Hi, I'm Snazzy and I'm Trucker

Man 'O Man...what a deal?!

 

DIDN'T SOUND LIKE THERE WAS A LOT LEFT TO KICK.

 

Yep lilillill, sapphirecat, sassy, and Duker, ole Victor wasn't through with me yet, as Life Goes On.

I dove back to the truckstop and called PST. Yep, I was put on hold for half an hour. Anyway, the dispatcher managed to get me another appointment for later that day. I guess the shipping clerk had cooled off, or maybe his crew wanted a second go at Victor. So, just to cover my butt, I called Mother Ed and filled him in. I guess what shocked me was Ed's attitude. I mean all he cared about was that I get that load delivered. You know, never mind that he had a drug crazed student driver, that was out of control. Anyway, I decided to let things settle down and just leave Vic to himself. He managed to stiff leg his torn tight jeans inside and did whatever ? Anyway, the clock struck one and injured three others. So, I threw her in go gear and headed out. Vic was sitting. No ! Vic was leaning against the bottom bunk. Remember he couldn't sit down ! Anyway, the curtains parted and Vic's swollen lips stuck out. I really didn't want to even talk to him, you know. I was still pissed off.

Vic had to ask, " Your not going back there, are you ? "

I shifted to fifth, " Yep ! "

Vic made his demands, " Just drop me back off at the truckstop and I'll wait for you ! "

I doubled clutched, " Nope ! "

Vic wanted his butt kicked again, " Pull over ! I'm driving us back to the truckstop and calling Ed ! "

I'd had enough and parked on the shoulder, " Listen VICTOR ! Your going to shut the frig up and stay in that sleeper ! If you don't, I'll kick you butt off of this truck ! I've had enough of you ! You've pulled your last stunt with me. Now, if you want to fight, let's go ! I'm sick of you and all of your crap. Ed already knows all about you taking the truck for a joy ride and he's not happy ! So, what is going to be ? "

Vic's lips disappeared behind the curtains, as I retook the drivers seat. Yep, ole Vic was all strut and no go. Of course I did have an advantage. I mean at least I could see out of both of my headlights and my lips weren't swollen to the size of inner tubes. Anyway, I backed on the dock and had to unload all those tires by myself. Yep, ole Barney got a workout that day and looked blacker than those tires when I finished. But Hey ! I got her done and left empty with a signed bill of lading. Now, besides having to put up with my partner from hell, I had another problem. Yep, ole PST wasn't giving us any miles. We'd get one decent run and then sit a 20 hours. You know, just not long enough for our detention pay. Then we'd get a little hop and skip load good for 400 miles. Now here was a team truck not even getting solo miles. What a deal ! Then on top of that, almost every load was a driver unload. Yep, they were right about 90 % no touch load, I bet 90% of the fleet was running all drop and hook. Yep, me and old dumb bunny were fingerprinting the other 10%. Anyway, I was just trying my best not to kill Victor and to log my required miles, as Life Goes On.

Let's break for a shower Snazzers, your Snazzy1.

 

Frankly, I think you ought to tie Victor across the top of the cab... kinda like a hunter does with his slain deer. A few bungee cords oughta do it. Keep him outta the way and outta trouble, ya' know?

 

Gee Snazz, you take a really long shower. Not only did I accomplish that task in the past three hours, but I washed and waxed the cats (complete with a blow dryer. Don't worry though, the ER visit didn't take long,) balanced the checkbook, did three loads of wash, de-fragged the computer, finished my tax return, and baked seven dozen chocolate chip cookies.

But alas, the power nap is wearing off. Nightie nites.

 

It's Ducks ! Hey Snazzers it's Ducks ! Good ole Ducks ! Yep, Vic was a real pain in my backside, as Life Goes On.

So, things rocked along and I did my best. Vic licked his wounds and pretty much kept out of my way. We were still getting crappy loads, short trips, and low miles. Now, I'd been tipped by Red and Water Balloons, that Crook would screw their student teams by pulling a good one. You see, those outfits will have a time home policy. Usually it's like two weeks out and two days off, or three weeks out and three days off. Well what they'll do is keep you out as long as they can. Vic and I had been out for almost a month. We had logged close to 16,000 miles, but we were still about 8,000 shy of our required 24,000 student team miles. Now you know, for a team to average 4,000 miles per week is peanuts. Hell, Red and I, had averaged 8,000 per week and we goofed off at the casinos. Anyway, what the outfits do is to get you home and have you take your 3 days off. Then they'll run you back out, but run the pants off of you. Yep, they'll run you ragged and in less than a week, you'll have your required 24,000 miles. But guess what? Yep, they'll keep you out another month running 8,000 miles per week. So, your still being paid as a student team at 10 cents per mile. The outfits are screwing you out of your regular team pay. Yep, they'll claim that you haven't taken your upgrade road test.

