As I was driving this afternoon, I started to wonder how one would define a flawless day in the life of a truck driver. Obviously light traffic would come in handy. Polite customers would also be nice. Getting some miles covered and making a few bucks would be part of the equation. We had all of these things today. One last part may have been a sticking point though. Freaking West Virginia. Any time I have to drag a load up or down I-77, I usually end up in a pretty frustrated state of mind.
Secret weapon today though...
Those ain't kilograms either. 3,900 pounds, baby. Flawless. This meant that I was the boss of the hills today, pulling what effectively amounted to an empty trailer.
I damn near got wrecked by one of my fellow CTL drivers on one hill though. I was cruising up the center lane at 60mph while several slower trucks chugged along in the climbing lane. My aforementioned coworker decided that he was coming over, just as I was passing him. I've never understood what causes truck drivers who are going 35mph to think that they absolutely must pass a truck going 30mph if they approach it from behind. If you've already lost that much speed, just keep your slow ass in the right lane until you crest the hill. Stupid. Luckily for all parties involved, there was room for me to swing over to the left lane (where trucks are not permitted) and avoid a collision.
They had a big inspection shindig set up at the first rest area in West Virginia today, adding one more to my list of things not to like about that state. A huge parade of trucks had to get off the highway and then complete a big loop before getting back on the road. The cop who seemed to be in charge was waving me through as I approached, so I guess I got lucky there. He was jotting down something on a piece of paper as each truck passed. Probably doing an inspection on every Nth truck or something.
The weigh station up toward the top of the state was open as well. I haven't ever seen that one open before. I got a red light on my PrePass unit, so I had to pull into the scale, but they just rolled me across and sent me on my way. Not a whole lot of overweight concerns when you have a 3,900 pound payload.
The main concern as I cruised up through Ohio was whether or not I would find somewhere to park after making my drop in Warren. There's a truck stop along OH-5, just a few miles away, but it's definitely not a sure bet. I did see a few open spaces as I passed on the way to my consignee. The sun had just set though, and that's when the game of musical chairs tends to begin.
The process of getting checked in and making my drop/hook took quite some time, so my prospects appeared to be dwindling. Just one open space though; that's all I needed. After a long day on the road, I was looking forward to kicking back and relaxing for a while. But... that's not exactly how the night turned out. Not yet, at least.
After hooking to my empty trailer and sending in the appropriate satellite form messages, I hopped into the trailer in order to remove some garbage. I hadn't checked my board status yet, but one CTL truck had arrived just ahead of me and there was another parked at that local truck stop. My guess was that I would be #3 at best. By the time I got back into my truck, my next assignment was waiting. I'll be damned.
The new assignment brought more uncertainty into the picture. I would be picking up in Asthabula, Ohio and heading to Miami, Florida. That's easy enough to comprehend, of course. The problem was that I had no idea how I would make the 8am pickup work with my log book and I also had no idea where I would park tonight, since neither my truck stop directory nor my atlas showed anything along the route from Warren to Ashtabula. Compounding the uncertainty was the fact that today's 14 hour clock was going to run out in an hour, so I had no time to sit around and think things over. 'Shoot first, ask questions later' was going to have to be the approach.
I headed eastward on OH-5 toward OH-11 and placed a phone call to our home base in Missouri. My hope was that my 8am pickup might not have to be an 8am pickup. Maybe, for instance, it could be a 10am pickup instead. That would be pretty helpful with respect to the log book situation. Otherwise I was going back into a split-sleeper situation with a really lopsided tilt to it. The night dispatcher who took my call seemed to have his act together, asking me to wait a minute while he checked to see if he could move the pickup time back. I was hoping for the best but expecting the worst. Score one for the good guys this time though. He came back and told me that I was all set for 10am. Beauty.
So the log book concern had been addressed. Now for the parking. I had no idea how that part was going to work out. (You know... It's funny how we always remember how to pray when we want something, isn't it. Maybe 'funny' is the wrong word. You know what I mean though. Well, unless you don't pray, I suppose. In that case, nevermind.) Anyhow, I was rolling up OH-11 and hoping to spot a truck-friendly Wal Mart or something. My clock struck 10:30pm. Time's running out, champ. What's it gonna be? 11pm is the end of the line. Just then I saw a sign saying that there was a rest area 1 mile ahead. I swung in and found that it had room for probably ten trucks to park. In a pleasant surprise, there were only two trucks here when I arrived. Beauty.
I think I have around 20 miles to go from here to my next shipper. It's a straight shot up a controlled-access freeway, so I don't expect any trouble in getting there by 10am. My ten hour break will be over at 8:45am, so all should work out fine. The shipper is some sort of chemical outfit, so I'm sure my payload will be closer to 44,000 pounds than 4,000. That'll make for a tedious trip back down through the mountains, but at least I should have all weekend to do it.
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