4/9/10

We're nearly four years into this truck driving experiment of mine.  The first time that I went to bed amidst comfortable temperatures and awoke shivering, I thought, "Hmm, hadn't thought of that."  When you sleep in the comfort of your own home in Metro Detroit, temperatures don't tend to drop terribly dramatically within the span of a few hours.  And when the temperature does drop, your thermostat will usually compel your heater to kick on and blunt the effect.  On the road, this is not the case.  The second, third, and countless other times that I've fallen alseep comfortably and awakened shivering, I've thought, "Okay, that's the last time."  Yeah, I've been wrong... every time.

My truck's temperature readout said 58° last night when my sleep-inducers kicked in and sent me to bed.  When the chill forced me to open my eyes and take stock of the situation this morning, holy shit.  I flipped the switch for my bunk heater and found its progress to be lacking, so I climbed out of bed and fired up the truck.  Was it really 24° ouside?  You've got to be shitting me.  So there I was in my underwear.  (For your own sake, don't try to picture that.)  Once I had managed to throw some clothes on and stop shivering, there wasn't much chance that I would be getting back to sleep.  Might as well start driving.  And thus begins another glamorous day in the life of this here truck driver. 

I had warmed up and gotten my act together by the time I reached the Pilot in Jamestown, where I topped off the fuel tanks and grabbed a bite to eat.  Those microwaved breakfast burritos are really a lot better than people might think.  Across into Arizona and onto I-17, I encountered scant traffic and good driving conditions.  The trip down through the canyons proved to be rather uneventful, with the exception of a few dropped phone calls, and the Tigers managed to win their third game out of four in the young season, so all was right with the world.  I decided to press my luck and continue into the Phoenix area.  No traffic on AZ-101 and a pull-through parking space at the Pilot in Avondale.  Beauty.

The biggest negative of the day (aside from my frozen gonads this morning) came when I tried to buy a baseball cap for my Swedish buddy Sjoe.  He's apparently a Diamondbacks fan or something.  Alas, no quasi-Disney wannabe Mighty Ducks caps to be found at the Pilot.  Just a bunch of college football stuff.  Bummer.  The Swede will have to look elsewhere.

It's more than a little amusing to me, in an Inconvenient Truth sorta way, that my truck is idling right now.  The temperature readout says 89° and the sun is shining brightly.  Elevation changes or no elevation changes, a 65° move in the span of seven hours is just crazy.

Completely off topic (to whatever extent my own gibberish on my own blog can be off topic):  I've always kinda sorta had a crush on Janine Turner.  You know, from a shallow male 'I wanted to get with her when my mother watched her on General Hospital and I was too young to know that I wanted to get with her' perpsective.  Now, in light of a recent article, I may really be in love with the gal.  Ain't that something.