here,, no he had no clue where to go to eat, and that he lived closer to downtown. While the last piece of info was superfluous to my investigation, it helped color my picture of where he was coming from. For those that have never been to Lethbridge, I would venture to say that this place is safe enough to leave a bicycle unlocked outside your home. I did not see any graffiti, or any signs of decay, and the place has that friendly high plains neighbor thing going on. Maybe he was just a bit off. 

Long story short, I go into the fish store, ask the 2 guys inside where I can find some food. Turned out the younger guy was just getting off of work and gave me a ride to the A&W / Subway / Mini-mart. He also pointed out the casino, and informed me that casino winnings are not taxed in Canada. Awesome! I chose against gambling since my goal is to amass a small gob of cash (although maybe some will come by way of chance). Honestly, I figured that seeing the ATM in the mini-mart with an “OUT OF ORDER” sign on it discouraged me from wanting to gamble. Coupled with the lack of Canadian currency I figured that it wasn't in the cards for me. 

The long walk back was a bit cold and windy, yet surprisingly short for the perceived distance traveled. Is anything greater than having the wind at your back for nearly the entire duration of the walk? Maybe some sun and no wind. If you want to be choosy about it that is. 

So here we go. I'm going to put in an effort and attempt to write daily, if only for my own sake. I intend for this to be my last stint of trucking, so I may as well document it. I've always talked of writing a book about life on the road, and I guess these are just little story notes :)