Post Gordon ~ Thoughts, Commentary & Reflections

Interview with 111xx

111xx is a big guy, exudes strength. 8 plus years with Gordon. His issues are with Gordon, not HTLD.

Took 12 loads, 6 days to run 1600 miles last week. Out of the house 111xx had a 3-drop big box load that took 2 days to get off, for 167 miles and the first drop at 0400.

The load he's on now ran all of 125 miles and will take 3-4 hours to unload.

Will probably move over to Wal-Mart where the money is real. His 46 cents a mile doesn't amount to much if the miles aren't there. Feels Gordon has neglected the Mom-and-Pop accounts that made them, too focused on 1st tier accounts like Wal-Mart.

Says that Indy has 80 unseated trucks and they're QualComming for drivers to recover trucks.

Like an Exodus.

111xx has the same sadness that other drivers have expressed in their own ways, something important and meaningful lost. The key trigger to move on, though, is the low miles, short loads and pay.

Boy, does that ring a bell with me! I came to the conclusion that Gordon had multi-tiers where some drivers got all the miles they could handle and others got... not much. Some drivers I met while driving for Gordon even complained about too many miles.

Apparently that's not the complaint lately.



Written Thursday, June 26, 2014 from Oak Creek, Wisconsin. All rights reserved.

 

Drove All the Way from Indiana...

"Computer's down, can't load you," chirped the gal guard at the guard gate in Prairie du Chien. Last night it was a guard in Oak Creek telling me that they hadn't allowed overnight parking in five years. Yeah, the broker on that one's a little out of touch.

"And we don't know when, either," she said. "Could be later on tonight, we don't know. Might very well not be until tomorrow..." Okay, fine. That's trucking. I drove in the yard there, swung around and pulled back out. We haven't decided exactly what to do.

Well, we know I'm not leaving without that load, tonight or tomorrow. Whenever. A motel is possible. I texted Yard Boss asking what layover pay was on this job. He took it as seriously as he does everything else. Yard Boss said it had never come up, this has never happened. Would be willing to do something. Okay, something.

I could use a shower. The way we run, with full tanks of fuel at the start of the run so I don't have to stop at truck stops, my shower points aren't good. Empty, in fact.

And, you know, the idea of a truck stop shower doesn't appeal much. Had my share for sure. Never minded. Just doesn't appeal much.

Not sure what's fair here. Had the load been ready, would have gone over to Wal-Mart for the night. And if the load isn't ready for a while, say until later tomorrow, Pete's will be open. It's about the size of a small, narrow mobile home, about the length of a half set (usually 26 feet, two make a set of doubles with a con gear in-between).

Open only Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Only. Hamburger place. Downtown Prairie. On Blackhawk. Famous. Well, sort of. Hopefully better than the hand-breaded tenderloin I just had. Fort Mulligan's has great homemade soup, though. Waffle fries are good, too. Maybe try the fish sandwich.

Skip the tenderloin. Tough.

This morning the broker agreed to a small amount for driver unload, which I did with an electric pallet jack. And Yard Boss agreed to chip in about the same for the long-ish wait for them to sign my bills. Had the load off before my appointment. No detention, per se.

So we get $925 for the load plus $25 for the driver unload. Broker would have paid a little more, too. Lumper would have been more. But the $25 from Yard Boss and $25 for driver unload and Vic's fine. Give a little to get a little.


Written Wednesday, June 25, 2014 from Fort Mulligan's on Blackhawk in Prairie du Chien. Same place I was at the other night when I though I was at the Sawmill. Oh, well. All rights reserved.

 

A Close Call

Walking back to the truck from Fort Mulligan's the light changed as a cattle hauler slowly made his left turn. I focused on his turn because had experimented with 2nd gear while loaded with 44K on the way out from Indy, how to avoid the thrashing and bucking of the clutch-on-flywheel when heavy and trying to get back started from full stop.

What seems to work, seems to, is let off enough just for the wheels to roll and shift to third. The cattle hauler was on level ground rather than a grade, but I studied his turn. Nice and slow. About this time I sort of felt a tanker's approach from the opposite direction.

The closer-to-me tanker charged the intersection as the light changed, like he would risk run right into the trailer behind the cattle hauler. Whoa!! What's this clown thinking, I wondered.

