Tell us about your first solo trip

Thought it might be fun to look back at our first trips in this biz. Give the newcomers some hope that it's all good and us million milers some good laughs at how green we really were when WE started. Yes we WERE that green.

Long posts welcome: That's kinda the point. Tell your story and let everyone (yourself included) get a kick outta it. Leisure and amusement read but there's always a lesson or two in a good story.

I started in this business in '98 with a beginner's permit working for a total outlaw that told me that if HE authorized me, I could drive solo without anyone else. Let me test drive the truck. Shifting came naturally to me. Backing . . . not so much. LOL. "Don't worry. You'll figure that out." OK cool. Let's do it. He wrote out the stupidest "authorization to drive solo" (why say IT was stupid when I totally bought it too LOL) and gave it to me with the keys to an old T600, a fuel card and a BOL for the load and said; "You know where Houston is?" "Yeah. Texas." "Good. Know how to get there?" "Yeah. Go west and south." "Good. Be there in the morning." "I will." Fired that rattle trap up without even kicking a tire and it was the thrill of my LIFE! Goosed the throttle and that old Cat's throaty roar and black smoke hooked me on diesel for life.

I stopped at a gas station leaving town and bought a fold up Rand McNally map of the US and headed for Houston. Every scale I passed was closed. Stopped at a dumpy Pilot on I-10 just before Houston to figure out where to go IN Houston. Copped a pull through. No backing required AWWWSOME! Low and behold the address on the BOL was a P.O. Box. Used one of the pay phones on the wall in the driver's lounge after waiting my turn. There was a bank of them and every one had someone on it and someone waiting next in line. Called Boss. He said call the customer and gave me a number. Called. Busy. Called again. No answer. Went to the fuel desk clerk to ask for help. Clerk totally cool asks the business name and pulls out this HUGE paper book (turns out to be the Business White Pages), finds the business and a real address. We go over to the wall and there's a huge blow up detailed map of Houston on it with the Pilot drawn in as a big star. We plan a route.

I decided to give calling the customer one last try. Got an answer. Some lady with a thick Hispanic accent that gave my Georgia Country Cracker arse fits understanding, as I'm sure my thick country accent gave her but we finally got through that I needed directions (el dee-rect-ee-own-ees por favor - stop laughing; I'm totally serious) so she put me through to the dock. Someone else equally linguistically challenging gave me directions that were pretty close to what the clerk and I came up with so I roll. Everything went cool til I came to a turn the truck and trailer couldn't make without hitting a phone pole. Couldn't be done. I had routed through a residential area.

Backing skills totally absent the only way to get out of the pickle was to back my 53' dry box back down where I came in. Great. No need for cardio workout. My heart rate was well above 120 for the whole hour it took me to back up three blocks to where I could turn to get to a bigger road (nope - no cops, no backers and popping the 4 ways never occurred to me. Just reverse and a bunch of "Oh #####'s and other cussing). Didn't care WHERE the road it led. I just wanted a bigger road. If it was bigger, I took it. Til I got to "the bridge".

Why on God's green earth it even dawned on me to think about clearance is still a mystery to me but the Good Lord saw fit to put a "Hmmm. I wonder if I'll fit under that?" thought in me so I got out and looked. "How tall am I anyway?" I had no clue and no way to measure. I looked at the power lines and figured I passed under them so how high was the overpass in reference to them? Kinda close. Probably better just go by the height of the phone pole as a guide. Yeah. No way I'll fit under that. It's a little lower than a phone pole. Better not chance it. I'll just back down the street again and go around it. Same deal backing only THIS time I DID think to pop 4 ways and blow the horn every few seconds.

In retrospect I probably shouldn't have used the air horn. Fine folks in that Hispanic neighborhood weren't real impressed. A lot of Hispanic mothers (some with crying babies) shouting at me and I don't think it was el dee-rect-ee-own-ees por favor or Spanish for; "A little to the right. OK. Straighten her out. There. C'mon back". Not based on gestures and body language. All I could hear was my heartbeat pounding in my ears so I can't say about their tone. Bet it wasn't friendly, though and I stopped blowing my horn even though one little kid wide eyed and grinning like The Cheshire Cat kept pumping his fist to do so. LOL. Honestly that was when the calm came. It was like a chuckle and an F'-It moment hit me. "Dude you are so totally screwed it don't matter at this point. Can't get any worse." So I gave him a honk and a thumbs up and he went running inside laughing.

After many stops on the side of the street to use $10 in quarters for the pay phones and call my communicationaly challenged customer (yes, there used to be a pay phone on every corner and they actually usually worked) for more el dee-rect-ee-own-ees from aqweei por favor I somehow wound up in the industrial section of Houston and at the right warehouse just before they closed. After 247 pull ups in the biggest most dream dock annoying the living ##### outta the yard dog blocking him jockeying trailers around he finally came over and told me to just drop the trailer and he'd back it in for me "F'in' stupid arse rookie". At that point I didn't care. "Cool by me. F droppin' it. Jump in and let's see YOU back this thing, smart arse." Dude whipped it around in a circle (yes THAT much room) and blinsided it in like it was easy or something. LOL.

