Life on the Road – Trucking News Blog

No I did not listen to the State of the Union. Why? I don’t care right now because I’ve got a whole bunch of my own problems to deal with. Trucker problems. Problems from being out on the road for four weeks. Problems from not being at home. Am I in the truck right now? Heck no! I’m in a quiet, warm and king sized bed equipped room at the Super 8 motel off I 90 very west of Chicago. It even has a bathtub – imagine that! I forgot how to use one. And the rig, the one with the APU heater that doesn’t heat, is parked outside in the 15 degree frozen Illinois tundra next to a humongous sparking clean Atlas Van Lines truck. Those van line guys are always sleeping in motels – must be nice.

So I just got back over the border from Canada. Got stuck in traffic outside Toronto on that miserable 401. I turned on the CB. It’s illegal to drive and talk on the CB in Canada now – but what the hey. And guess what? I “participated” in a twenty minute “conversation” with other Canadian drivers and I never heard the “f” word, not one driver questioned another driver’s sexual identity, no mention of 4-wheelers – in fact – everyone involved was quite friendly with the goal of trying to pass the time until the traffic opened up. What a concept! I’m pretty much convinced that if I wanted to seriously lower my blood pressure, I should just move to Canada. All I have to do is drive from one end to the other and I’ll make good money – there is socialized medicine and everyone says hello and thank you. And let’s keep Pilot OUT OF CANADA! Independents only – ey!

By the way, this morning after I thawed myself out, I went into McDonalds for breakfast. There was some punk yelling at the scared Mexican American employee behind the counter. Seems he wanted some special order burrito that is found on whatever planet he’s from. Great to be high on Meth or Crack at 6 AM.  No one else behind the counter comes to her aid. So I walk in. My head already aching from my night, which I’ll tell you about in a second. And this punk is saying the worst things – wetback, speak English and worse. Unfair, stupid and cowardly. No other customers around. And he’s doing what I called the Ghetto dance. A Caucasian jerk swaying back and forth insulting this poor woman like a horny caged parrot. So I walk right behind him – all 300+ lbs. of me – and just stand there looking at this dumb SOB. And he moves closer to the exit. And I move right right behind him. Anyway, he leaves dancing and ah scream’n with the woman shaking trying to dial 911. I told her to forget it and get me some coffee – please – emergency! It was on the house. I had to pay for the sausage, egg and cheese McGriddles. Chivalry only gets so much these days. She made a great cup a Joe. And I’ve only been up about fifteen minutes.

Ok, so here’s the skinny – last night in the bunk it was 14 degrees. I had on two pairs of heavy socks, sweats, a vest, two t-shirts, a jacket and a ski mask. I found an extra fuse for my electric blanket and got that working. Over me was a sleeping bag and three blankets. And I was freezing. My nose was the coldest part of me and I kept waking up trying to cover it. Now you ask just why was I doing this to myself? Well, here’s the list – two weeks ago in Baltimore where my GPS was stolen they didn’t know how to repair my TriPak APU – day after day goes by and the thing gets “more broken” – worse and worse smokey-er and more toxic. My company says drive drive drive. Can you get this load – can you get that load. Do us this favor and that favor. Oh, please we can fix it better there and do that somewhere else. And the heater gets colder and colder. Boom, we’re in Canada where apparently no one repairs trucks – right. BS. Ohhh, please please can you rush something from Cambridge – that’s Ontario – to Chicago. Better to fix the thing in Chicago – right? What a idiot I am. And the header dies – dead – poop – no heat.

It was about 35 degrees in Canada. Remember what I just said? 14 degrees last night. By first light it was colder inside my truck than outside. And no, you cannot disengage the auto engine shutoff in this Freightliner despite there being a toggle switch that is labeled to do just that. Did I say that I’m an idiot? Oh, yeah it’s cold, but I can stand it – no problem. Did I say that I’m an idiot? At about 5:30 AM I open my eyes. OMG! I think I’m frozen. I just can’t move. But nature calls – badly – really badly – and the smoke or steam or whatever is puffing from my mouth like I’m a angry bull about to gore a matador. I have to think where I am. My hand comes out from under the layers. It’s sooo cold. The top blanket is sopping wet. No not from me – it’s like some kind of icy dew that has formed on top of all the layers of blankets. And my poor nose is – no BS – frozen. Just what the heck am I going to do now. After being on the road for four weeks, I have no more fresh winter clothes – everything is short pants.

I make my way into the front seat with the electric blanket around me. It’s still plugged in but doesn’t even feel warm. Oh please, start engine start. Come-on baby go go go – roar to life – pleeease! Chugga chugga stooo stoo chugga chugga stoo stoo grrrrrrr YES YES it’s happening – it’s starting – varoooom – go baby go – YES and the heater is going from blowing freezing air to heat. And I’ve got to 10-100 so badly. I need food. I need COFFEE. Screw the fact that all my inner clothing layers are soaked. I put on another down vest that I’m to fat to zip up and creep out of the truck into the McDonalds. And how was your life on the road today? Oh, yeah, the company is still not sure where they’re going to get the thing fixed. Will I get reimbursed for the room? Two weeks ago I washed my trailer – a company trailer – it was full of grease and Alabama mud. The company wouldn’t pay the $37.50 for the wash. An e-mail to the company CEO went unanswered. $70 for the room. At least I’m warm.