Then just as I noticed a car following in the turn behind the cattle hauler I hear the tanker's air horn sound off. For my money, he was totally in the wrong. Used to be you heard a lot about 'who had the green'; more likely now, a different rule holds: the intersection is not yours, even if the light is green, until the intersection is clear. It wasn't.

It wasn't clear and the tanker was wrong. Thankfully, he was empty and able to stop a foot or so from the passenger-occupied car. Had he a half-load in a smooth-bore tanker, the surge from braking that hard would have pushed him into the car, then pushed him back, then pushed him forward...

When I got back to the truck, Tom from our shipper in Prairie du Chien called. I had left him a message asking him to call me if their system was back up and they could load.

"Forget it tonight, Vic," Tom said. "Maybe better luck tomorrow."


Written Thursday, June 26, 2014 from my fav Mexican restaurant near Wal-Mart in Prairie du Chien. Took a shower at Roady's, the truck stop in town. If this goes into another day, will have to call the neighbor to help out with my critters back in Indiana. And book a motel for me. Already authorized, even for tonight. Tonight I'm counting on the APU, which is what I would have done had the load been ready. Different story tomorrow.

All rights reserved.

 

Broody Little Hen Again

The broody little hen is still at it, guarding whatever eggs are underneath her in the nesting box. I put a second nesting box pretty much at the floor of the coop but it just gets tipped over. Not going to bother with either tonight--the broody hen or the nesting box.

There was lots of nervousness in Indiana over the 10 pallets I needed to pick up and couldn't because of the computer failure in Prairie du Chien. Apparently these 10 are even hotter than the 26 I had to make a special trip for last week.

Figured I'd call about 7 am Central but by that time there had been calls back-and-forth with Indiana. When I did call to the customer in Prairie, couldn't reach anyone anyway except a message that the gal who schedules is actually on vacation 'til Monday.

Figures.

There's probably an IT guy in Prairie and in St. Paul both, brushing off their resumes. What you get paid for in IT is for these things to not happen, or if they do, it's short. I remember once when 2 managers came into my computer lab, white-faced and scared. "Vic, the system's down."

From my desktop I could ping the entire network, which just means there's a simple way to see if the devices out there say hello or not. Whether they're 'up' or 'down'. After that I went over to my patch panel and as I did the 2 managers got really, really, really antsy and uncomfortable. "Can't you just come out and take a look, Vic?"

If I try to explain, it just confuses them, so I tell them I need a minute. They are about to explode, I can tell. And one of them and I do not get along.

"Okay," I said, pulling a cable out, "Your department's back up," and turning to the other manager, "You've probably had power fail. Let's go check it out." We did and we reset a failed power strip that got his system back up, got us back up. A gal had been running a small electric heater to keep her legs warm--caused a power strip to pop and temporarily blew out the network!!

They didn't understand anything about the problem: once that server in the one department went cold, traffic had no way through the rest of the network. Something stupid architecturally had been done long before I came there that made that part of the network a bridge to the rest. Just another on my long, long list of 'to do's'. At least the problem was short. She'll have to use a blanket, no electric heater.

The problem in Prairie du Chien wasn't short. And since I couldn't reach anyone in the morning, I had to just drive over and see if they could load me.

They could.

My lucky day, eh?


Written Friday, June 27, 2014 from home, six miles north of Spencer, Indiana. All rights reserved.

 

Smoked Perch, Walleye and Catfish

The Mississippi that runs alongside Prairie du Chien is up enough to flood some parts of Old Main Street and near to Old Main Street so they've moved the detour again for the sewer construction on Marquette, the main route, drag and thoroughfare through town.

After I got my Thursday load on yesterday (Friday), I made my way back toward Prairie's old downtown. The re-routed detour brought a bunch of us to the same turn in a residential neighborhood with narrow streets and we were all from different directions. I had cars and a truck behind me, the semi on the other side of the turn had cars and a semi behind him. The off-detour parts of those streets had some traffic, too.

Neither of us could back up or make the turn without one or some of us out of the way. The solution was fairly simple, at least for me. Not sure about the others. I left the detour, continued down another block and then turned back down and rejoined the detour.

About a mile further down the detour I swung off the detour again, and parked in front of Valley Fish and Cheese. Yard Boss asked for cheese curds and I could get both that and fish. The fishing boat was gone and the store looked dark. Too early, eh? "What time do you open?" I asked a fellow I recognized.

