well you did the right thing by staying out so you can keep going. im just killing time today. i start my tanker training in the morning. looking forward to it.

Tanks? You're a better man than me... I'll stick with the lazy man's wagon—a 53' dry van.

Good luck on your training.

__________________
This is NOT the Daytona 500... you don't win a prize for being first.

im happy to just get back in after being out so long. i'll do this for the next year while my daughter does her last year of high school. you know how it is. you seem to be doing great with getting back on the road. i am looking forward to closing my shop and hitting the road, so this is a good start.

LOL... yeah, I know all too well how it is. Only for the next year huh?

I've always said, "Driving trucks is like shooting heroin... you know you shouldn't, but you just can't help it."

It's an addiction.

__________________
This is NOT the Daytona 500... you don't win a prize for being first.

well for the next year with this company. here in vegas. we will move to phoenix after that. they have a plant outside of phoenix. maybe i can get transfered. at least i'll have some recent experince to put on an application.

Sunday September 28, 2008

The stars have aligned and it's once again time for another update.

Yesterday was my birthday—I have now been a drain on society for 44 years. In celebration of this fact, my wife and kids decided to let me buy them all dinner at a swank restaurant in Andalusia—Larry's Barbeque.

It was about 3 o'clock in the afternoon when we arrived and the place was packed... with empty tables and chairs. We selected a table well away from the other three guests, so as not to disturb their dinner with out raucous party.

After a few minutes, the waitress came to take our drink order and I thought to myself, "Run... run fast and far... for you know not of the hell that is to come!"

It's a rare (and probably good) thing, that all five of us get together at a restaurant. We usually confine our dining activities to the drive-through—it's less stressful on the other patrons that way. Today, however, there would be no refuge from the assault of the Harper family.

And so it began...

My oldest daughter, 15, is the sweetest... and most naive girl you'd ever want to meet. For some reason, she's never outgrown those four-year-old type of questions that make parents squirt milk out their nose. I dunno, maybe she's just a natural born comedian.

The food arrives and she pipes up, "Mom... do chickens have nipples?"

My wife, also known for her sarcastic sense of humor, replied, "Of course they do. How else would they get the milk out of there?" and then adds, "But don't worry, they drain the milk out of them before they cook them."

That was it... the half-chewed mouth full of barbeque pork that I had been desperately trying to swallow since she posed the question, was now threatening to either be sucked down my windpipe, or be forcefully ejected across the dining room. I was laughing so hard, the tears were just streaming down my face. Yep... once again, we were the center of attention.

My wife and daughter were still discussing the fact of chickens having nipples when a very quiet and, from all outward appearances, straight-laced family sat down next to us. With the exception of my band of hooligans, it was so quiet in there you could have heard a pin drop. I'm sure they were impressed with the depth and intelligence of our family discussion.

I think I'll bring a video camera next time... it'd make great youtube material.

__________________
This is NOT the Daytona 500... you don't win a prize for being first.

happy birthday!!! glad you got to spend some time with your family!!

My hat is seriously off to you sir for having the intestinal fortitude to see past your challenges and take action. If you don't stay in trucking, I think you have a real future in writing.. lol.

Like you, I had a CDL, let it lapse and have to start all over. I only drove bobtail trucks as a secondary function of my job in the past. I now reside in SoCal since Jan this year (following a breakup/divorce of a 21yr marriage) and have only worked 3.5 months # $10 per hour, washing/detailing HD's at a dealer (just laid off 2 weeks ago). My 401k funds are almost depleted and something has to happen as I have child support to pay.

I took that step yesterday and enrolled in a truck driving school to commence training on 10-13-08 for 160hr's of training. It looked real promising at the school as trucking co. recruiters were coming daily. I have wanted to drive big rigs since 1979, but life and other careers got in the way. I'm almost 50 and starting life over now and want to have some kind of future, even if it's not a Donald Trump future.

I'm here and on Wikipedia to learn as much as I can about trucks and trucking.

Again, best of luck to you sir and you are an inspiration to me!

