Life on the Road - Trucking News Blog

Navistar International has honored engine parts maker, Elgin Industries, as a Navistar Diamond Supplier, one of 37 companies to earn the commercial vehicle manufacturer’s award for product quality, delivery performance and cost efficiency. As reported at – Truckinginfo.com, the coveted award was presented on July 21, during a ceremony in Naperville, Illinois.

The president of Elgin Industries, Bill Skok, said:”We are thrilled to have earned this important distinction from one of the world’s leading vehicle manufacturers. Diamond Supplier status is a highly respected quality and service benchmark. This honor belongs to every member of our global sourcing, engineering, manufacturing and customer service teams.” Elgin has been a key supplier to Navistar for more than a decade. The company’s OE product portfolio for the commercial vehicle industry includes push rods, king pins and a variety of other fully machined components and systems.

In other exciting trucking news – Steve Sturgess, the Executive Editor along with Tom Berg, Senior Editor of Heavy Duty Trucking (it took two of them? sorry) “reports” that Navistar International’s third-party testing has proved that its ProStar+ tractor with a 2010-legal MaxxForce 13 diesel is more efficient than two major competitors when both fuel and diesel exhaust are counted. You can read all about it here: http://www.truckinginfo.com/epa-2010/news-detail.asp?news_id=71126&news_category_id=61

Well, Life On The Road readers, that’s all for now. Drive safe and watch out for the other guy. And remember, if you’re not rid’n Navistar or read’n Truckinfo.com, you’re not truck’n!

By Renee Jones Schneider, Star Tribune

Every time there is a truck crash the subject comes up. It has fueled many discussions from truck stops to the Federal Government. Truckers, like the ones in the article say to sleep when you’re tired, no amount of money is worth your life, etc… But every driver has done it. Either being forced to by a load under pressure or a case I have been in several times when you’re loaded in the afternoon and still have to drive 10 or 11 hours. It’s tough to find a parking place after midnight. Parking is few and far between especially out east, even the illegal spots are taken.

Don’t you love these headlines?

Weary truckers pose a highway threat
By JIM SPENCER, Star Tribune
Last update: July 22, 2010 – 3:01 PM
Before he crashed his semitrailer truck in a midday accident that killed two people, Jason Styrbicky had been driving all night. At the accident scene, Styrbicky appeared so tired that the State Patrol ordered him off the road for 10 hours.

You would think he’d be off the road a little longer due to the fatality, drug testing and the fact his truck was probably banged up a little. That doesn’t really make sense, but it’s made to sound dramatic.

The issue always comes up and always blaming the driver. One sentence I read in this story, I have never seen anywhere else.

Yet fatigue drives regulatory debates, including whether to impose driving restrictions and whether to pay truckers by the mile or the hour.

Most of the time, including the rest of this article is spent talking about fatigue, rest and in other places even sleep disorders. Thirty seconds into the video the journalists mentions that the numbers of truck fatalities have been going down since 2005. Then he moves into the airliner comparison. Which number are people going to remember and care about?

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Huddle House. Franklin VA. I haven’t eaten all day. So much for a health regiment. I arrived at my receiver this morning and, what else, waited until the rocket scientists there could figure out how to get it off my trailer. There was no pre-trip sent. At about 2:30 pm, I sent a message. Since I have nothing in my truck and there is absolutely nothing around as far as services (no Subway or anything) where I am, I said I’m moving to the nearest truck stop. Well, the closest one I could find was one off US58 in Franklin about 45 minutes west. It’s a BP station that is not being boycotted with a Huddle House on the property. Across the street is a Wal-Mart that I refuse to shop in. I don’t care if there are trucks parked over there. Here, there is space for about five trucks. Hourly  is allowed. Yeah right, I’m here for the night.

I go in the Huddle House. My “old self” used to love this place – big juicy cheeseburgers, salty sweet potato fries and sugary key lime pie. Top it all off with a large strawberry shake with whipped cream and a cherry on top. But I don’t eat that anymore. I looked at the shiny plastic menu. The only thing I could order would be a small side salad or a club sandwich. The three folks, a older gentlemen and two teenagers were on duty. The ‘”short yellow bus” must have dropped them off just before their shift started after lunch. I could instantly tell there was not much brain power going on here. One of them was “doing” the garbage wearing plastic gloves, but didn’t change them when going to back to handling the food. The “chef” at least seemed to have clean hands. I used the rest room to wash my hands and there was a notice asking if anyone had any information about who “trashed” the men’s room two weeks ago, they should contact the “unit” manager. No reward, yet.