"Should be open now," he said. "Come through this door." The side door was open, he was smoking fish, left behind while the others went out to fish and the front door was still chained shut.

Back on the detour, I saw bicyclists that had collected Thursday at the Monfort popcorn store where I usually get a 75 cent bag of popcorn. My usual. The bicyclists're from Texas and going to Alaska to support cancer research and prevention. The popcorn store put them on its Facebook page.

You can check out the Texas 4000 web site here: http://www.texas4000.org/

Apparently it's a 501(c)(3) charity that runs this annual bike ride. The perch was gone by Fennimore, the walleye by Monfort. The cheese curds for Yard Boss and the remaining smoked catfish were in a cooler on ice. Told the gal inside the popcorn store that I had seen the riders in Prairie.

Also told her about my own bike trip, 16-years-old, bicycled from California to Minnesota, alone, sleeping on the ground in a sleeping bag, stopping at small diners that were the fast food of that day, where I would ask, "Hi, I'm Vic, from Los Angeles. I'm bicycling to Minnesota and I'd like to trade some work for food. Looks like I could sweep or clean windows..."

Never got turned down. Most wouldn't let me do anything.

"Sit down, kid. Your mother know what mischief you're up to???"


Written Saturday, June 28, 2014 from home, six miles north of Spencer, Indiana. All rights reserved.

 

3 Raccoons and an Opossum

Well, here we go, the big home triage battle again, where I struggle with the choices between all the things that really, really, really have to be done and selecting what I really, really, really can and will actually do. Top of my list today is get the other (I have two) '97 Mercury Sable off the car hauler.

The better one's up at the yard, has ice cold Arizona air conditioning and I recently R & Rd (remove and replaced) the starter. Same problem this one has.

Starter.

Except that it was probably locked in park when we winched it up on the car hauler and now even winching it backward, it does not move. So I hooked a chain to the frame of the Sable and to the frame of the 2005 International 9400i Eagle. That's fine and good but with all the rain we've had, a little too much off roading will get that tractor stuck for sure...

With the car hauler held in place by the old diesel F350, a good bump does the trick. Now I can at least get it to move backwards.

My neighbor showed up who helps with the animals when I'm gone for more than a few days and despite that I've moved the chain from the tractor over to the front of the car hauler, when all is said and done the Sable rolls about 10 feet behind the trailer. Of course.

At least no one's hurt if you don't count that scratch on my left calf. Okay, fine. That'll work. Will just pull it up where I want it with the F350.

Like any good lawn-mower-borrower neighbor, he brings up how good what he borrowed has worked. It's not got his lawn cut, of course, but he's caught and released 3 raccoons and an opossum so far and there's one left. It's been long enough I had forgotten about the raccoon trap.

Last time I did think of it, though, thought I'd just buy another.

They're under $30...



Written Saturday, June 28, 2014 at home, six miles north of Spencer, Indiana. All rights reserved.

 

Power Only

I've noticed the 'power only' section of the load board and wondered about that. Sometimes there are more 'power only' loads than van loads.

What is this all about?

Well, the broker tells me it's moving new and used trailers, sometimes it's an already loaded trailer, sometimes it's an empty new trailer and you have 7 days to deliver and can use the trailer to haul freight during that time.

Say what?? Or so I thought. Got me wondering...

See, for example, they've got 4 new trailers to North Carolina, to Charlotte, Greensboro... $1100-$1200 just to move the trailer 640 miles or about $1.70/mile or so. Now add ANOTHER $1.70 or $2/mile to that for a load to pick up and deliver to Charlotte and we've got game--or looks like.

Just for giggles I looked at Charlotte from Indiana, then looked at power-only loads in North Carolina, where I found good money to Jacksonville, Florida, where I found a $3,000 power-only from Jacksonville to Salt Lake City.

Called the broker.

"Is there more money available on that Jacksonville~Salt Lake City power-only?" I asked. You know, if all you have to do is back under and go...

"There may have to be," came the reply. "We're just not getting much interest. Are you in Jacksonville?"

I admitted I wasn't and was just hypothesizing, making hypothetical connections in the clouds that very well would not be there tomorrow or Monday. He explained that our insurance has to cover non-owned trailers. Sometimes he runs into outfits that have been doing this a couple years already and weren't properly insured. Had just been lucky.

Still, that's interesting isn't it--at least in concept. Get $3 or better per mile moving trailers around the country.

Get your triangles set up before you leave out.