They stripped the Igloo coolers I was toting off and signed my bills practically throwing them on the ground back at me. I'm tired but I'm just SOOO ready to get the hell outta Dodge it ain't funny so having a decent general sense of direction I head back out to where I figure the Interstate should be and it was and I went back to that Pilot and fueled, used the bathroom and refilled my Thermos. Well the Louisiana scales WEREN'T closed on I-10 and I got pulled in. Empty. Probably had something to do with the old KW being a black smoke rattle trap.

I had no clue about such things so I'm thinking no big deal; Right? Now the scales and the Interstate on I-10 through LA were nothing like they are now, back then. A glorified guard shack on a roller coaster highway with more pot holes than Carter had liver pills. Scalemaster did any paperwork checks and State Police did any vehicle inspections. I grab my permit book and drag my "ain't slept in over 24 hours" arse into the scale and the first thing the Scalemaster wants to see is my license, which I gladly produced not thinking a thing about it. My MVR is clean. No worries.

"Che'. Dis is a jus a pemit. Where you license?" "Don't have to have one. I have authorization to drive solo on a permit" (dead serious and sober as a judge) and I hand him the paper Boss wrote out. Dude looks at me like I got a mackerel sticking out my nose. Where it says WTF in the internet slang dictionary - his picture when I said that should be there. No further definition required. He reads the paper and goes to the back and brings out the State POlice guy. I hear chuckling and the words "serious" and "as a heart attack" going back and forth between them and now I'm getting a little concerned. [thinking] "WTF gonin' down? He's got my permit and authorization to drive solo. What's up? Oh #####. This is some of that "Where's the fire boy" AL/ LA BS. I'm from GA. I heard all about how they are over here. Play cool. Do like the blacks have to and Uncle Tom 'em."

Statie (Dude looks like he swallowed a basketball and didn't have a clue about the State Benefit Dental Plan and I'm ########' nickels at this point cause I just know I'm gonna be doin' time on some Cool Hand Luke prison farm) comes over to me with my license and says he wants the rest of my paper. "Yessir. Absolutely Sir, but what rest of my paper?" "You registration, insOrance, BINGO card - I mean IFTA, an you log book." "OK. Yessir. I got it all right here in my permit book, and I don't know what you mean log book. (I am totally NOT kidding) - I don't haul logs. I got a dry box."

"Speaking of pemIts; why you on MY road without no license?" "Sir, I mean no disrespect but my Boss told me I could drive on my permit if he authorized it. He did and you got the paper he gave me. I'm permitted and authorized and since we aren't hauling logs I don't have to do anything with logging Sir. Paper says so." The best wordsmith in the world could not describe the look on that man's face. Just let your imagination run wild with shock and confusion like - "nobody can really be THIS dumb." And he basically said as much. He asked me how I got there and I spit the route to Houston out like nobody's business. Once I go on a road I got it. That part comes natural too. "An NOBODY stopped you?" "No Sir. Everything was closed when I came by." "How you know where to go then?" "I bough a map Sir."

"Lemme see dat map." [TOTALLY ######## bricks by now - nickel done gave way to large clay by this point - WHY does he need to see my map?]. Yessir. It's in my truck. I gotta go get it. Here's my keys so you know I'm not gonna run." [actually laughing a sincere belly laugh] "I ain't worried bout you runnin' Che'. My car run down that POS you drivin' on it's worse day an you tires can't bounce my 38." "Yessir. Nosir. That's a big ole Smith you packin'". [thinking] Uncle Tom. Lord Jesus just please get me outta here. I'll donate blood, work at the shelter - anything - just please don't leave me here. I seen Deliverance. I won't do well at all in a Bayou prison camp.).

I bring my map in and he's got a cup of coffee at the counter now and says; "No. You map BOOK boy. Map BOOK." Yesir but Nosir, I don't have a book of maps yet. I just started. I plan on gettin' one of each state. It's just that this run didn't go good and I just wanna get home and I know the way back from comin' down." A look of enlightenment, pity and resignation stole over that fine officer and he became aware that I was green as a goat, totally serious, not pulling his leg and trying to get away with something. I had managed to violate just about every regulation under the sun out of stone cold ignorance and it was a miracle I hadn't tore something up, but I could actually drive the truck.

He told me he wasn't gonna write me for anything and gave me a laundry list of stuff he COULD write me for. BUT "You gonna have to pay some due" (Oh ##### this is the Deliverance part comin'. He's gonna make me squeal like a pig), [Gulp] "Yessir. Thank you sir. How much do I owe you?" "Not money boy. Time." I totally lost bladder control right then and said: "Can I at least use the bathroom first?", thinking handcuffed ride in the back of the car to the prison farm. "Yeah. Right over there."

