MY EDUCATION: Johnston c.c., smithfield, nc

January 31, 2011

Mark Twain once said, "Never let your schooling get in the way of your education."

In that vain, I'm going to begin telling the tale of my education as I venture off to Trucking School and perhaps beyond if my ramblings carry me that way.

Being currently underemployed in the construction trade necessity prodded me to seriously consider other means of support.
Around Christmas time I started research into projections for different careers.
The dismal science of Economics revealed that health care was on a growth trend.
The catch was even decent paying entry level positions required 2 years of study.
I stumbled on studies revealing a decent future demand for truckers.
The plus side, a very short training period leading to reasonable future profit.

I started investigating trucking schools and was shocked when I saw the prices.
3-5 weeks of training at a private school amounted to $4000 to $5000!!!
Back in 1973, I paid $350 for a semester of 5 classes at the local Community College.
In 1979 a semester at a good private college cost me $3500 for 4 classes.
The value of the dollar has really dropped since then.

Having no savings or access to loans I looked into training programs being offered by the Trucking Companies.
I decided the employment contracts binding one to the company for 1-2 years, in exchange for training, were no better than contracts of indentured servitude.
The contracts were one sided favoring the company and reeked of possible abuse.
I could easily put myself in serious financial straights if the company decided to terminate me for any arbitrary reason.
Also, there was no guarantee that training at one company would be accepted as valid at another company if I decided to take employment at another firm.

I started looking into Tech schools and eventually stumbled on some good programs offered at Community Colleges in NC.
I soon discovered that most were private schools attached to the community colleges.
The courses were 5 weeks but the prices were at private school rates and no bargain.
I also found three that where offered at a reasonable rate of under $900.
The closest was Johnston C. C. in Smithfield a 90 minute commute from my home.
So I applied about a few days after Christmas and waited......and waited...................and waited.

I waited but also got proactive.
I picked up a free CDL manual at the local DMV and started collecting the documents I might need if I got accepted.
I studied the manual for a minimum of 1 hr every evening.

January 21 I received my acceptance letter from Johnston C. C. and called to confirm that I was in the program.
I had 5 days to get everything together for orientation on the 31st.
Time to get things in motion!!!

MONDAY: I stopped by the DMV office about a mile from my house.
I was informed that the written exam for the CDL learners permit could be taken there.
On the way out I noticed a walk-in clinic right next to the DMV.
I had never noticed it before.
I ambled in and learned that a DOT physical there could be had for $100.
I thought that rather high.
Further phone inquiry revealed that to be the best price in town.

TUESDAY: I stopped in the afternoon at the clinic and took the physical.
The doctor found my blood pressure was rather high and could only sign me off for 3 months.
At home research on the internet revealed that alcohol consumption, even in small amounts, can elevate blood pressure in some people.
I decided to cut out the nightly brews for a month and see if that might be the culprit....will have to get back later with the results.

WEDNESDAY: The weather had turned foul with a lot of rain.
I spent the whole day studying the CDL manual.
I also took a lot of online practice exams to see how I might fare with the real thing.
I was hitting 94-98 on the general knowledge, but about 74-76 on air brakes and 84-86 on combination.
Time to study harder!!
I knew I only had two shots to pass the exam: Thursday for a test and a retake on Friday if the first test was a disaster.

THURSDAY: Went down to the DMV to take the exam.
The state wide computer system was down...oh no!!
Thankfully there was a computer geek in there playing around with the equipment.
Eventually there was one test station working, phew!!

The results:
General Knowledge: 75 questions, 4 wrong.
Air Brakes: 20 questions, 4 wrong...ouch.
Combination:20 questions, 4 wrong...double ouch.

By the time I got 16 questions into the combination section I had used up all my wrong answers.
4 questions left to finish...NO room for error.

I got the last four questions correct and passed the test...WAH HOOO!!!!!

I think I sweated that test more than any finals I took for my BA degree.

Went home and tracked down my old paper SS card.

Everything is ready for orientation on Monday the 31st.

Time to celebrate!!!!

Go to the fridge...darn....got to watch the old blood pressure.




To be continued....

Cape Cod Drifter











Today was orientation at school and things got off to a really bad start.

