Life on the Road – Trucking News Blog

Reporting from Las Vegas New Mexico – not the other Las Vegas as in Nevada. After sitting in Clovis NM since Sunday, I finally received the go-ahead to dead-head here to Vegas. That would be further North and West from where I was. And that would be much further away from where I’m supposed to be, Clearwater FL next Tuesday the 20th.

So despite the Dow breaking 10,000 and JP Morgan/Chase making BILLIONS in profits last quarter, freight is still very much in the pits. And so tomorrow morning, I am to call someone at some quarry nearby to escort me to said quarry where I will be loaded down with pretty architectural rocks. I will then have to drag said load up the mountains even further North to Granby Colorado which is about 12,000 feet up in the freak’n sky. Last week it was the snow and chains to cross Monarch Pass to Montrose CO. Well they must have missed me because Friday will be the equally treacherous and unpredictable weather of Berthoud Pass, just South of Rocky Mountain Nat’l Park. Why me?

Ok, so the best – actually the only place – to park your rig is at the Pinos T/S, built sometime around 1945. To find it, since both the useless Exit Guide and the out of date Trucker’s Friend T/S Guide won’t help, just get off any Las Vegas exit and cruise down Grand Ave. like the rest of the locals until you see the trucks. Vegas is close to 7000 ft. up, so along with my “regular” breathing problem, this altitude only makes things worse. Not being able to breathe does not squelch my hunger, so I step into the Pinos T/S steakhouse. Now this place looks like something out of a Walker – Texas Ranger episode. There’s nobody inside, but you know soon when a few bikers come in for a brewskee, then some locals arrive for the Mexican food then add a few frustrated truckers into the mix, well, a brawl is sure to ensue. All you need are the television cameras and Walker doing his karate/judo thing.

But right now, nobody is here. And I want to walk out, but my feet don’t move. I just don’t feel like walking up the main drag to go to Burger King. Behind Pinos is a red shack called Little Saigon. Nobody is there either. Vietnamese food in Las Vegas New Mexico. That’s a bit much for me to handle. So I find a booth my stomach can fit in. The chubby waitress comes right over from somewhere sporting a whole bunch of bad tattoos. As any trucker with a brain knows, West of the Pecos, you order Sierra Mist – East you order Sprite. I’m trying to wean myself off diet coke. Well, I order the chopped steak with a few kinds of cheese, some sort of green slim hot stuff slithered all over the top and a salad.

Gee, I realize I never made out my will. I really don’t want to be escorted to some quarry in the cold dark New Mexico morning and drive dumb rocks shifting up and down numerous gears while my brakes over heat. If I eat what I ordered and I’m dead by mid night, alls well that ends well. Chubby – much of her middle is spewing out from over her jeans like an Otis Spunkmeyer muffin – brings me the salad. I couldn’t believe it. Fresh, cold, wet, crispy lettuce with equally fresh sliced and diced juicy tomatoes with green peppers and cucumbers. Martha Stewart would have been proud.

And the main course was equally as spectacular, although the green gooey hot stuff would have been a complete turnoff to many people. By the time I took the last bite, I didn’t need a drink refill, I needed a fire extinguisher. I rushed up to the cashier who easily had a size 50 DD bust with a bra that long ago gave up trying to hold up the girls consequently they sagged clear down almost to her waist. Just like Chubby  she sported numerous weird tattoos and of course, she had little or no teeth. Sadly, I don’t think she ever went to a hairdresser. She smiled at me and all I could think of was Halloween. After paying for the feast, I trotted next door to the little bodega just as one of those large Americano tourist busses emptied out and I was surrounded by a large herd of people fighting to get to the rest rooms. I found a low fat chocolate milk and got the heck out of there, before being trampled.