So I order the club sandwich. The “waiter” asks me “Crispy or grilled?” Crispy or grilled? A club sandwich? A new “country” thing perhaps? Who knows. I say I want a club sandwich. The kid says, “Yes, sir”, and points to the chicken club sandwich photo on the menu. Thank goodness the Huddle House menu uses photos or their employees would never know what you wanted. I say that’s a chicken sandwich. “Isn’t what you want?” No, I want a club sandwich. It is on the menu on page three. The problem is, there is no photo of it. “Oh”, he says and amazingly writes something down on his pad and takes it up to the old chef guy. He studies it. The other person working there as part of this trio – a girl with a hanging belly – she’s not pregnant – comes over to assist in the effort. Confusion and anxiety ensue.

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“No driver, I don’t think so. You are a moron and you don’t belong behind the wheel of a big rig. You need to find a job where you can use that vast brainpower you seem to believe you have. I suggest an assembly job, in, MEXICO! Now move that truck out of my way or I’ll surely do it for you.”

“Take I264 go thru tunnel, cross drawbridge, rd will bear rt around curve, do not go straight, bear rt as rd straightens out, go 1/4 mile to XT10 right to Tidewater Drive, merge, go to Cromwell Rd, go left and follow and turns into Ingleside, stay left get in left hand lane on lhs brown bldg.”

“The load is ready at 3pm.”

I’ve now been back in trucking, hum, let’s see, about three whole days – 36 hours. I left the house on the bus – the Greyhound bus – Sunday. I survived the trip, barely, with no sleep. Spent all day at the terminal on Monday listening to whiny drivers moan, groan and complain about everything. Got the new truck. Company, meanwhile, was confused on whether the DOT physical I spend $80 on was good “enough” for them to let me drive. I did a piss test at some really creepy clinic in downtown Birmingham. APU on new truck breaks down – spent two hours getting loose wires repaired at Thermo King dealer. Tuesday, they’re still confused about my driving. I could have stayed home. They finally ask me to go pick up and shuttle some MT trailers. No problem. Good opportunity to test drive the new truck with a different transmission than I ‘m used to. New high tech talking QUALCOM has no instruction manual. It talks to you, and I can’t shut off the annoying female voice.

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Welcome aboard Greyhound bus #6549 from Clearwater to Tallahassee FL. It is now 9:12 pm. The temperature outside is 92 degrees and inside the bus, I’d say it’s about 42 degrees. I’m frozen. I’m glad I brought a small blanket. I really need a thick winter sleeping bag from Land’s End or Cabala’s. There is no possible way to sleep. It’s like being inside an igloo. The few people that are asleep are either exhausted, because they boarded at places way further South before me, like Miami, or because they’ve eaten so much McDonald’s and Church’s Fried Chicken they’re in a cholesterol induced coma.

Since departing, we’ve stopped five times, not to pick up or drop off passengers, but to allow people to eat and smoke. It is now 9:26 pm and I’m not sure where we are, but we are stopping once again at a Chevron station with a, yup, Church’s Fried Chicken – grease city. Oh wait a sec, we’re getting a location, OK, we apparently are in Chiefland FL and the driver, with a heavy Spanish accent, is advising us that we will not be allowed back on “de” bus with alcoholic beverages. He tells us the next bus comes in 24 hours. And he will call “de” law if he finds out that anyone has “sneaked” a brew on board. I elect to remain on the bus to continue writing. I have bottled water and protein bars in my carry on for the journey.

The rest room, which is about five rows behind me, and despite the frigid temps, is already beginning to smell like an outhouse. I wouldn’t even want to touch the Purell hand sanitizer dispenser that Greyhound has conveniently attached to the door. The passengers are the typical Greyhound bus riders. On board, we have one crying baby that, thank goodness, must have been given something like a tea spoon full of Nyquil or something to shut her up. There are the usual “alkies”, some look like they’ve just been released from rehab somewhere. There is one Black dude in a business suit. I don’t know what his deal is. He is wrapped up real tight in his jacket and completely dead to the world, except, of course, when we stop for food.

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I will say this. There are some really great people in trucking. I’ve been fortunate enough only to meet a few. A handful of them work for the company that I drive for. I don’t mention them by name or position, because I have to keep some separation between this blog and my job. So I’ll just say that one of these good people called yesterday afternoon to say that, and I so hope that this is true, there will be a new KW waiting in Birmingham for me this Monday. A bus ticket will be waiting at Greyhound for me this Sunday.

I have taken many bus trips in my lifetime. I was on a bus from downtown Singapore to somewhere in Malaysia. Chris and I stopped along the way at some tiny hole deep in the countryside and had a icy cold bottled Coke and chips. A little girl walked up and offered to sell us a little charm. I looked down. It was a Nazi swastika. With all the beauty and majesty surrounding us, this innocent girl wants us to buy this horrible symbol of murder and persecution. I later learned that for 3000+ years this same symbol for Buddhists and Hindus mean life and good luck.

