Turning the Page

Monday, July 30^th, 2012

      What keeps us running? Is it personal achievement? Fear of something? Desire to get somewhere other than where we are? Trying to lose weight? Doctors orders? I have my own answer for this question, but I will certainly note that I've been running pretty solid for the last four days, driving from Springfield, MO, up to Aurora, IL, then over to Tacoma, WA. All this to make it back in time to leave again going the other way.

      When you run so hard to get somewhere, the days go by in blurs. You take the federally required minimum ten hours off, sleeping maybe six or five of them. Hygiene takes a bit of a hit, since it seems like there's no time for anything. There are some incidents that hold prominence in my memory of the last week.

      Leaving Springfield, I was assigned a load out of the Kraft factory. I had no idea how much different stuff Kraft makes, but have a look sometime. I had settled in for a wait, since it was a live load, but I was still in a bit of a hurry. You're always in a hurry when it is time to go home. And I was hungry. My stomach was about to jump out and get its own food. Walking into the shipper, the entrance way is a makeshift break room, with vending machines against the far wall, and a low table built into the near wall. The narrow path between the obstacles was decorated with a smattering of chairs of varying makes. They totally had a microwave. Rummaging in the truck, I found that I had some microwavable Velveeta shells and cheese. Oh yeah. Guess who makes that? I went in and joked with the clerk about my lunch. He came back with a pouch of the cheese sauce, flopped it on top of the microwave and said jokingly that the big pouch was the real stuff. He walked away. A few hours later, the pouch was still there, so I took it and put it in my truck. Sitting on the floor, I found that after a couple hours it was rather hot, as the floor heats up from the exhaust filter not too far under the passenger seat. I will say that in a pinch, Velveeta makes a good hot pack and will stay in your shirt for a good spell, the foil stuck to your skin. Later in the week I tried easting the Velveeta with some salty corn chips, figuring “nachos.” Bad idea. That stuff is way to salty to be used as nacho cheese, at least with chips like Fritos. So I tossed the bulk of the bag, sad for the loss of my heating pack, but not that much.

      Blowing through Iowa and South Dakota, then a touch of Wyoming and into Montana. In the South East part of the state, one will find the monument to Wounded Knee. More specifically a pretty boy turned slaughterer. (curly hair that would make Fabio jealous!) They even named the national forest after that Custer guy. This time was much different. A fire had swept through some time before. Entire trees still standing upright, looking like spent matches. The Earth was blackened in many places, in others it was scorched red, devoid of any trace of organic matter. Some surviving trees showed traces of where the heat had singed all of the needles off, as if the fire still haunted the area, leaving a shadowy trace of its existence. Little burnt out nubs of bunch grasses set amidst a blackened landscape. And the smell. It still smelled like an ashtray. The area reeked of char. For all of that, some annual grasses had sprouted, brilliant yellow green, vibrant with new life among the failed cinders, brought about by the recent rain that had swept through. That whole scene will leave an impression for some time.

      So now I'm back, getting ready for the next adventure. I'll be hanging up my CB for a little while at least, maybe for a long while if I find something else I wish to pursue. Chances are that I'll be back out on the road, running. From what though? I've been so busy running for work that I've not really had time to take stock of my life, to reflect on events, to experience my emotions, from joy to grief. I have a lot I need to work through. I can see why some people stay out on the road all of the time. Your problems can't catch you if you are one step ahead of them. If you're always focused on what you are doing right then, the thoughts get crowded out by the present, for better or for worse. Still, some things do need to be experienced, and this is what is happening for me now., now that I've stopped moving. For now.

Storms, astronomy, and Fargo

Satruday, July 14th, 2012

 

     The past two nights, I've awoken and started driving in the dark.  This has been fantastic, since each night brought distant thunderstorms to the southern horizon.  I watched with glee as the lightning arced from cloud to cloud, in a series of fragmented bolts.  On occasion, the bolts would strike the ground, perhaps igniting a fire some place beyond my concern.  Both episodes were dry for the most part, with a few bands of rain.  Every so seldom, a bolt would blast down in the field of my direct vision, temporarily blinding me in the darkness.  Even after the bolt evaporated, there were negative images in a greenish black, burned into my vision.  Happily I eat a lot of carrots, so that passed quickly.  I like to think to myself that this is some kind of omen or something.  Maybe it isn't, but maybe it is.  I do not recall having any specific question in mind at either time.  The best I can do is take it as a sign that I chose the right route instead of driving through driving rains.

