2/19/10

On a fairly regular basis, I wake in the morning without any substantial knowledge of where I am. Sometimes I look out the window and it all comes back to me. Other times, it takes a little bit of investigation. I saw trees when I looked outside today. That's unusual. After a couple of seconds I still had no idea, so I looked at my log from yesterday and then it made sense. I was parked in front of my consignee in Norwalk. Okay then.

By the time a guy opened the door to the receiving area, two other drivers already were waiting. They had arrived after me but I wasn't in any hurry, so it didn't bother me that the fella told me to back into a given dock after those two were finished. I'll take an extra hour of sleep over an early dock assignment every day and twice on Sunday.

Once my turn came up, it was time for the forklift guy to take his lunch break. This also didn't bother me, as the roach coach was arriving just then to serve the factory workers. The lass behind the counter made me a mean grilled cheese sandwich and all was right with the world. Once the guy came back to work, I was unloaded rather quickly.

My next pickup was scheduled for 2pm but I decided to head over directly (at 10am) and take my chances. The shipper was a little importer/exporter outfit (not named Vandelay Industries) on the edge of Chinatown. My directions were okay - take this exit, go down here, customer on the right. "On the right" meant that the place was along a little side street to the right, but I saw the name of the company on the side of the building so I had no trouble finding it. The lot was a tight mutha though.


For reference, you see an 18' box truck in the dock nearest Main Street, next to a 26' box truck. My little machine is around 70' long. As I swung out through the driveway, into the part of the street where the 'Sotello' is in this picture, I wasn't quite sure how I would manage to get squarely into the dock. My truck was jacked at an angle relative to my trailer and the gate along the edge of the driveway dictated that I wouldn't be making any major adjustments, whether or not those adjustments needed to be made. After I eased past the gate in reverse and swung my truck back in front of the trailer... I found that I was perfectly squared to the dock. It actually looked like I knew what I was doing. Beauty.

I was at the shipper for an hour and a half or so, during which I got a kick out of watching the business that was taking place. Various little trucks would show up with a pallet or two. Some were like the box trucks pictured above. Some were the type of trucks that are more generally associated with uniform rental companies. Some were the standard cargo vans that you can pick up at your neighborhood Ford dealer. And still others were rickety old pickup trucks that looked like they could fall apart at any moment. Quite often, immediately after one of the smaller trucks had dropped off a pallet, I would feel my trailer bounce under the weight of the forklift. I think they call this 'cross-dock consolidation' or something.

Once I was loaded, I received some advice from one of the guys on the dock. Go down here and take a right, then a right over there, then get on 5 southbound, then look for 10 to Santa Monica. I followed his directions to the letter, including the part about taking I-10 toward Santa Monica.

♫ We can live beside the ocean
Leave the fire behind
Swim out past the breakers
Watch the world die ♫

Damn it! I know that Santa Monica is to the west of Los Angeles. I know that! Why did I listen to that guy? When you're in a place where they apparently don't like words such as 'east' and 'west' on their highway signs, you need to know that Santa Monica is along the ocean and San Bernardino is out toward the desert. I knew this, damn it. But I stupidly followed the directions that I was given and wound up going the wrong way. No problem though, I thought. We'll just get off the freeway and turn around.

The next half hour was probably as bizarre as you could imagine. Quite a few of the roads were impassable for a big truck, so I found myself trying to spot wide enough turns while keeping the freeway in sight. Sometimes I would lose sight of the freeway and then spot it again after going around a few corners. The only trouble, of course, was that there are freeways everywhere in that neck of the woods. Somehow, after a little bit of stress and a lot of amusement, I wound up on the 101 northbound. I thought I was already on the north side of I-10, meaning that I would have been going the wrong way, but it turns out that I-10 was a mile in front of me. I caught the ramp to the east and chalked up another win for the good guys.

Setting aside the fact that I have yet another wicked heavy load to pull, this afternoon's drive was pretty easy. The traffic got lighter and lighter as I got out of the L.A. area. Since I had been loaded well ahead of my 2pm appointment time, I was able to make it to the Phoenix suburbs at a reasonable hour and call it a night at the Pilot in Avondale. The great J.T. was kind enough to drive down and extend some hospitality, for which I was rather grateful. There's even a rumor that my Swedish buddy Sjoe stopped by and enjoyed a libation or two. I can neither confirm nor deny this rumor.

I'm due in Laredo by Monday morning, so a couple of ~500 mile days tomorrow and Sunday should do the trick. Another day, another dollar.