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I was told that there will not be a truck available to me until sometime next week. I’ll have to Greyhound it to Birmingham to pick it up. At this point, that’s fine with me. It’ll give me a chance to read the book I’m really into and let someone else do the driving for a change. But let’s discuss the downside and absurdity of the situation. I’m not getting paid. It’s a trucking thing.

The minute I passed the DOT physical and was cleared to drive, the STD, short term disability, ended. To give me more of a paycheck for two weeks during my “ordeal,” the company paid me my two weeks vacation pay. I’m not getting unemployment, because I’m employed, kind of.

Now if I returned to work at any other “normal” job, I would be back on the clock being paid or receiving my salary. But it doesn’t work that way in trucking. So it’s going to be tough going financially the next month, just as if I had just started a new job driving at the bottom of the rookie barrel.

One of the things that I’m concerned about in my new quest for good health is quality of life – limiting or better yet eliminating stress, anxiety and any symptoms of toxicity in my environment. Yes, it is definitely easier said than done.

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And I’m still being ostracized by Facebook for asking too many people to be my friend. Actually, being so nervous just sitting waiting here for a truck has "activated" my OCD behavior, and like rubbing door knobs or predicting my future based on whether a traffic light stays green or not, I just mindlessly keep pressing "add as friend." What an utterly stupid waste of time thing to do. I should be mowing the lawn instead. I need to make money.

Even more depressing is listening to practically everyone in the world talk about Twitter. Last night on David Letterman, actress Kristin Chenoweth, looking mighty fine and tan, was talking about her getting almost immediate action from Starbucks when she tweeted about receiving rude service from one of their employees. OK, so she’s a Tony and Emmy award winner. She’s a star. She’s rich. I’m still just a truck-less trucker who, by the way, isn’t making a cent just sitting here at home waiting.

Then I found a trucker who has 11,687 Twitter followers. He’s even selling t-shirts. As far as I’m concerned, unless your getting paid cash money for doing something, other than fishing, or snorkeling in the Bahamas or cruising to Mexico, then it’s a waste of time, right? Anyway, whenever I tried tweaking anything on Twitter, all I get is "Twitter is over capacity." I did, however, manage to SWOM. Hey, I’m trying my best to go "tribal" and integrate all the social media tools available to me. Did I just say that? What a bunch of BS.

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Want to lose those pounds, stay fit, relieve stress, go for a walk. Walking is probably the easiest form of exercise to do, no special equipment or gym membership required, just a good pair of comfortable walking shoes and a little motivation. But whats that you say, there is no place to walk? I had this opinion too until I ended up in the hospital with a machine breathing for me. It made me decide to do something about my health and stop using excuses.

I understand that truck-stops can be extremely hazardous to people on foot, rookie drivers texting and looking for parking spots in the middle of the driveway can we quite dangerous to one that is not fleet of foot. Some truck-stops can be unsafe, particularly for women drivers, personally I stay out of those dumps and take my business elsewhere. If a truck-stop is not willing to control what goes on in their lots then they don’t need my business. But with a little effort and looking there are lots of safe interesting and healthy places that we can get too with our trucks.

How many knew that there is an actual hiking trail out the back side of the Little America Truckstop in Flagstaff? Its about one and a half miles in length and lets you wander among the pines of central Arizona. Map Stuck sitting in a Fultonville, NY waiting on Wal-Mart? take a stroll into town and you will discover the Canalway Railtrail running next to the Thruway. Map Passing through Western Maryland? There is the Western Maryland Railtrail that can be easily accessed from the little truck-stop in Hancock. Map Picking up apples in Wenatchee, WA? Here’s a little jewel I discovered, there’s a nice State Park with a walking/biking trail that runs along the Columbia River that can be reached from many of the shippers in town. Map What better way can you spend those hours of sitting waiting on appointments than to take a nice stroll through the countryside. These are just a few examples of place you can find with a little effort.

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absolutely, positively not ready to go anywhere. Do you remember the song by John Denver and the Mamas and Papas? That was the theme of my day. I drove to Office Depot to fax the DOT physical and release forms from the cardiologist to my company. That started a chain of phone calls and e-mails just as if I had never been absent a day from work. My DM (dispatcher) and the Operations Manager are in the process of locating a tractor for me. Because I have a TWIC card, HAZMAT endorsement, security clearance and can go into Canada, I will get priority over other drivers that are also waiting for trucks.

So I’m on standby. Like waiting for a load. Like being a tow truck driver. A fireman. It’s stressful. The call could come in at any time and I’ll be on a Greyhound or plane to somewhere. I asked them to please try to give me at least 24 hours notice before I have to leave the house. I’ve told you this numerous time already, but it bears constant repeating – if I did not have the right doctor – cardiologist – handling my case – one who treats me with respect and understands the challenges of trucking – going back to work and dealing with all the paperwork, meds and jumping through DOT hoops, etc. – would be an impossible and frustrating affair.

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