Hi, I'm Snazzy and I'm Trucker

Alright Big Duker fasten your seatbelt, as Life Goes On.

Red was in his late 20's, but looked older. He was about my height 5'9", a little plump, maybe 200 lbs. Of course, he was red headed and had freckles. I was Red's first student and he complained because I looked older than he did. Well, I was ! Yep, I was almost 41 and looked 51, but felt 61. What a deal ! Anyway, Red had three problems. His first, was that he was going through a pretty tough divorce. He'd been married to another driver and they had been owner operators. Well, she got the truck and he got the suitcase. So, he'd hired on at Crook and after 6 months made trainer. His second problem, was he drove like a maniac. Yep, he speed, followed too closely, cut folks off, and suffered from road rage. His third problem was his worst. Yep, ole Red was a addicted to gambling. He could pass everything on the road but a casino. So, we headed out of Dallas on our first run. We were under a load headed to Shreveport La, to a Highs Hardware store. Well, that's what the plan was anyway. So, Red drove and I listened. Red was a TALKER ! Geez ! If Red's mouth had been a generator we wouldn't need nuclear plants.

So, we made it as far as the first Casino. Yep, that's where I slept until Elsie died of old age. I swear ole Red was the type that couldn't win for losing. He'd keep playing until he lost no matter how far ahead he'd gotten. It was sad, because Red never learned. I mean, I think he enjoyed losing. Well anyway, our delivery was a good 2 hours down the big road. Now, I was just a student and he was the trainer. So, I kept my mouth shut and let him do his thing. Well finally, he comes out around 5 am and you guessed it. Yep, he was all tuckered out and ready for the sleeper. So, I take the wheel and then I find out that our delivery was scheduled for 4 am. Yep, we were suppose to already been there. What a deal ! So, I did the best that I could. Yep, we swung in as the clock struck us in our butts. Red lied and claimed that there was a mix up with dispatch. Yeah sure, like he'd never heard that one before. Anyway, the problem was that the manager had about 12 employees on the clock. Yep, they'd all stood with their thumbs up their rumps drawing time and half. So, the manager let them off the hook and put us on it. Yep, because we were late, now we got play lumper.

I don't know if any of ya'll have ever had the privilege of fingerprinting a load off of a 53' footer. Yep, all of this assorted crap was on the floor and stacked to the ceiling. What a stinking deal ! So, Red raises a fuss and retires back to the sleeper. I'm standing there getting an ear full from the manager. So, slowly I turned, step by step, inch by inch, I sashayed back to the sleeper.

I yanked the curtain, " Hey ! I tell you what ! If you think that I'm going to unload that crap by myself, your as stupid as you look ! Either get off your dead asp, or I'm calling the office! "

Red gave me the look, " That's not our job ! We deliver it and they're the ones that are suppose to unload it. Now, if you want to help them, go ahead, but I'm going to sleep ! "

I'd heard enough, " Listen ! Your going to help me unload and then your going drive me back to Dallas ! If you don't, then I'll unload and drive myself back. It's up to you buddy ! "

Red looked scared, " You need to settle down. Now, get your foot off my neck and let's talk this over. "

So, me and Red unloaded 44,000 lbs of assorted hardware goods. Matter of fact, we were both so angry that we did it faster than the 12 employees could have. Anyway, Red admitted that he had been wrong and promised that things would be different. I agreed to stay on, but warned him. Yep, I needed a job alright, but I wasn't going to be anyones fool. Treat me right, or stay out of my way ! Yep, sometimes you have to stand up for yourself and remember. Losing a fight is better than losing your self respect , as Life Goes On.

Nightie night Snazzers, your Snazzy1.

 

This is the PST I drove for... this pic was taken just outside of Globe, AZ. I had to pull off the side of the road and let the brakes cool down (had a load of copper bars in the wagon).

 

Good picture lili and that door banner sure brings back memories, as Life Goes On.

Since Red had ticked off our dispatcher by being late with our load we were punished. Yep, we sat for a full day at a local casino where Red lost his $50 cash advance, his c.b. radio, and his shirt. Now, I wasn't doing any better than Red. I mean if your stranded at a casino there's not a lot to do but feed the machines. Anyway, I read up on all the poop about PST. Yep, Crook had furnished me with lots of reading material. Let's see, Crook had started out as lone trucker some thirty years back. Mr Crook's grandfather was a large property owner of several thousand acres of west Texas plains. Of course the land was worthless, until one day while shooting at some food, up from the ground came a bubble of 90 weight low grade crude. Yep, even the oil was a bit rancid, but ole Crook caught a break. He managed to find a refinery that would accept his crappy oil. Well, after grandpa Crook passed away, the next generation decided to go into the refinery business. Yep, they did pretty well, because all the oil they refined was crappy oil that nobody else would accept. Well, by the time the present Mr Crook became heir of the crap, it was a multi million dollar business. Yep, Crook oil would even purchase used oil to refine. You know, from the railroads and the sump traps from the gas stations where your oil got changed at. Anyway, it was probably the worse oil that was on the market. But hey ! It was cheap and there was a need. You know, you could buy a whole gallon for what a quart of good oil cost. So, lots of folks that had an old oil burner would buy that crap by the gallon. Yep, even some of the shady garages used it to change your oil with. Of course, they charged you for the high dollar stuff.

