2/27/10

A long, long time ago (yesterday), a gullible, idealistic sucker (me) said the following - "I'm inclined to think that tomorrow should go somewhat smoothly. Well, at least as smoothly as a day involving a stop in Joplin can go." I did hedge the statement a little with that second sentence, for whatever that's worth, but I now see that I was way too optimistic.

Nobody said anything about the cracked fender. That's pretty good, I guess. As the years go by though, I become more and more convinced that those guys in the inspection bay just make shit up as they go along. In addition to my worn drive tires, I had a steer tire that was wearing along the edge. It had lots of tread left, so I thought it was fine, but I can see where their concern was. So that got replaced. Then, the disparity in tread depth between the new steer tire and the remaining old steer tire was too great. So I got another new one. And something was wrong with the trailer and something about one of my slack adjusters. And, to round it all out, I needed some kind of greaser or something. Et tu, Pony Boy?

After dropping my trailer on the repair row, I saw that only one truck was waiting in line at the tire shop, so I decided to start there. It took a little longer to get through there than I had expected, but at least I wound up with four new tires instead of two or three. Decent trade-off. Then I checked in with the guy in the tractor shop. He said that I should check back at around 7pm. This would put me right on the borderline of being able to reach Pocahontas before my 14 hour clock ran out, but what are you gonna do? If something's broken, even if I've never heard of that 'something,' then I suppose someone has to fix it.

I rolled over to the vacuum and gave my floor a bit of what-for. Unfortunately though, I didn't have any foaming tire cleaner in my side box. Damn. I thought I had a can. So I had to use some kind of all-purpose cleaner instead. It worked okay, but it's not the same. My research department has developed a fool-proof way to get a clean floor that will repel dirt for at least... an hour or two.

From Page 682 of the Fenian Godfather Handbook:
1) Vacuum out all loose dirt.
2) Spray the floor with a liberal amount of tire foam.
3) Scrub with a stiff wire brush.
4) Vacuum out the resulting grimy sludge.

5) With the wire brush, scrub any spots that still appear dirty.
6) Re-spray the floor with tire foam.
7) Allow the foam to lift the dirt that was loosened in Step 5.
8) Vacuum out the dirty foam.
9) Repeat steps 5-8 if necessary.
10) Wipe with a clean and dry disposable shop towel.

That'll give you a clean floor every time, but today I had to work a little harder to achieve the desired outcome. Good enough.

As I was wrapping up my janitorial duties, I received a satellite message. I was hoping that it would be a note the from the tractor shop, wondering why my truck wasn't parked where it belonged. It wasn't. The message was from the trailer shop, informing me that my trailer was ready and waiting.

I've been hanging around for a while and it's now 5:35pm. Nobody has come to get my truck yet, so I don't think that 'rolling by 7pm' thing is gonna happen. I guess I'll try to sleep for a while and maybe roll out once I've been here for ten hours. There's still plenty of time to reach Michigan by Monday morning. It's just not entirely clear yet how I'll go about it.

The pay week wraps up with 2,368 miles plus $120 in layover pay, so all in all we'll have to call it a productive one. I made a few dollars, made my annual pilgrimage to this freaking place, and got some things fixed up on my little black truck along the way.

2/26/10

Okay, Johnny Canuck, looks like you'll get your second shot at our boys (barring an unexpected Slovakian comeback). Pretty clever move scheduling the gold medal game early in the afternoon on Sunday, so I'll be rolling down the highway and unable to shout brilliant strategies at my computer screen. The lads will just have to get it done without me.

Today was one of those days that we all need to have every once in a while. I sometimes get a kick out of the various misadventures that arise out here, and Lord knows I find more than my share of them, but occasionally I just need to have everything go smoothly. Today, everything went smoothly. A fuel stop in Midland, some preventive maintenance in Sweetwater, and a whole lot of time spent letting the cruise control drag me along.

Even with the break for the maintenance work and another break for some dinner, I had plenty of time to reach the service plaza near Stroud, Oklahoma before parking for the night. I could have gone further, I suppose, but this was far enough. And, just to prove that everything is really peachy today, I bought some fries from a smokin' hot teenage cashier chick at McDonald's a few minutes ago. After she offered a very kind compliment (somewhat rare for a big ugly dude like me, obviously), I kept my mouth shut just long enough to realize something - The sarcastic reply that came immediately to mind would have been entirely inappropriate, given that I'm probably twice as old as she is. So I just said, "Thank you," and went on my way. How 'bout them apples? I'm gettin' all growed up an' mature an' stuff.