 

January 28, 2011

"Don't stay in bed, unless you can make money in bed." - George Burns

INTRO:

Well I' m on my way to the Ivy League...of trucking that is.
I got accepted into the Truck Driver Training Program for spring semester at Johnston Community College, Smithfield, NC..
Johnston C. C. is the home of the oldest Trucking School in the U.S..
The program was originally started at NC State in 1949 and later moved to the Johnston campus.
Being the FIRST trucking school in the country it could be considered the Harvard for trucking education.
But I'm not going to cop any sort of attitude about that.
So, here's a tale of my continuing education and orientation day at trucking school


ORIENTATION DAY: PART 1

OVER THE WEEKEND:
I down loaded driving directions and a map to Johnston C.C.
They both went into a file folder with the rest of the documentation required at orientation.
Having never visited the campus, I visited the school web site and down loaded a campus map.
They even had a picture of the building I'd be going to.
The campus map went into the folder with the other papers.
The stack of paper was growing in the folder along with a growing confidence that I was fully ready for orientation.
Several days before I picked up new batteries for my inactive travel alarm clock.
Orientation would commence at 7:30 am on Monday morning.
The driving directions had suggested a 75 minute commute.
Knowing the route would take me through Raleigh rush hour traffic I set the alarm to go off 2 hours early.
That would give me enough time for a quick shower, a cup of coffee and something from the frig on the way out the door.
Estimated time of arrival: 7:00 - 7:15 a.m..
There' d be plenty of time to even find a parking space on arrival at a campus I'd never even seen before.
Just like a NASA launch everything was now wrapped up tight and ready for lift off by bed time early on Sunday night.
Anticipation of tomorrows events made for a restless night....it was hard to fall asleep.

MONDAY:

Then, my wife woke me asking if I was going to the Community College that morning...WHAT!!????
I started out of bed and stared at the alarm clock in the dim light....7:06 a.m....AHHHHH!!!!!!
THIS MUST BE A NIGHTMARE....I SLEPT RIGHT THROUGH THE ALARM!!!!!!!!
HOLY SH........no time for that either....or getting cleaned up....or coffee.......or breakfast.
Jump out of bed.....throw on some clothes....grab the document folder on the rush out the door.
Inside my truck I fumble with the driving directions for a last quick look at the exit numbers..
Fire up the truck...I'm off...SLOW DOWN MAN...cant get stopped for speeding or reckless driving.
Don't need THAT on a driving record.
This screw up is going to make me at least an hour late to orientation.
Not a good start for my first day at driving school.

Traffic is moving steady out of Chapel Hill on I 40 east toward Raleigh.
There are no delays by the time I reach the I440 beltway that skirts around the south side of Raleigh.
Take the I40 exit off the beltway and head east...take another exit...traffic is thinning now.
The speed limit notches up to 70, might shave some time, things are getting better.
Twenty minutes later I notice the belching smoke stack of the Harris Nuclear Power plant
Hey, isn't that way southwest of Raleigh.?? I'm suppose to be heading east on US 70 by now.
As a matter of fact I haven't seen any US 70 E markers for at least the last 20 minutes....UH OH.

It's off the next exit and pull into a gas station. Thank God, there's a road map in the truck.
A quick check shows the exit taken off I40 put me on US1 in the wrong direction.
Recovery mode...retracing my route might waste to much valuable time.
I frantically search the map to find a route across unknown regions to cut across the base of the triangle and back onto the right path.
I locate two State highways, both are single lanes, but they make the link across to US 70.
The new route only goes through two towns...how bad could that be?...I' m off.
Time begins to crawl at a glacial pace.....there are just too many stop signs, traffic lights and moms in mini vans.
Why do all the old people have to be out NOW for their leisurely morning drives?
The minute hand ground away like a millstone...it became almost unbearable.
I surely hope this isn't the way all my days play out as a professional trucker.
Everything always looks so much easier on paper than in reality.
Reality, really, really s...ks.

Eventually, I make the link up with US 70, but I' m running nearly 2 hrs late.
#### the torpedoes, full speed ahead!
I've made my final decision to make an appearance at orientation.
No matter how late I'm fully determined to press on.
I' m goin' to show my hand and play the long odds.
All they can do now is boot my sorry behind out.

At 9:06 am, I finally get to the campus and every parking lot is full to capacity.
Students are parking in a field across the street from the class room buildings.
My heart sinks calculating the time lost to find a parking spot and get to the Transport Tech building.
I pull into lot #3 in front of the Driving School building.
I can't believe my luck...there's an open space right in front, and it's not marked handicapped.
I pull in, park and grab my folder and quickly get out of my truck.
Two guys, with paper forms clutched in their hands, exit the building passing on the sidewalk in front of my truck towards the parking lot.
I inquire if orientation is over..."just about", they say.
This most definitely is not good. I press on apprehensively.
Approaching the front doors I notice through the windows quite a few guys hanging out inside the lobby waiting.
This bodes well, I though, at least the place isn't empty.