Now get this ! Your out there with a 40 tons of death and destruction. Yep, running all 48 and making the outfits big bucks. But, they can't pay you regular team pay. Nope, you have to come back to their main terminal and backup between some orange cones. Yep, until you do that, well your just a student team driver. What a deal ! Anyway, I knew that if I didn't kill Vic and we ran one extra week. Yep, we'd have our required student team miles and I'd be able to go solo. No more Victors ! No more teaming ! A solo driver and fancy free, I"d be. Now, Vic surprised me ! I mean he only had one odd request. He claimed to have family in Chicago and if we'd get a load there he'd stay out that extra week. So, we did. Yep, we'd been dispatched to Salt Lake City a couple of times. That's where PST had it's main terminal and where all the travel agents were caged. So, I cut it up with our dispatcher and he had a loaded trailer. Yep, a drop in hook, from Salt Lake City, to Chicago. Yep, I did some math and we were looking good. Just a few thousand miles more and good riddance to ole Vic.

Now, it was early October 1994, and I had turned 42 on the road. Old man winter had come for a visit and had iced down roads. Now, I wasn't an old hand at ice skating. When I had driven for Blackie and Tarmac, I'd run mostly Southwest and Southeast. Oh sure a few exceptions, but you know what I mean. Anyway, I honestly don't think that Victor had ever even backed out of the projects on a rainy day. Yep, he flat refused to drive and I sure wasn't going to make him. You know, I mean it was better for me to slip and slide. At least I knew what I was up against. Anyway we, err.. I got her done. Yep, I hooked up to that Chicago bound trailer, and beat feet. Ole Vic was all cozy in the sleeper and I was tearing down the open road. What a deal ! Now, there was one thing that Victor had in our truck, that kind of baffled me. I mean, it was an old cheap black and white t.v. It didn't even work and it took up space. Now, Vic was always fiddling with it. No, he didn't even have it plugged in. He'd just play with it. You know, he'd take a screwdriver and remove the back, then he'd put her back together. Yep, he do that all of the time. I'd offered to go in half and buy new one. Nope, ole Victor would fuss over that set like it was going to lay some golden eggs.

Well anyway, I got us halfway to the Windy City and had pulled into a small mom and pop greasy spoon. It was a little off the main road. Yep, the State boys had shut down part of it, due to the snow drifts. Now, I noticed that all the locals there took quite an interest in us. Yep, there me and Victor were sitting down to join them, for their after service Sunday dinner. Yep, it was one big long table, with a white table cloth, and all the fixens sitting in the middle. The preacher blessed the bird and welcomed us to join in. Well, I knew Victor and it didn't take him long. Yep, before I could butter my biscuit, he tripped over his tongue. Snazzers ya'll remember the cartoon Peppie La Pugh ? The skunk that always hit on the girls and they recoiled out of disgust ? Well, ole Vic started hitting on a 13 year old virgin. No, not any little girl, this was the grand-daughter of the biggest old Sheriff I'd ever seen. Yep, ole Victor began licking his eyebrows and strutting his stuff. The little girl kept scooting closer to her mom and trying to avoid Vic's unwanted advances. Well, finally her big old grand-daddy had enough. Yep, he yanked Victor up by the nape of his neck. You know, how you pickup the cat right before it's getting ready to puke ? Anyway, just like in the movie ' It's A Wonderful Life '. Yep, where Jimmy Stewart and the Angel are tossed out of the bar. Me and Victor brushed the snow off and sashayed back to the truck. No we didn't ! I sashayed and he stiff legged it. Remember his tight fitting jeans ? Anyway, I wasn't happy. Now, I don't know what Vic said to that young girl, but it must have been a DO-SEE. Anyway, I didn't want to argue with him. You know, I mean what was the point ?

So, I went to put her gear and ole Vic was all worked up. Yep, he'd left his cheap looking Ray Charles sun shades at the crime scene. What a deal ! So, he stiff legs right back to the Clan meeting. Yep, ole Vctor was stuffed in back of the Sheriff's squad car. Well, really it was pickup truck with one of them dog cages. You know, where the blood hounds are usually kept. So, I followed the parade to the local lockup. Yep, them chicken eaten Pilgrams were measuring ole Vic for a rope necktie. Now, I guess your wondering why I just didn't haul buns ? I really don't know ! I guess that it was the fact we'd made it that far together. You know ! Just a few more days and it was all over with. So, while Vic was being kicked in, err.. booked in, I called Ed. Yep, Mother Ed even worked on Sundays. So, Ed left it up to me. Yep, I could dump Victor's belongings and leave him there, or bail him out. So, I sat and thought about it.

As I was totting his crap across the snow covered parking lot, my left hand slipped and white powder flew everywhere. No, it wasn't snow. Well, I guess it was. You know, street slang for cocaine. Yep, that old television set must of had a kilo stuffed in it. What a deal ! No wonder it didn't work. Anyway, that snow drift swirled around for half of a second and disappeared into the sunset. It took me two hours to unload all of Vic's crap. Remember ? I told ya'll he had the truck stuffed full. Anyway, so long, farewell, happy trials, err.. trails, to you, until we meet again, Vic be safe and be Kool, happy trials to you, and I hope your pants rot off of you.. What a deal, as Life Goes On.