So, your asking what Crook Trucking had to do with PST ? Well, the Mr Crook that I'm gossiping about was just an old trucker. He put all of his shares of Crook oil in the bank and was happy just driving the 48. Well, that's until he got married. Yep, Mrs Crook was a money hungry, mover, and shaker. She ran the show and bought up several thousand shares of PST. Now, PST stood for Pacific Southern Transport and it originally was a small trucking company located out of Atlanta, Ga. Now, it grew and grew, and got bigger and bigger. So, Mrs Crook did well with her investment and managed to talk Mr Crook into retiring. Yep, they opened Crook Trucking and leased all of their equipment on with PST. Yep, they owned almost half of the stock in the PST company and then became the largest fleet owners there. So, what had started out as a one trucker show, turned into a big trucking business. Now, the killer was that old man Crook ran things like they were done back in the 50s. Yep, none of his trucks were going to have that fancy computer communication stuff. Hell no ! Yep, all the Crook drivers still jingled around the pay phones.

Now, there were only two things that I liked about Crook Trucking. First, was their equipment, I mean we rode in style. Yep, all Crook trucks were T600 Kenworthless, or Freightshaker FLDs. They were all double sleepers, with owner operator options. You know, jakes, cruise, full instruments, twin air seats, double stacks, and the rest. They all had their cat 360s turned up to 400 horses and were governed at 80 mph. Yep, we even had the sound surround system, with the dual a.c./heater controls in the condo sleepers. Now, the second reason I liked Crook Trucking was the freedom. We planned our own routes, fueled anywhere we wanted to, and could tell PST to kiss off. Yep, no forced dispatch ! The poor PST company drivers were treated like children. I mean it was sad ! They had to run practically terminal to terminal, or yard to yard. They had to sign in and out to even leave the fenced in jails. Now, for the bad part about Crook Trucking. They didn't pay eating wages ! I mean it ! They started you out at 5 cents per mile ! Yes, a nickel per mile ! Of course most of the outfits had turned into slave drivers. Yep, at a nickel per mile, while you trained, came out to about $300 per week. That was based on running team with your trainer and the truck putting down 6,000 miles per week. It slowly got better if you managed to move up to the next step. You know, after the trainer you got matched up with a another idiot that just finished with his trainer. Yep, two idiots aren't better than one. Now, during that time both idiots got paid ten cents per truck mile. So, averaging 6,000 miles doubled your pay to $600 per week. Then if you were still alive, the big bucks were offered. Yep, a whole 20 cents per truck mile, averaging 6,000 per week, came out to around $1,200 per week. But, you could opt to run solo at 25 cents per mile, and average around 4,000 miles per week, at about $800 per week.

Now, we all know that Barney doesn't run teams. Nope ! All I wanted was to finish with my training and go solo. Eight hundred dollars per week back in 1994 was plenty for me. I didn't have a family to support, a house payment, rent, car payment, or anything else. You know, I was foot loose and fancy free. The backside of forty and fooling around. What a deal, as Life Goes On.

Let's break Snazzers, your Snazzy1.

 

Good stuff Snazz, but hey, no 'nite nites'?

For whatever it's worth, for some reason, this post made me think of Nationwide. Go figure.

 

You teamed up with that carnival girl and ghost pretty good!

 

Nationwide? Crap... I drove for them too. Nationwide Truck Brokers that is... better known as NTB. Are y'all stalkin' me or somethin'?

The old piece of crap that PST made me drive back to Salt Lake, so I could pick up my new truck, was one that they were fixing up for their "new" lease purchase program. This was early 92 and the truck I drove back there was an 81 with almost 27 zillion miles on it. They were taking all the nasty old cabovers, slapping some ugly grey utility paint on them, and then trying to convince us company drivers to buy 'em... NOT.

 

Heehee, Nationwide is a song by the dudes with the long hair, beards, and a very sweet ride, lol.

 

First a big Snazzy welcome to Sapphirecat and I remember Nationwide as well. Yep, these post bring back alot of memories. Yep lilli, we're stalking you and we may have worked for the same PST. Yep, their home Terminal was in Salt Lake City after a merger with another outfit. They still had their Atlanta yard and about a dozen other drop yards located all over. Oh Duker, now you know that Carnival Girl and Ghost Chick didn't count as running as a team. So, let's see what happens, as Life Goes On.