I did and came out resigned to my fate as Bubba Bruce's prison b!tch for a little while and started taking things out my pockets. "What you doin?" "Might as well save you havin' to pull it out my pockets arrestin' me. Don't really like other folks hands in my pockets sept for my wife's." [sincerely laughing again - I made the Dude's year apparently] "I ain't arrestin' ya dumbarse. I'm gonna teach ya somethin' cause I don't think you stupid. Dumb as a stump green but not stupid, so sit down shut up and don't (ugly N word) talk me. I'm a State Law Enforcement Officer. Not a Straw Boss on a Cotton Farm."

"THIS is a map BOOK" and he pulls out a RMN Motor Carrier Atlas. "You seem like a good kid so I'm gonna take your word on it and if you promise me you'll stop at the Tiger Truck Stop just down the road and make this your next purchase I'll let you go at 8:00 tonight. Gotta do somethin' cause you broke pretty much every rule in the book so you're grounded til eight. Make sure that map book says MOTOR CARRIER on it. The other one is for RV's. That paper your Boss gave ya? Ain't worth wipin' your arse with. You ain't got no license so unless someone with a license is ridin' shotgun you ain't legal to drive I don't give a gator's ##### in Slidell who tells you otherwise. I'm not supposed to let ya go but I'm gonna. Can't help ya once you leave here. Get pulled before ya get home and you prolly go to jail. I'm 'bout the map BOOK cause I don't care about you knowin' where you go but THIS one has the rules and such in the front." and he proceeded to show me. It had how to log, weights, Hazmat stuff, bridge clearances road restrictions, scale locations - everything. Freakin' awesome book for a self-taught.

"You need to know it better than the Bible and I mean no disrespect to Jesus on that, but this book (pointing) and that road (pointing) are where you chose to make your life. Better have TWO Bibles. One for Jesus, one for the road. Last thing kid - get the d@mn road test done and remember: Community Coffee and Boudain is da brefas of Champions all across da Bayou." I made it back without getting pulled, took the road test, passed, worked for Boss a while til paychecks started bouncing and quit Boss and went to work for Werner (trainer's dream - I could drive and already had stamina to hold my full 10 - back then- behind the wheel) and everything worked out well after. My Werner trainer - Hal, awesome guy w/ 12 years under his belt was actually more interested in training than teaming. Taught me some stuff about surviving OTR without spending all my money and I taught him some things about map books because I kept my promise and stopped at Tiger (they actually had a real Bengal tiger in a cage - so sad) bought a RMN Motor Carrier Atlas and consumed it. Studied it like a hawk. Knew it rote, verse and inside out from cover to cover.

I love all the modern gizmos and most of them have made a driver's life and job so much easier but to this DAY I can't be without a current RMN Motor Carrier Atlas (both the paperback - more detailed) AND the laminated. I don't care what my gizmo or company says to route - I clear it through RMN before I roll unless I have been there, know that and done it recently. And $20 in quarters when I roll. Despite the fact that since Jan one of this year (pet project of 2014 - checking pay phones) I have only seen maybe a dozen pay phones and of those only two had a dial tone. One was the TA on I-4 outside Orlando, FL and the other the old Lehigh off 77 in VA. Franchised out to TA now - what a shame, but they mostly still run it as the old Lehigh.

That's my first trip story; What's yours?

Thanks in advance for sharing.

 

Holy snap Dude! You did the Gap in a shotgun (no baffles to the uninitiated) milk tanker on 52? Homey - they closed 52 to trucks ENTIRELY for a while because it was just WAY too dangerous. They had enough of 77 built to get around the Gap and they wanted you on 77.

You got some brass one's for sure. Uncle didn't need you to stay awake. The Gap and back roads will do that in a second and more. I been all over and done all the big name one's out west. The Gap is short but it's like trying to drive vertical both up and down. No runaway ramps either. It was wall or gorge. Choose your demise.

Uncle took you for head sake. You get used to sheiz eventually but if you got someone you love with you, you stay on your toes better. Say what you want about Cabbage, Vale, Donner and the rest - the Gap will get you in a quick smart hurry and don't give a flitter about how many time you been up and down her.

Gap in a shotgun milk rig. Shaking my head in amazement but then again - that's how we got stuff where it had to go. Total "hat's off" to you AND your uncle. Load's gotta go. Folks depending on us. Gotta do what we do.

Still shaking my head over the Gap in a milk rig on 52. Sheeze Louise God Bless y'all.

Thanks for the post.

 

C'mon Barney - share. It was you, an Amish girl and Daddy's shotgun wasn't it? We know. It's OK - share.