     Having passed the storms, The rest of the night brought me into North Dakota.  It is a lovely place, which I now understand had no trees at all until settlers came across.  I figured that there would always be trees where there was enough water, but I was wrong.  Trying to picture the plains without sparse shelter-belters seems like an alien concept to me, but "normals" change all of the time.  

      The highlights of the day thus far has been the large number of small wetlands along the roadside.  Humans call them "Prairie Pot-holes," while all other creatures just live there.  Cattails line the banks of these small bodies of water, still and reflective in the early morning light.  On one of the larger ones, what some would call a large pond back East, a Canada goose was leading her troop of quite large and maturely feathered gosling across the otherwise calm surface.  In all there were six not so little ones in tow.  I saw no sign of a partner goose bringing up the rear, which seems quite odd to me.  I hope all is well with them.

      Contrary to popular belief, the Great Plains are not entirely flat.  Sure there are some places that are, but up here, as well as in South Dakota and Nebraska, I've traveled some slightly rugged terrain.  I even had to down-shift a couple of times to maintain my RPM's.  Nothing you'd want to bike up, but nothing so high as to afford you a hang gliding location.  There was, however a scenic overlook just outside of Dickinson, ND, that sat atop the plateau, over looking a series of valleys cut out by the river below.  

     Sunrise was once again amazing, still with the same dark grey clouds, but layered, evoking the effect to the sun rising out of an envelope.  A few hours previously, I saw the waning crescent moon rise, a deep red and larger than any crescent I've ever seen before.  I kind of did a double take, unsure as to what I was seeing at first.  I was also privileged enough to watch Jupiter and Venus rise this morning.  Venus was much less luminous lower in the atmosphere than we more often see it bright and higher in the sky.  It almost looked like Mars from that angle.  

       Not many people out here to comment on, but I did notice that in the restaurant that you can kinda tell which women are native to this part of the country.  It seems that the predominant hair style is straight and long.  Sensible, yet traditional.  Eyeglasses were quite common amongst the women, all shaped in a  sensible and intelligent rounded rectangle form.  It was as if there was a colony of stereo-typed librarians here at one point that ended up spreading across the northern plains.  The people highlight is that I saw a brown person at the truck wash!  Like some rare trading card or token ethnic dude on a television show.  

      For entertainment, I think I'll walk over to the Home Depot across the way and ask if they have wood chippers for sale.  Particularly, ones strong enough to chip, say, a dismembered human body.  I wonder if they get that a lot here in Fargo?

Just Observe

Friday, July 13th, 2012

 

      Another busy day today, and another hard run tomorrow.  I am totally looking forward to taking the day off in Fargo.  Upon awakening, I was pleasantly surprised at how good I felt after a scant 6 hours of sleep.  On the down side, I did not recall any dreams.  On the up side, I made it here alive.

     Of late, I am working on becoming more present in the moments.  The gist of the whole thing is to still the mind and just observe.  Nights are great for that because there are so few distractions.  That said, it is no small feat.  Monitoring every thought is like trying to grab hold of a fish, coated in Vaseline, swimming in an aquarium, in the dark.  I may have gotten to the point where I've turned the lights on, but there are so many metaphorical fish lurking about that I just end up staring at one of them for a while.  Such is the mind.

   The benefit here is the few glimpses you do get of stillness, and how enchanting it is.  Just before dawn, I was driving through Montana.  It had been getting light for quite some time, but then it happened. Looking off to my left, there was a break in the clouds, Thick and grey, the lower clouds were stacked like mountains, while the clouds higher in the atmosphere floated in thin wispy contrails and brushstrokes.  Set between a pair of modestly forested hills, the sun shone through, golden red for the briefest of moments.

     In that splendid moment, thinking ceased, and all was right in the world.  No pressures, no concerns, no worries for anything but the here and now.  I was sad to have the scene disappear as I rounded the curve.  I tried to find that moment once again, but it was quite gone.  This seems to often be the case in life; we'll find something that leaves us breathless for a moment, then strive to cling to that moment, as if we could grasp a curl of smoke.

      Shortly thereafter I took a short nap.  This seems to be a great routine for driving the overnight.  Rest about 1/2 an hour around dawn then you're good to go again.  In some way, I think part of me was trying to cling to that sunrise moment.  I found myself more irritable and impatient as I drove down the road.  At one point, I felt my heart just ablaze with fire and anger at some guy passing me too slow for my taste.  As he drove by, I saw him driving completely distracted.  That got me going for a few moments.  Then  I watched the body's response to the thought.  Funny how the emotion subsided so quickly just by observing.  This is not to say that my fuse was any longer, just less explosive.

     For now, I am going to get some rest, meditate and maybe skip the banjo again today.  I'll have plenty of time in Fargo!