The great reformer and theologian Martin Luther once said, "If you sin, sin boldly."
So, taking that advice I put on a game face, casually entered the building
I spotted a door marked "office" and moved towards it to make my smooth entrance.
Just inside the door a tall, middle aged, black lady in neat business attire confronted me by name in a very officious, no nonsense manner.
I was taken aback by my first face to face encounter with Ms. D, an obvious big wig administrative official at the driving school.
Having never met her before, I was impressed that she knew me by name.
I meekly received her stern rebuke as she made note of my extreme tardiness .
I immediately give my humble apologies asking if I was no longer in the program.
She said no, my attendance was only an inconvenience.
She would have to do the orientation presentation a second time which would delay her lunch break.
I was curtly dismissed and directed to wait outside the office while she finished with the other 39 applicants.
Great, what a way to make first impressions.
This is not the way I want to make myself an outstanding student in my class.
What a relief though, I was still in the program.
With this sort of luck I should play my number today!!!

It was a long two plus hour wait, but, I had no grounds for complaint.
I wandered the halls reading everything posted on the bulletin boards.
I browsed through recruiting literature left by several trucking companies.
I drifted into the lounge and chatted with several of the occupants.
The benches in the entry foyer and the seats in the lounge slowly cleared as Ms. D efficiently did her work.
Eventually, I sat alone in the empty lounge.
I got up from my seat and crossed over to some large glass windows at the side of the lounge overlooking the practice yard.
I stood in the late morning sunlight streaming through the windows and watched as several very large trucks silently moved across the expanse of pavement.
They trundled among the many cones, barriers, parked tractors, trailers and other equipment under the confident easy manner of the instructors who spotted outside in the yard.
The student drivers slowly and carefully moved through their paces.
Up to this moment, driving the big rigs had seemed very intimidating and I had inner doubts as to whether I was making the right career choice .
While watching the slow backing and turning of the trucks I started to gain some inner peace.
Observing the slow dance of those giant steel behemoths it began to dawn on me that the challenge they represented would be quite manageable
Though indeed large, the rigs in the yard began to shrink in my mind to a size tamable by humans.
All I needed to succeed was good instruction and a lot of practice.
Time passed, the trucks continued their slow graceful movements, and I thought to myself, if those guys can do that...so can I.

Then Ms. D. was at the door snapping me out of my reflections.
In a clipped voice she sternly instructed me to follow her.
At a brisk pace we crossed the foyer, her heals clicking on the hard linoleum, and passed through a set of doors.
Then down a long hallway and entered a small class room to the right at the end.
Another student and his mom were seated behind one of the long tables that filled the room.
Ms. D. sat primly on one of the table tops facing us and immediately got down to business.
She launching into a quick delivery about what was expected of the students at the driving school.
Going through a list of dates, rules of do' s and don't s, she then quickly answered any questions.
It was obvious that her lunch time was not to be put off much longer.
A few minutes later it was off to an office down the other end of the hall occupied by an administrative assistant.
I handed over my documents for inspection and copying.
We worked through filling out some remaining paperwork with all kinds of signatures.
Money passed hands and everything seemed to be wrapped up.

I was then handed a small strip of paper with typed driving directions to a clinic.
Ms. D. imperatively instructed me that it was very urgent to take immediate action and get to said clinic for a drug screening.
She had called ahead and informed them of my arrival and that I should, by all means, BE THERE before it closed at 12 noon.
I asked if the test could be done at my convenience when I arrived back in Chapel Hill and have the results forwarded to the school.
But she made it quite clear there was no room for discussion or evasion.
I didn't need to push my position and make myself any more odious than I already had due to my tardiness, so I submitted to her will and authority.
With a smile, I quickly shook Ms. D's hand and again apologized for any inconvenience I might have caused.
She seemed slightly surprised by the courtesy and said it was quite alright. I was then dismissed.

Out side, seated in my truck, I looked at the slip of paper again.

I thought...this must be some sort of test.

I glanced at the clock on the dashboard.
I had less than 15 minutes to make a deadline to an unknown destination while driving through an unfamiliar city.
One misstep and I'd be truly screwed!
I hoped the directions were good.

Welcome to the world of Trucking buddy!

Cape Cod Drifter

to be continued.....