Figure out how you'll get home. Indiana's a good place to start with Wabash and Great Dane made here. Every time I'm up through Lafayette there are these huge, huge lots. Sometimes it's mainly ODFL, sometimes AmeriFleet, you name it, all the regular flavors you know and see on the road. Trailer after new trailer after new trailer.

Stay tuned.


Written Saturday, June 28, 2014 at home, six miles north of Spencer, Indiana. All rights reserved.

 

WARNING!! Graphic and possibly disturbing description of a truck wreck follows. This is fiction based on an actual event. Fiction, nevertheless. Fiction.

Hi TruckDuo,

In addition to what I PMd you, I've some ideas, thoughts around some plot lines that could be put together with this... trucking STUFF. So I'm writing stuff, my 'stuff' since Gordon, sometimes often, sometimes not. Just stuff. As far as I know, no one has written the definitive work life of a trucker.

I'm more than a little haunted by the Seward driver who went into the bridge support on I-74 eastbound a while back.

No skid marks.

I compare that to the wreck recently south of Baxter Road I-39 southbound, truck driver has been charged, one dead on the scene, others hospitalized. Media reports say failed to slow for construction zone.

Lots of skid marks, remarkably faded in a short time on the travel part of the lane. The skid marks were there. I saw them. Can still see them on the emergency apron beyond the fog line.

But there were no skid marks on I-74 and he went straight in when he was almost on top of the bridge support. He could see it from MM 20. Who was he talking to on his cell at Indiana MM1-MM20??

His dispatcher? His wife? His ex-wife? A bill collector? An attorney? His landlord? Who??? Did he speak to just one person or several??

Or did he use his phone at all?

Did his voice stay steady while a rage grew within? What happened in the 20 minutes or less between that first Indiana Rest Area that he probably passed right by? When did the fatal idea take form, root in his mind, decision made?

I imagine him in a rage, turning the headset off, throwing the Parrot into the bunk, shouting into the phone, moving over into the inside lane. From MM20 the bridge support becomes more and more visible like a target rising into cross hairs.

All it took, if that's what happened, was a flick of his wrist. Did he stand up? The force pulled the trailer bulkhead and sides up, ripped them from the trailer floor, and rode over the tractor frame, as the upper cab and the trucker's life disappeared like a bug into your windshield, crushed as the load spilled forward toward the bridge support.

I was close by at each of these, look for each of these, the changes, each time I pass by. Think about what happened. Might have happened.

What part of a larger trucking story these might be, could be, maybe should be. Maybe it happened completely different and I think about how to possibly write it... differently.

Dunno. Maybe it will be and maybe it won't.

Vic


Written Saturday, June 28, 2014 at home, six miles north of Spencer, Indiana. All rights reserved.

 

A Small Opossum

The excitement at my place last night was a small opossum. Heard a thrashing, saw some movement from my bed. I've got some glueboards out and at first thought I'd caught a really, really angry deer mouse. They carry hantavirus--don't want 'em. Sorry.

No, once I'd gotten a light over there, a small opossum, mostly head and tail. A good, foot-long tail, large head for such a little one, no more than 4-5 inches plus a 3-4 inch head. Probably should have disturbed him with the 'other' end of a broom or something, make it play dead. Just put a light on it and proceeded in my usual, step-wise fashion, to block up one exit.

While I did that, it must've left. I had my cage, my leather gloves and now I stood there barefoot with no pants on and a missing opossum that probably has siblings nearby. Brought the dogs in, nothing. They just went to their spot below the worm bins and curled up. Even walked them around.

Nothing.

So I put the dogs back out on the front porch where they could bark away any raccoon or l-a-r-g-e opossum from the chickens in their coop.

Left the back door open, which I usually do anyway. So it could leave on it's own. Thought I would run into it or another one while running the brushcutter today. Didn't.

You know, if you look at what they eat, the variety and range, from bugs, small rodents, ground eggs to leafy things, to snakes--well, I would just as soon have a snake or two around--but otherwise, dunno.

I just remember how gently the gal at Wildcare picked up the last one and brought it out of the cage I brought it in. (I had a small wrestling match with it, in comparison.) Gently. She picked it up. Moved it. Gently. Big gloves.

That's the ticket. Gentle.


Written Sunday, June 29, 2014 from Gosport, Indiana. Had broccoli-cheese soup. All rights reserved.