Life on the Road – Trucking News Blog

11 days off. 7 paid. That’s how long I was NOT a truck driver. And boy-oh-boy how truly sweet it was. I knew I had reached the “other side”, when driving from Orlando to Lakeland FL, I pulled onto the interstate not caring about anyone else, going a comfortable not so fast 45ish, then looking into my rear view mirror and seeing a giant 18 wheel grain hauler right on my “6″ wondering just what the hell I was doing. Too bad smelly over-worked under-paid FL truck driver! Waz da rush? Wanna go 80? Tough!

Ah-ha! So this is what it feels like to be a civilian 4 wheeler. I’m lov’n the whole “thang” and even better was seeing Love’s, the “J” and T/A along with the weigh station near Tampa, and not giving a flying wazoo about any of them. I just creeped along at 60 mph in a 70 mph “zone” and soaked up the feeling of being a self-actualized driver doing what I darn wanted to. I almost – just for the heck of it – put on my left signal light and kept it on, for let’s say – oh – 15 or so miles. Ah, maybe next vacation.

Alright. This morning I took a nice looong warm bath. I needed to soak my ‘ole bones to get ready to defy all OSHA “regs” and climb on top of steel and pipe loads that could fall over at any moment. I got out of the water and stood there, after air drying myself off just like Cuba Gooding Jr. in Jerry Maguire – just that I’m much more handsome of course – wait! – what is that smell? Ooooo, it’s me! All Dialed-up and squeaky clean from head to toe. Not a spec of anything under those fingernails. Took my over a week to get those suckers clean. I just relished the moment, just like I did my carefree driving adventure on the interstate. I must be nuts to leave all this – to go back on the road – again. To put up that never ending nonsense. 11 days ago when I got home and looked in a real mirror I said – holy you know what – I look horrible. I scared myself. 11 days at home, on my own terms on the interstate and on the seas – I look ma-ve-lous – simply marrr-vel-ous!!! At least 5 years younger and THINNER!

Oh well. Truck all packed. Ring ring. My dispatcher. Are we ready to go? Oh yes. I’d love to stay, but there are bills to pay & future cruises to look forward to. Beep. QUALCOMM has a trip. Oooo. That was fast. 1250 miles. Pipe to Harvey IL. Tarped load. But wait. What’s this? Tarp pay $30? What happened to $40? And the per mile rate – what? $ .02 less? They must be kidding? E-mail time. Heeelloo dispatcher person – waz up? You say everyone took a “cut” when I was away? Oh really? And what’s this other message on my Blackberry? Oh “they” hired an outside “consulting” firm to call drivers and ask them their opinion of operations? Is that what my “cut” is paying for? And what? Oh, you don’t want me to deliver it – just repower it in Birmingham?

What’s that you say? Must be there tonight? Oh, this is a JIT load? Gotta rush over there ASAP. Really? OK. So I get there at 3:30 PM – on time – for the preloaded trailer. Arrow is behind me along with a truck trying to deliver and another flatbed besides me. What’s that Mr. Cranky underpaid guard? There are no loads? Really? Not – MAYBE – until after 1 PM tomorrow? Ohhh. And there is no freight for those other guys? No? Wow. And everyone left early because things are slow. And even the other guy with the delivery appointment is going to have to come back tomorrow? Hum. Is that a definite maybe or a maybe maybe or a no chance in heck maybe? Don’t know – ey? And guess what? Yup – my dispatcher’s gone home. When she’s gone, you might as well talk to a wall.

6:30 PM. 211 miles from my front door of my quiet cool comfortable HOME. My big black chair. My tub. My left over spaghetti and meatballs. My soft bed. My wife. My son. My dogs who get depressed when I’m gone. My life. And I’m sitting here, my butt already starting to hurt after only 4 hours of driving, at the St. Augustine Flying J soon to be a JPilot or PilotJ or FlyingPilot or PilotFlying – whatever – who cares? Do you remember what Major Charles Emerson Winchester (of Mash 4077 fame) said into his tape recorder to be sent to his Aunt Renoria? “Get me the hell out of here!” Welcome back. Yeah right!

Photo credits: http://www.collectorsheaven.net/Collectibles/Memorabilia/mvc-307f.jpg, pro.corbis.com., http://www.sanfranciscosentinel.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/arnold-z.jpg, http://plus.maths.org/latestnews/sep-dec05/spaghetti/spaghetti.jpg., thoughttheater.com