 

ORIENTATION DAY: PART 2

"Its been a rough day. I got up this morning .... put on a shirt and a button fell off. I picked up my briefcase and the handle came off. I'm afraid to go to the bathroom." - Rodney Dangerfield.

MY DRUG SCREEN TEST

I had my reservations about the driving directions I had received from Ms. D at the trucking school.
But the clock was ticking and I committed my self to conquering the unknown.
I exited the school parking lot with one hand on the wheel and the other gripping the slip of paper.
Scrupulously following every turn and taking note of each landmark given I proceeded like a modern day Ulysses towards my fate.
I got to the last landmark where the directions specifically stated "Turn left into driveway just before the Citgo service station into "Smithdale Plaza".
I didn't see any driveway just before the station or a sign indicating "Smithdale Plaza" either.
I glanced at the dash board clock...11:56...my time was almost out....the pressure seemed worse than choosing which door on "The Price is Right".
I committed to doing anything at this point and turned left into a complex of squat, rectangular, one story wood frame buildings.
There were several dozen of the ugly, seedy looking structures all exactly the same, size, shape and worn beige brown color.
The only distinct feature were the business names stenciled on each tinted glass door.
A few cars were parked here and there but not a living soul around to ask for directions.
I began to slowly pass through the crumbling parking lot scanning the names like a fox on the prowl.
Halfway down the block of building on my right, I spied the clinic's name on a door through a gap between two buildings.
Bingo!! I had it !!! But the clinic was on the other side of the buildings in front of me.
Up ahead, I saw a paved passage that circled around to the backside of the buildings to my right..
I quickly cornered around the block and parked across from the clinic.
I quick walked to the clinic door with the appropriate paperwork in my hand.

I made it...with 2 minutes to spare....Whooooh.
A slightly plump, thirty something, blond female technician in faded but neat hospital scrubs was waiting by the door which she locked upon my entering.
I found myself standing in a sparse and very small reception area.
Several uncomfortable looking, metal legged, chairs lined the right hand wall and a dark cheap, blockish desk stood at the far end of the room.
One look told me the school certainly believed in economy when it came to medical matters.
A young black guy, someone I had noticed in the lobby at the trucking school, sat sullenly in the chair nearest the door, like he was waiting for a chance to escape.
The technician escorted me to the desk where I filled out and signed the paper work and paid for the testing.
The technician quickly ushered me down a hall into a back room.
She instructed me to empty the contents of my pockets and place them in a lock box on a side table.
I took note of the rubber gloves she wore and hoped this procedure didn't include a body cavity search!
To my relief a plastic cup was presented and she pointed to a bathroom across the hall and instructed me to do my business in the proffered container up to the line indicated.
I was also instructed not to flush the toilet or wash my hands.
I enter the small, brightly lighted, white cubical closing the door behind me.
I unzipped and concentrated on the task.
Several long minutes passed ...nothing....several more long minutes passed ...then the technician, in a loud concerned voice, shouted through the door demanded to know my problem.
I apologetically confessed my stage fright and the inability to pee on demand.
My explanation being unsatisfactory she ordered me, in a firm voice, out of the bathroom.
She must have had some suspicion that I was tampering with the sample in some way.

I exited the bathroom and handed over the sample cup.
I was told to gather my things from the lock box and was sent back to the reception area.
The technician pointed out a water dispenser that stood in the corner to the right of the front door.
She then handed me a plastic drinking glass and told me I must not drink more than 4 cups of water then she went to the back room.
I walked over to the dispenser to imbibe from the great, blue tinged, inverted plastic water bottle.
While filling the glass I took note of a sign by the cooler.
It stated that I was to refresh myself with no more than exactly 40 oz of water.
40 oz....Good God...a quart is 36 oz, and I wouldn't think it healthy to attempt drinking even that amount in one sitting....they must think I have a bladder the size of a watermelon!!!
Showing restraint, I proceeded to quaff a cup to prime the pump then sat down to wait and let things take the full effect.
The sullen student by the door, in a soft concerned tone, asked me if vitamins would show up in a urine sample.
I said I didn't know but the way he asked it seemed like more than vitamins on his conscience.
The technician entered and informed the student that an instructor was being sent from the trucking school as an observer and should arrived soon, then she went to the back room.
The student got up and started pacing around the room like a caged animal occasionally glancing out the windows.
Then he drank some water from the cooler, sat down and fidgeted.
He was obviously nervous at the imminent arrival of the observer.