The week in review

Thursday, April 12^th, 2012

      As with anything in life, adhering to a rote pattern for its own sake does nobody any good, especially me. After nearly a month away now, I feel compelled to write. However, I do not feel compelled to write daily, as was my mandate before. To be honest, it seems kinda hard to top my experience in Saint Louis. I am still trying to burn that image out of my mind. In the meanwhile, I've returned back to Sumner, then out again, but this time, exploring the back roads of the heartland, which I'm sure is called that not because of geography, but because people here have hearts. I think.

I've seen all sorts of things this past week. Driving from Superior, CO to Golden is a wonderful drive, especially if you are not pulling any weight. This drive takes you abreast the Rockies themselves for a short span. The further south you travel from Boulder / Superior the more it becomes foothills, with less splendid views of mountains. For those interested, Superior is where Boulder has located all of the big box stores like Costco, where you can buy 100% recycled (80% post consumer) paper towels in bulk, because really, there is no irony there. Speaking of which, I wonder if this town has a complex by being so close to an awesome place to live?

      “B-Double E, Double R, U, N, beer-run!” Traveling from Boulder to the middle of freakin' nowhere Montana was more amazing than I thought. The trip through Wyoming along WY-59 certainly made pulling 45,000 pounds worth it. This road is fairly lonely, but not as lonely as one may think. Along the way, There are all sorts of industries. A number of tanker trucks passed me going the other direction. Most bore hazardous materials placards, number “1267,” and a couple with the number

“1203,” both flammable liquids; crude oil and gasoline respectively. I was wondering where this all came from, then an answer presented it self in the form of myriad pumps. Even better, I passed a site calling itself “Peabody Energy Mine.” Wait... I've heard of Peabody before.. oh yeah! The coal guys who wanted to mine coal under the Navajo reservation and use fresh aquifer water to sluice it over to Vegas! Then I passed another 2 “energy mines” along with miles of train cars, either filled or waiting to be filled. That and empty wind swept miles of ranch land, which cna be very breathtaking to behold, especially now as we head into spring.

      Up to Montana and back into Wyoming for the next load. Unbeknownst to the entire world, except for a select few, the North East corner of Wyoming holds a massive deposit of bentonite. I'm sure you are all waiting with bated breath, “what the hell is it?” It is often called bentonite clay, but it is in reality a volcanic ash. Light gray in color, it cakes very much like clay and is slippery as all get-out when wet. Or so I am told. The principle use is to make cat litter, the clumping variety. Talking to a local in the nearby truck stop, I learned of myriad uses for the slippery grey dust. It goes into cosmetics. It is used in steel production. It was, at one point used to create molds for engine blocks (single use molds), it goes into all sorts of food products, from hot dogs to all this other stuff I wonder about (as a binder). Yes, this little area of the world produces something like 70-80% of the world's cat litter. No shit!

     Then Off through South Dakota and Nebraska. The town of Mission, SD is buried in the heart (well, upper heart) of one of the Sioux Reservations. The town itself is not much to look at. Lots of squat buildings, some nicer than others, a few boarded up, graffiti along the perimeter of a steel building on the main drag. A shiny C-store on the west end of town, a university I've never heard of Sinte Gleska, but most of all I noticed the people. This town had more people on the streets than I had seen in mid morning Bellevue, WA, a place certainly 100 (perhaps even 1000) times larger. People of all ages walking around town going about their business. I'm not sure how to convey my amazement at this simple thing.

      Then there's Nebraska. Ever hear of Sandhill cranes? Well Google it if you haven't. Ever wonder why they are called this? I sure did. Turns out that there are endless miles of sandy hills pocked with marshes in north central Nebraska. Seems the cranes breed here. Muskrat lodges by the dozens!

      Fast forwarding to today, I got to enjoy quite a lot of the back roads here, almost driving off one of them just contemplating the landscape. Passing through the town of Farwell, NE (home of the largest Polish Catholic Church in Nebraska, a surprisingly specific sign) I got the sense that I was, in another place. Poland specifcally, even though I've never been. The land is flat, green, windy and probably cold as heck in the winter. Further along the road, is Loup City. The self proclaimed “Polish Capital of Nebraska.” I'm sure there's a tasteless joke in here some place.

