Life on the Road - Trucking News Blog

The sun is going down here in Lamar MO of US71. I’m headed to KC MO with 45K of rolled roofing. There should be a law prohibiting tarping when the temperature is over 100 degrees. Where is OSHA and the FMCSA when you really need them? I’m at the Ambest T/S aka Lamarti’s. I just finished a grilled chicken salad at the adjacent Denny’s. Lot’s of folks waiting to be served and many tables with dirty dishes and silverware, but I got great service and was in and out of there quickly. I spoke to Chris, and she told me not to mention that a beer truck driver up in CT murdered 8 people and then took his own life at the business that was terminating him this morning. Terrible thing, but if you need to, you can read or listen to the gory details elsewhere. She “ordered” me to write something positive.

So here we go – positive it is. By the way, I was in a unusually good mood today and for some reason spent the entire day listening to Willie’s Place on XM channel 13. I’m more of Sugarland fan, but the old country music relaxed me. I forget how good Willy Nelson is. So, yesterday, I had a remarkable experience. I had delivered my load of insulation and went down the road “a spell” and stopped at a Shell station on the corner of US71 and LA60 in Lebeau, LA. Oh, before I forget, the construction guys, at the job site I delivered the insulation to, when I arrived, told me I missed the “staging” place. I absolutely love Louisiana, but the construction workers on Monday morning are all hung over and move real slow after a weekend rolling in the “hay” with very un-Christian women.

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The photo you’re looking at here was taken by the Associated Press – AP. It used to be a Greyhound bus. I stress “used to be.” It was going from Los Angeles to Sacramento CA – carrying 36 passengers.

About 1:30 am, an SUV overturned in front of the bus. The Greyhound hit the SUV, then slammed into a concrete center divider and clipped another vehicle. The bus then went off the right shoulder of the highway and went down a 15 foot embankment before smashing into a tree.

The bus driver was killed. Five others died and nine people were seriously injured. The three women in the SUV were killed. The “accident” happened on Highway 99 in Fresno. The bus driver had an excellent safety record and had been employed by Greyhound since 1978. No one is sure at this point why the SUV had overturned on the road. I only hope there wasn’t a truck driver on the bus headed to a job orientation somewhere or to pick up a truck.

As you are aware, it was only a few weeks ago that I was on a bus – a Greyhound bus – from Tampa to Birmingham – trying to sleep while the bus was flying through the night – at about the same time of the morning as this accident occurred. I saw the story on my cell just before I went to bed the other night. I felt absolutely terrible for the driver of the bus and his surviving relatives. I’m not a big fan of Greyhound/Trailways, but the drivers, many of whom have worked there for a long time, have a tough job. They put up with a lot of BS from the riff-raff that travel on the busses. They have to deal with the same traffic nonsense as we truckers do. And, their schedules are just a nutty as ours. I’m sure they’ll find that the driver was just doing his job and was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was just joking, but in one of my previous posts, before I left the house to go back to work, I made reference to my fear of being killed in a Greyhound that rolled off the road into a ditch.

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No – these nicely dressed folks are not celebrating the delivery of that shiny white Freightliner behind them. They’re on their way to the BIG wedding. This weekend, it’s the lead headline in all the e-zines and on- line media sources. This particular photo leads the Wall St. Journal and was taken by Reuters.

The press is going “ga-ga” over the Chelsea Clinton wedding. I couldn’t care less. I have no beef with Hillary or her daughter. I wish them a happy life. They certainly have the money, connections, influence and pull that most Americans don’t. After the honeymoon, the couple will live in the grooms $4 million NYC apartment. I, however, will never forgive, forget or ignore that Bill Clinton, despite his present”humanitarian” fund raising activities in Haiti (which I also couldn’t care less about) and elsewhere, disgraced the Office of the President, “our” White House and our nation, because he couldn’t keep “it” in his pants with Monica Lewinsky. He was unfaithful to his wife, embarrassed his daughter and should have resigned from office and let “I invented the internet” Al Gore assume office. But unfortunately, Clinton stuck it out, Bush was elected and now we have Obama in office. But this post is not about politics or the wedding. It is about Clyde and the new America.

I was at a steel mill the other day somewhere in the middle of South Carolina. There used to be 50+ loads a day moving out of there – now, when they’re “busy”, there are about 5. As with most other steel mills around the nation, this place is a dinosaur. Most of the material they used to process here is now manufactured out of the US. It’s hanging on, but barely. It is, of course, a non-union shop. What else would you expect in the South? Here, the wages are more in the $8/an hour range, way below the (what used to be) much higher steel plant – union – wages – of “old” Pennsylvania and Michigan. Before the “de-cession” and “our” government “investing” in the auto manufacturing business. The folks here are the “worker-bees” that load and unload the trucks – they’re the crane operators, the fork-lift drivers – the guys and sometimes gals that place the dunnage on the trucks. They’re the other aspect of LIFE ON THE ROAD – not the drivers, but people that work with us – 24/7 – to keep America moving.

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It’s positively brutal out here. Right now I’m in Grand Bay MS and it’s 105 degrees. I had to tarp a load of 13′ 6″ high insulation yesterday down in Deland FL – it was 115 degrees in the sun. I’m pumping in the Gatorade big time and trying to spend more time inside the truck stops – travel centers – taking advantage of their air conditioning vs. staying in the truck.

Rackets – that’s our world right now. Everything is a racket. I went into Verizon the other day to attempt to upgrade my Droid Eris to either an Incredible or the newer Motorola Droid X. They had little or no stock on these “smart” phones. To simply upgrade, the customer is required to sign a two-year contract extension. If you want to cancel the service, because you want to switch over to AT&T, which right now exclusively offers the iPhone, Verizon will hit you with a $350 cancellation free. If you extend your contract and the phone is in stock, a $20 monthly “tether” fee applies to connect the unit to your laptop. There is an additional $30 fee per month for internet. And, if you’re not on a “family” type plan, which provides for unlimited texting, you will pay through the nose for messaging. I have a nationwide plan so I can text, e-mail and make calls from just about everywhere, and as you know, that “privilege” isn’t cheap.

The reason this racket exists is because Verizon and AT&T are essentially paying off our “supposed” representatives in Congress to turn the other way when it comes to this rip-off of consumers. Congress, is, of course, the biggest racket going. The providers of cell “service” should NOT be selling phones. And visa versa. This nonsense, where if you choose not to sign a contract with AT&T or Verizon, or anyone of the few other cell service providers, the cost of the phone goes from $199 to $599, is equally absurd. But, when “our” Congress is bought and paid for by the phone, oil, power, health and finance industries, there is little, if any, impedance for the “people” to be protected by these shysters. Trucking, unfortunately, can’t seem to muster up enough dough to pay off the Congress, because they’re out-spent by the shippers and receivers of the Fortune 1000. OOIDA, with half or more of its membership dead or broke will never be able to change that.

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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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