Soon, a neatly dress, well groomed, forty something man with a trimmed mustache appeared at the front door.
The technician came in crossed the room and unlocked the front door.
The dapper man entered and announced that he was there to act as an observer.
The technician instructed him to follow her into the back.

PAUSE FOR A NARRATIVE ASIDE.....

Now, I could easily delete or alter the next portion of this narrative to put myself and my actions in a more favorable light.
Even so, what I am about to relate is the absolute and shameful truth as it actually transpired.
Instead, I choose to reveal what an incredible and total A... I am.
Shockingly, I confess an unfathomable foolish death wish.
Unfortunately, I possess some deeply ingrained, impulsive, atavistic and instinctive lemming like mania that draws me over the cliff of social conventions to my utter destruction and ruin.
Perhaps, the young and socially inexperienced will receive some moral edification from my plight and take heed to avoid and shun my degrading acts of folly and indiscretion.
Indeed, my method of social intercourse is definitely not the Dale Carnegie approved method that will usher one to the pinnacle of social prominence or success but it will absolutely, and most assuredly, make you memorable and get you noticed.

CONTINUE NARRATIVE.....

I was sitting next to the door to the back room and just as the instructor passed near me to go through the door, I looked up innocently and asked him, "Are you here to hold it for us while we give our samples?"
He stopped abruptly, stunned like a steer struck in the forehead by a sledge hammer on the threshold to the slaughter house.
Turning his head, he looked down and glared at me with a very dark annoyed expression then huffed to let it be know he was in no way amused.
Recovering from his shock, the instructor gathered himself and stepped briskly through the door leading to the back room.
I'm sure that instructor is going to take a shine to me for that wise crack.
School might turn out to be a lot harder than I thought!
Then, the student who was sitting near the door resignedly rose from his seat with an even more sullen demeanor than before and walked through the door to the back room as if going to his execution.
I assume the student did what was required because in a short period of time the instructor stepped into the reception area, crossed briskly to the front door, and departed without a glance in my direction.
A short time later the student left also and I continued to sit and wait on my bladder.

About ten minutes later, a stout middle aged man came to the door and entered the reception room.
The technician appeared from the back room and the man said he was there for a random drug screen.
He was instructed to take a seat and wait.
The technician retired to the back room.
The man slowly settled into the seat nearest the door.
This guy look tired and worn around the edges, as though frayed by a life full of hard experience and toil.
He reminded me of a pummeled version of the actor Robert Blake, only much older and more lethargic.
Because he was in for a drug screening I speculated on the high probability that he was no doubt a trucker, and one of the old hands too.
Now, most people have interesting stories to tell if you ask the right questions so I struck up a conversation to test my assumptions.
He slouched back in the chair, then slung his right arm across the back of the chair next to him his hand pointing in my direction.
He leaned slightly sideways towards me and began speaking in a slow tired sort of way about spending 20 years in the Marine Corp as a non com.
As he told of his life the right hand motioned in slow circles, reminiscent of the motion of the trucks I had seen earlier in the practice yard back at school.
He told me of retiring from the Corp then spending the last 25 years as a trucker.
The hand continued it's slow revolutions as he told me that he resided in Smithfield now and with an associate made his living transporting cars for "snow birds" (retired yankees who summer in the north and winter in FL) from NY to the Palm Beach, Ft. Lauderdale area.
He stopped talking and the hand parked on the top of the chair next to him.

I told him I was currently a trucking student at the local Community College.
He gave a small wry one sided grin and nodded his head but showed no enthusiasm in the revelation.
I sensed he was no doubt thinking there were better options available then my new career path.
I asked if he had any special wisdom or advice to pass on to a new trucker.
He tilted his head back a bit, gave a long deep sigh, pursed his lips and pondered a bit, cleared his throat and shuffled a bit in the chair.
His head came down, he straightened and moved his upper body forward in the seat his right arm still resting on the adjacent seat back.
Then said, while nodding his head slightly and slowly up and down as if to emphasis each word, "Yah, there's a LOT of crazy people on the road so you got to watch what your doing out there."
I didn't respond to his insight expecting he was going to say more and I think he interpreted that as disappointment on my part.
He ####ed his head to one side then lowered it slightly as his shoulders gave a slight slow shrug.
He then raised his eye brows, while giving me an apologetic smirk, like he had said something really lame.
The right hand came off the back of the chair and gave a little gestured as if tossing something away.
I sensed a wish on his part that he could have offered something more profound.
But I thought, that's no doubt the very same conclusion I'm going to reach in 25 year too.