      Back through Broken Bow and down to Lexington, to pick up an empty trailer. I learned that I was going to IBP, or Iowa Beef Processors, which it seems Tyson had bought out at some point. On the way down, I had driven past a number of expansive feed lots. Cows standing in complacency for want of a place to go and graze. Air so foul with manure and urine that I gag as I drive the 2 miles past one of these places. Yes, right to a “processing plant.” Waiting in line to get my empty trailer, 4 cattle trucks pass by, sending more cows to their doom. Yet I still eat chicken, and I know their fate is no less worse. Ah morality. That said, I apologized to the cows as they gazed out of their mobile metal prisons, only to be prodded into the jaws of death, and prayed that they have a better life in the next incarnation. What else could I do?

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Your brain on trucks; a disjointed ramble

Thursday, March 1^st, 2012

      Oddly enough, it seems that I have stopped at the only Pilot truck stop in the nation that does not have wireless internet. I will not grieve for lost time staring vacuously into the shiny screen. In fact it fits into the theme of the day. Actually it would be just as appropriate to stare blankly at a screen as well, but screens are so limiting.

      Starting off early, I left Anaconda behind. The guy that was next to me idling his noisy ass p.o.s. truck left before me, which is just as well. Consequently, I did not sleep as well as I could have, and I am certainly ready for bed. Here are some observations I made during the day.

      At one point, I was totally spaced out, but still being with the road. It is like you see what is going on, but your body mind is completely elsewhere. I was alert enough to be sure. Someplace past the Little Big Horn Battlefield, I considered it funny that they actually pay me to do this. For some reason it had not occurred to me at the level of “I am holding a steering wheel and contemplating everything.” The idea of it being work was long gone.

       Driving past Little Big Horn, it gave me pause to reflect. Were Americans such a bunch of ethnocentric, mean spirited bigots? Are we still? If our nation is mostly a nation of Christians, I would say we are setting a poor example, and/or ignoring what that Jesus dude said the whole time. Just driving past the site, one can feel the resentment in the earth. Furthermore, it is a monument in the Crow Nation. Why immortalize someone who slaughtered a bunch of people because they did not agree with him/his system? I found it hard to believe that being an American myself, that I was somehow linked to this inhuman madness.

      Late into a long day, there is a certain kind of momentum going. You've already been driving for so long. Your body takes a bit of a back seat as your mind takes over. That full bladder? It can wait another 60 miles (and it did). When you do finally stop, it is like hitting a wall. Suddenly not moving at a good speed feels foreign to you. The head thinks you are still going, but the body is stiff and sore from hunkering down in one position for 6 hours straight. Nothing that can't be walked off, which is just as novel.

      I found it funny the things I remembered about certain stretches of road. The hill south of Billings is long and more long. I remembered the hill as you turn onto 212. There is a stretch of 212 in Montana that I have a vivid memory of passing a truck driver, who was on his cell phone. I would keep catching up to him at 65 (back then) and I went to pass. I don't think he even looked into his mirror the whole. He was up to 65 some time just before I pulled along side him on the two lane road. In the end, I honked my horn and he slowed to let me pass, still on his phone. I later found out that he could have been going quite a lot faster than he was. I was less patient then.

      Today it didn't matter. I had almost the entirety of the east bound drive to myself. In 180 miles, I was passed 5 times, by cars. That certainly contributed to enjoying my spacey time. Road hypnosis is a strange thing, and it leaves you tired in the end. A shower rounds out a wonderful day, which can only be made better by some good sleep, since my brain isn't functioning too well. Good night all.

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Escape Velocity

February 29^th, 2012

      At last! I have escaped Washington state's gravity well and have traveled to someplace else! What was beginning to look like another day in Spokane turned out to be a good long trip after all. How long, I am not certain yet, but at least I am heading someplace else for the time being. Lots of time to ponder on the open roads, Especially tomorrow since I'll be taking a few state routes on my way to Rapid City, SD.

      At this moment, I am parked at a rest stop outside of a town called Anaconda, Montana. To the best of my knowledge, there are no large snakes living here, certainly not of the tropical persuasion. I am also fairly confident that the movie of the same name was shot somewhere else, despite having never seen it. From what I gather, this is one of those little towns that was a mining town so long ago, but is now becoming more attractive to affluent types who enjoy outdoor activities and art of sorts. I think “Art in the Park,” speaks volumes. It is also really freakin' cold out here tonight, so I'll pass.

      The one thing that did grab my attention in this rest stop (okay, one of two things) was this dull whumping sound. It remained rhythmic, but changed pitch when the wind gusted. In the dark, on the edge of sight it seems that there is a wind turbine powering this amazingly modern installation and all of the security cameras that are installed here. The cameras, being the other thing that grabbed my attention, are mounted both outside and inside, to discourage wrong doing I suppose. Putting Big Brother behind me, I am glad to be so near a small wind turbine, as it gives me plenty to think about for powering any future domiciles or other structures I may wish to inhabit or use.