Thursday October 2, 2008

Greetings from Spartanburg, South Cackalacky! Sitting in a door at HC Brill gettin' loaded up with brownie mix or something similar that smells REAL damn good. Went inside to sweep out the trailer and now my mouth is watering and I'm hungry for some chocolate cake. There was a whole dumpster full of cake mix... mmm, mmm good! I'm sure the employees get sick of the smell after a while.

So Tuesday, I got a bit lazy...

I loaded up Newman's Own sauce in Atlanta and headed for Norfolk. Yesterday, I was within 30 miles of my destination when I had to cross the scales on US-58 just outside of Norfolk. As luck would have it, I got redlighted for being 1700 lbs over on my trailer... Oops!

Thankfully, she let me slide it and try again. Now usually I set the axle so it's right under the rear of the load. This time, for some odd reason, I forgot to slide it. I won't be so lazy next time for sure—that was a close call!

Anyhow, time to go sign the bills and skate outta here. Jacksonville, MS tomorrow...

__________________
This is NOT the Daytona 500... you don't win a prize for being first.

Saturday October 11, 2008

Be forewarned... this one is LONG.

I don't know what it is about Fridays, but they always seem to suck for me. Two Fridays ago, in Jackson, I spent a majority of the day dealing with the buttwipes at Merchant's Food Service and consequently got home late. That place is now on my list of places I will NEVER go back to. Funny how that list is mostly grocery warehouses.

So, yesterday, I found myself in New Orleans down by the port. I hadn't been down there since 1991—it kinda looked familiar, but not really.

The bill of lading on the load said it went to Douglass street. I programmed the address in my GPS, then fired up Google to see what the satellite view looked like—um, kinda residential. So I call the broker... she hooks me up with the automated direction line which says the load is going to Tchoupitoulas street, or, as I wrongly assumed, the port of New Orleans.

At 7am, I show up at the port, hand the guard my paperwork and he directs me to go down to truck control. After waiting there quite some time, I found that the load does not go to the port after all, it goes to a warehouse on Tchoupitoulas, right OUTSIDE the port. Well crap...

The left turn out of the port, onto Tchoupitoulas, was the start of bad things to come. I finally just had to force my way across—traffic down there is crazy. A little ways down the street, I saw the warehouse—one of those ones with the sidewalk loading docks that are parallel to the street. Unfortunately, I was facing the wrong direction and would have to find somewhere to turn around so I could join the line of trucks waiting on the sidewalk.

I tried unsuccessfully to get one of the other drivers on the radio, to ask where they turned around at—playing frogger in the traffic didn't look like a viable option. No answer, so I wander down the street, looking for a parking lot to U-turn in. None... anti-truck chains and parking curbs across all the lots that might have been big enough.

I made it a few miles down Tchoupitoulas before I came to the conclusion that I was going to have to find a side street and go around the block. Again, signs... "No Trucks"... "Not a Truck Route"—seemed like every street had a sign, until... YES! SCORE! A wide enough street that didn't have a sign.

Well, it sure didn't take long before I realized the predicament I was now in.

WHACK!

...went the tree branch on the top of the truck.

CRAP!!! Double CRAP!!!

Live oaks lined the street and the branches were getting lower... and thicker! Not to mention the fact that cars were now parked on both sides of the street—oncoming cars were having to pull into driveways or go down side streets—there was no room for them to get by me.

Now I was starting to sweat a bit—it was reminding me of my first, disasterous trip in to Brooklyn. I made it to Saint Charles street which I THOUGHT was a truck route... NOT! I managed to make a left turn, coming inches from scraping a traffic light on the side of the trailer. I could see from the dented visor on the light that another truck had not been so lucky. The only thing running through my mind at that time was, "Geez, I hope a cop didn't see me get that close and then blame me for that." Nevermind the fact that I was driving a 70 foot long tractor-trailer down a street that people were clearly not used to see big trucks on—the looks I was getting—priceless!

Saint Charles street was really no better, and in some ways worse than the other street. The tree branches were just as low, but some of the branches were extremely large diameter—real fiberglass busters. It was time to admit defeat... I called 911 and asked for a cop to direct me out of there, before I dug the hole any deeper.

To be continued...

__________________
This is NOT the Daytona 500... you don't win a prize for being first.