I'm getting my education

Cape Cod Drifter

P.S. I eventually gave the required milliliters

 

MY EDUCATION: INSTALLMENT 4
February 21, 2011

"I've had a wonderful time, but this wasn't it." - Groucho Marx

It's been many weeks since my last post but that time has been put to good use doing on-line research of the trucking industry and targeting potential employers. Due diligence uncovered several lists ranking the Top 100 For Hire Carriers, another list of the Top 250 and a short list of The Best Trucking Companies To Drive For.

I decided on the following criteria for culling through the lists to find potential employers.
1) No flat bed: too much extra work to tarp and secure loads for an old guy like me.
2) No tank or vehicle hauling: too specialized and most likely have few openings for newbies.
3) No Canadian firms: they tend to have few terminals in the US and border crossings are a notorious hassle.
4) No moving vans: too much heavy lumping for an old guy.
5) Most important: companies with a driver finishing programs that would help refine skills after graduation.
This narrowed things down to OTR reefer and van and if really lucky maybe a LTL or regional gig.

Eventually, a list of 32 companies hiring trucking school graduates in NC emerged. Twenty one of the largest companies in the industry came from the top 100 list and eleven other small or mid size companies came from the top 250 list. Only two of the 32 companies were on the list of best companies to drive for. Checking the listed companies on driver forums revealed who where the bad boys on the block to be avoided. As I worked on the project it dawned on me that the list might have commercial potential...contact me if your interested...my price is reasonable.

My research also revealed huge changes taking place in the nation' s transportation sector.
Since 2007, a slowing economy has produced a large drop in freight volume. This has created fierce competition that has driven down shipping rates, cut into gross revenues and reduced net profits. Revenue losses have been in the double digits for several years in a row and these market forces and loses have driven many companies out of business and financially shaky firms to be snatched up by the big players before going under. The industry as a whole has contracted as companies have merged. It's an business climate reminiscent of the days of the Robber Barons of the 19th century.

Efforts to survive in this economically unstable, cut throat Darwinian environment has forced draconian cost cutting measures. Labor, the largest controlled expense, has increasingly been ruthlessly targeted for cuts. Companies have deliberately avoided employee layoffs as a way of sidestepping increased en-employment claims that would increase their unemployment insurance premiums. Companies are well aware that workers who quit can't collect unemployment benefits. To force the issue on unwanted personnel, the unproductive or those perceived as problems, are targeted for removal and are subjected to "starving out" tactics. These employees are punished by increasingly fewer miles, spend long idle hours waiting for loads, or suffer under increasing deductions as their paychecks atrophy to a non living wage. Eventually, faced with the inevitable they quite in angry frustration as the company, unpunished, reaps the rewards. The remaining experienced drivers are also culled and replaced by an inexpensive, churned pool of expendable newbies. Few employees, with the exception of upper management, escape the process. Other payroll savings are realized by shaving down mileage pay, freezing pay levels, reduction or elimination of stop & lay over pay or flagrantly refusing to make good on or shorting any of the above. Even benefits go under the knife.

In light of an ever shrinking industry and labor pool even the "truck driver shortage" appears to be a crisis cynically manufactured by a money hungry industry. In sluggish economic times, with government agencies attempting to aid displaced worker, the industry has engineered a plan to shamelessly bilk tax payers. Huge sums of government money, meant for worker retraining, is funneled into scam company training schools. Those ejected from high pressure, short term, adapt or die programs are then saddled with enormously fraudulent fees and demanded to pay for unfinished training already paid for by the government. These unscrupulous companies double dip with impunity from a huge multimillion dollar money machine created to float the trucking industry boat as unprincipled executives, treating students and taxpayers like the rubes they believe them to be, shove their hands into the pockets of the unsuspecting to take what isn't rightfully theirs. Even the new CSA2010 regulations will work to the advantage of saving money for the companies. The rules will become a hook used to yank experienced drivers with blemished records from truck seats to be replaced by cheaply paid, no record newbies.
The last three years have been a bleak rough ride for truckers in an already hard profession. If ignorance is bliss one could easily ask why anyone with this sort of knowledge would willingly choose to enter this darkly scary Dickensian environment. As the economy begins to pick up the times may actually provide some dubious opportunities for newbies willing to gamble their futures. Then again, people of a gambling nature always manage to convince themselves they can either beat the odds or bluff to win.

Deal the cards, ante up...man, I'm feeling like a winner!


Cape Cod Drifter