Nightie night Snazzers, your Snazzy1.

 

BREAK ONE NINE BREAK ONE NINE
BARNEY DO YOU COPY? SAY MAN YOU AIN'T GOIN TO LEAVES ME HERE ARE YOU?
HELLO HELLO BARNEY--ANYONE WANT TO TALK TO VIC?

 

how 'bout it eastbound, what ya leave behind ya?

 

Sorry Sapphirecat that it took me so long here's 50 Snazzy points for waiting. Man, chocolate chip cookies sound good. Yep, Duker and Fred I bet that's why jails don't have C.B. radios, as Life Goes On.

I made the Chicago delivery and called PST. I did something pretty stupid that I shouldn't of done. Yep, I told the PST dispatcher what had happened to Victor. You know, I was just chewing the fat and cutting it up. Well, that stupid dispatcher somehow decides that he couldn't dispatch me. Yep, according to him, I was team truck, without a team. What a deal ! Now, I spoke real slowly and even held my fingers up to the receiver. You know, two, minus one, equals one, so I was a solo truck. Oh no ! The computer showed my truck number as a team truck. So, in my mind's eye, I could see the two fingers that he stuck up. Anyway, it went back and forth, and my white cheeks darn near got frostbite. Yep, I could only hope that in his mind's eye, he could see my butt cheeks kissing his lips. Anyway, I gave up and called ED. Yep, ole Mother Ed saved the day. Now, I don't know what he told that dispatcher. But hey ! I got every crappy load that was out there. You know, they were all short runs, over weight, fingerprint loads, going over hill and dale. Yep, and most of them were already late when I picked them up. So, anyway I grinned and bared it. You know, just a few more miles and that was it. I'd be a legal solo driver and have all of this behind me.

So, I'd been out close to six weeks, or really close to two and half months, depending on if you count that half a day off. Well, the final straw came with a load of junk mail. Yep, I'd requested my home time off some two weeks earlier. You know, the same ole lie about just one more load and I'd be Dallas bound. Well, there was a post office distribution center, right across the parking lot, from PST in Salt Lake City. I'd pulled that junkie old PST trailer across half of the country. Yep, her brakes were worn down to metal, her air ride hissed with leaks, her tires were bald, her lights didn't work, and she looked like a piece of crap. You know, all dented and scraped up. Anyway, I'd been promised, that if I made that last delivery, which was a no touch load. Well, there was a Dallas bound, loaded trailer, in the PST yard. Yep, it had my name on it and was waiting for me. So, I swung into the mail center and backed her on the dock. I lowered her legs and unhooked. You know, why they unloaded her, I'd go hook onto my Dallas load. Then I'd return and shuffle the empty trailer back. You know, I was ready to head home.

Well, I sashayed into the postal office and handed them the paperwork. The postal clerk gave me the bad news. Yep, this was a driver unload and that was that. Yep, I turned into the Hulk and threw a fit. I also threw the clerk's desk, his chair, a couple of mail carts, a forklift, and whatever else wasn't nailed down. I was so mad that I marched, * didn't sashay, straight across the lot and into the PST offices. The dispatchers were kept locked behind plexiglas counters, like monkeys at the zoo. I banged on the glass and stirred up the chimps. My dispatcher was young guy and easy to spot. He had the curliest hair I'd ever seen. Yep, ole Cotton Candy Head, what a deal ! Anyway, he sticks his paw through the opening to shake my hand. I grasped him by his wrist, with both of my hands, tried to pull him through the six inch circle. His arm must have been made out of rubber, because it stretched a good six feet. Yep, his face was all pressed against that glass, like a bug on the windshield. I was pulling like a Caterpillar at a tractor pull. Well, I finally let go, as he snapped back and flew across the room. Now, there were plenty of witnesses and I figured that getting fired was the least of my worries. You know, cops, jail, judges, and fines, all popped into my mind. So, I marched back, * didn't sashay, across the lot and junk mail flew like paper plates in a tornado. Yep, I got that BOL signed, dropped that empty trailer, and hooked on Dallas bound, as Life Goes On.

Nightie night Snazzers, your Snazzy1.

 

Hmm... Snazzy, they must have tightened up the security in that joint when you hired on. When I was there, the monkeys were easily accessible for a beating anytime a driver wished to administer one.

When I was a newbie, they gave me the same crap about, "yep, it's a drop 'n hook." Only to find out when I got there, it was a driver unload. Didn't take me too long to figure out that ALL grocery warehouses were driver unload. In fact, for the first year I was with them, I fingerprinted about 99.8% of all the loads I hauled.

After a while, I learned that accepting a load out of Crossett, AR, meant I was gonna be unloading some potty paper somewhere. And Sacramento meant pulling 2500lb skids of Campbell's soup at Albertson's. So, if there were alternatives, I took 'em.