Red and I were as different as night and day. He was such an aggressive driver that I actually felt that we'd be killed before I finished my training with him. Now, he was likable and really a good driver. Yep, if he'd just of slowed down and left the casinos alone we did pretty good as a team. Usually it took about a month for a student log his 12,000 required training miles. Yep, even with Red and I splitting our driving miles in half, I had over 12,000 in less than three weeks. Yep, we ran illegal and remember we still spent plenty of time and money at the wagering money pits. Now get this ! Ole Red was getting paid 20 cents for all truck miles and that came out to a pretty hefty settlement check each week. Something like close to $1,600 each week. Of course I was just getting that stinking nickel per truck mile. So, I was making about $400 per week, but man ! Yep, there I was making peanuts and ole Red was getting rich off of me. Another thing that rubbed me raw was the system was stacked against the student. Yep, ole Red always used my fuel card for advances. No! He didn't get his cash advances off my card. You know, those three $50.00 per week draws the company allowed for your living expenses. I'm talking about the truck draws. You know, toll fees, oil changes, flat tires, lumper fees, and such. Yep, all that was withheld from my paycheck. Now of course the company would reimburse the student. Sure ! Yep, they'd deduct that the minute the money was put on your card. Yep, in two or three weeks, you might see it show up on your paycheck. But, I learned not to hold my breath.

Yep, the whole system was designed for the student to quit. It was a slow torture. You know, your out there giving it your all and wanting to do your best. Then every payday you'd get kicked in the pants. Yep, you'd end up owing them money, or maybe clear a hundred bucks. Geez, and I thought the mafia was cold blooded. Anyway, the only reason I stuck through it was simple. Where else could I go ? I mean, from what I had learned it seemed that all of the major crappy companies were pulling the same ripoffs.Of sure if I could of gotten hired on with a decent company, I would have. But hey, I knew that with my past. Well you know ! Yep, and so did Crook Trucking and that's how they kept me strung along. I found out that I wasn't alone and most of the other students were kind of in the same boat. Yep, they either had something in their past, or were washouts from other companies. You know, they'd tried three other outfits and gotten shafted. So, they'd hop from one crooked company to the next. Of course it was the same ole story. You know, one crooked outfit is the same as the other. At least I was lucky and didn't have any bills to worry about. Otherwise I really don't know how I'd of made it. Now, I knew a secret that most of the other students didn't know. You see, when I slept with ole Water Balloons she spilled her beans. Yep, if I could survive my first six months then things would be different. Yep, I even got Red to confess. He'd screwed up with a good company. When he and his now x-wife had been leased on as owner operators he screwed the pooch. Yep, he'd topped out a brand new 13'6" trailer under a 13' no inch bridge. So, no decent company would touch him with a ten foot load lock. So, he stuck through his six months torture and really wasn't doing bad. Yep, so I decided to do the same. Yep, beat me, starve me, and call me crazy, as Life Goes On.

Let's break Snazzers, your Snazzy1.

 

I see that sassytrucker is still with us. What a deal, as Life Goes On.

I guess the one trip that sticks out in my mind the most with Red, was about two weeks into my training. We'd get dispatched on a load and then Red would hightail it to the nearest casino. Yep, he'd lose every penny he had and even try to borrow off of me. Yep, there he was raking in the big bucks and I was doing well to eat. Anyway, we had to repower a load. You know, some other driver wasn't able to get her done, or maybe there had been a mix up with the delivery date. The loaded trailer was in the Atlanta yard and all we had to do was drop and hook. Now the Atlanta yard was the pits. It was just a big field covered with Georgia red clay, that turned into quicksand as soon as it rained. Yep, a rare August thunderstorm had poured several inches of wet stuff and the field was just waiting to claim big truck victims. Anyway, we knew better than to even attempt to get hooked on. Yep, that trailer had been dropped at the very rear of the yard and even her legs had sunk down a good half foot. Now, the way those $50 cash advances worked was like this. You had to be dispatched under a load and ready to go. Yep, ole Red fudged and called dispatch claiming that we were hooked on and headed out. The hell we were ! Yep, ole Red bobtailed us to the 76 and we drew our pay advances. Then of course he sped us all the way to the closest casino. What a deal !

Anyway, I figured it would take a good 24 hours for that field to dry enough to be driven on. Yep, if Red had just been honest, I bet that we'd been given another load. Anyway, you know how Red was, so I belled up to the bar and drank free. Yep, I sipped and stuck quarters into the video poker bandit, as Red lost his shirt playing blackjack. Well, it didn't long and we were both as broke, as war refuges. So, I hit the sleeper and called it a night. Red called his mother with some made up sob story. Yep, she got off her deathbed and wired Red some more losing funds. Anyway, the next morning we headed back and hooked onto the loaded trailer. By then it was doable, but still risky. Our biggest problem was time wise. Yep, we had to beat feet and run like hell. So, I took the reins and ran like the wind, while Red cried about losing all of his shirts. Now, this load was 44,000 lbs of Strobes beer that delivered in Sack-Your-Mean-Toes, California. Yep, that put us going right over the Fruckee Scales. Anyway, I made good time and then Red took the wheel. Now here's the killer ! About the time we got to Sin City is when we were allowed another cash draw. All I wanted was a hot meal, a shower, and a pack of smokes. Oh no ! Ole Red was itching to donate to the casinos again. So, you guessed it ! Yep, ole Red lost his pants this time. Then he pulled a good one ! Yep, he claimed that it was my turn to drive. It wasn't and I knew something was up. But hey, who was I, just a student driver, and a pigeon for the plucking, as Life Goes On.

Let's break Snazzers, for some refreshments, I'll be back, your Snazzy1.