      Earlier, I awoke to a preplan already on me. Sweet! 1500 some odd miles sounds great. Delivers in a week? Not so great, but I figured i could t-call it some place. Then I saw the attached note: “T-call in rail yard.” They did not say which one, so I asked about it after already saying I would take the load. A message comes back, I am taking it 5 blocks from the shipper in Spokane to the rail yard, also in Spokane. Hah! I would be alright with local work, but they certainly aren't paying me by the hour. After some phone wrangling and essentially asking “wtf?” the office may or may not have it straightened out. Some of them are of the impression that I am going to take it to the Edwardsville terminal and drop it there. Others thought I was still taking it to the rail yard, but then figured that I would be taking the load all the way to the final, next week.

      For my part, I'm convinced that I'm going to Edwardsville, KS. Maybe I'm supposed to take it to the final, maybe not. I will certainly ask them tomorrow to make up my mind for me. Either way, it gets me rolling and puts some money in my pocket, which is the thrust of the whole “job” thing.

      I've also decided that I really appreciate the scenery here in Montana a lot. I wrote about this some time ago when I worked for Gordon. This time around, it is still just as beautiful, but I am somewhat less moved by it. Still, I can see why people really enjoy being here. I'm sure I'll have plenty of it to see tomorrow, with about 400 some odd miles left of my journey here to go.

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Snowin' and Blowin'

Sunday, December 4^th, 2011

      “Christ on a Cannondale! It's about time we saw some terrain.” These are words I imagines Lewis and Clark saying as they crossed out of the monotony (but easy miles) that is the Great Plains. I said that myself in hopes of emulating the intrepid explorers who were mapping a land already known to First nations and plenty of French fur trappers. But that is beside the point.

      Today, I ventured across North Dakota, much of it under the cover of darkness. I've heard rumors that this is where they keep all the clones of the U.S. government, so I'd just as soon not be spotted out here. Honestly though, going in the dark serves two purposes. The first purpose being is that it justifies my coffee habit. I figure, “Hey, I'm up before the freakin' SUN. I get to have coffee.” Granted, the sun never really stops working, but I'm only human. The second bonus to driving at night is that I don;t get as distracted by the scenery. In this case, there is so little to look at that ANYTHING more interesting than endless horizon becomes a target for scrutiny.

      Today for example, I became a cow spotter. I'd look for cows huddled together keeping warm in the blowing snow. There isn't much snow, but enough to blow around and make a huge cloud behind the truck when driving, much to the consternation of other motorists. My unspoken goal was to see every cow along the way, and wish them a better life the next go-round. At one point, I became so fixated on cows that everything cow-sized looked like a cow to me. Torn black plastic? A couple cows hunkering down in a fence corner. Couple big rocks in a field? Two cows hanging out with a little blanket of snow. I'm starting to wonder if something is wrong with me and this recent obsession with cows.

      Maybe it was because I was really craving cottage cheese. Here at the Town Pump in Billings, MT, they had a pint of it for sale in the store so I bought and ate all of it. Along with some butterscotch pudding! When was the last time you had that?

      On a more work related note, much of the job is spent calculating driving time and hours to get from here to there. I took that reset yesterday, because I was certain that I would not make it to Oregon in time for delivery even if I didn't rest. For some reason though I had some second thoughts about the timing. I somehow managed to recalculate the hours wrong. I was feeling a bit upset at myself for making a mistake, and not delivering on time. I certainly hold excellence in very high regard, especially in my work. So I drove for a while feeling a bit crap when it occurred to me that this re-calculation was wrong and that my original thought was correct. What a relief!

      All told, the time went by really quickly thanks to a couple snow storms up here. One gets so focused on driving that everything else just kinda goes by the wayside. My biggest scare came when passing a fuel truck going up a hill. You see, the roads out here are so vast that plowing almost always waits until the snow stops. I saw 2 plow trucks today (both working the same exit) in a 620 mile drive. This means that the highway usually has a single lane cleared, almost entirely from the action of big trucks driving by and blowing the snow off. This leaves the passing lane a mess more often than not. Packed snow, occasional gravel (as evidenced by being pelted by it every time some one passes you) and a rare bare spot make for a rough ride. So going up the hill, passing this fuel truck, the wind is still gusting. Thankfully I'm pretty heavy (hauling 22.5 tons of cooking spray) or else I might have been blown off the road. At least I felt that way. When you're driving a 53' by 13' sail, you can feel the wind push your trailer around. At 60 mph, not the best feeling in the world. That said, I passed the guy and made it Safely to Billings, where I will soon go to sleep :) Good night all!