I'm inclined to think that tomorrow should go somewhat smoothly. Well, at least as smoothly as a day involving a stop in Joplin can go. The tire guys usually don't take too long, so that part doesn't worry me. And between having my annual D.O.T. inspection within the past month, having my truck in the shop until a couple of days ago, and getting my PM service done today, there's at least a puncher's chance that I can get past the inspection guys without any issues. Hopefully anything that I (the mechanically illiterate) would tend to overlook, one of the various mechanics poking around my truck recently will already have addressed. Maybe they'll flag the trailer or something, but I think it's all good.

So... one possible issue remains. (I can't believe it has been eight months already.) This potential problem hadn't occurred to me until this evening. If they make me get that fender replaced, I'll most likely have to wait a day for the paint people to produce a black one. That's what happened after I got whacked the previous time. The body shop has red parts for the old CFI trucks and white parts for the new Con-way trucks. For folks like me, with our oddball colors, they have to use red parts and paint them to match our trucks. The paint takes a day to dry and, well, there you go. I really don't feel like giving up the rest of this run and I really, really, really don't feel like spending a day in Joplin. Hopefully, since the damage is minor and doesn't present a safety hazard, we can just let it ride until a later date. We'll see.

I can reach our yard in Pocahontas, Illinois pretty easily tomorrow, as long as nothing delays me long enough to bring the 14 hour rule into play. This means that, with the aforementioned caveat, I have a guaranteed parking space awaiting me. This means that... oh, you know what it means. Godfather - 1, Alarm Clock - 0.

I win, mofos.

Hey, one last thing. Do we really want our elected leaders poking around in monetary policy? I might tend to agree with the principle behind the whole 'Audit the Fed' business, but these people are freaking idiots. Be careful what you wish for. That's all I'm saying.

2/25/10

Pursuant to a few recent e-mail conversations, I get a kick out of the following bit of news. Back when the Fenian Godfather Institute began publishing this web log, the long vertical column framed in green was most pleasing to the eyes of the editors, so that's the format that we decided to use. Sometimes, however, I can get a little longwinded and the main column can extend pretty far down the page. This left for some imbalance with respect to the sections along the right side of the page and the white space below them. Might as well use the fact that blogger.com is a Google property and even out the spacing with some Google ads, I concluded. They don't cost me anything and sometimes, since they are supposed to relate to the text in the blog posts, people might see something useful.

Today's post is #979 in this little voyage of ours. Occasionally I won't have a chance to post a day's story until the following morning but, one way or another, there has been a post on every single day since this thing began. Today, when I logged on to my bank's website to review my checking account, I saw a deposit in the amount of $100.87... from Google AdSense. It turns out that people actually do click an ad every now and then. The minimum payment threshold was $100 and we've finally managed to cross it. And it only took a little over two and a half years. Ten cents a day, baby! The Fenian Godfather Insititute's days as a non-profit are over!

Added to the bountiful payout from Google, I got some layover pay for my breakdown time and the reimbursement authorization for my motel room. So even though the feds forced me to sit around all day without making any money, until I had been parked for at least ten hours, my budgetary fortunes were getting a little lift. That always helps. I figure that, if the same blogging and ad clicking pace continues for another 14,000 years, I'll have a pretty good nest egg built up for myself.

I was #2 when I went to bed in the morning and #13 when my break was finally over. Several trucks had arrived during the time after I woke from my slumber but before I was legal to drive again, so I can add one more to my list of grievances with the federal government and its regulations. I had requested home time though, so I wasn't in terrible shape. On account of the home time request, I would be given priority status for any loads heading in the general direction of the Great Lakes region. Good enough.

Later in the afternoon I got an assignment that served to tie up plenty of loose ends in one fell swoop. I had to bounce down to a shipper near the border and make a drop/hook, then head for Coldwater, Michigan. So I'll deliver not too far from home on Monday morning, bringing my trip home within easy reach. And it looks like my route will take me through Joplin, giving me a chance to put the damned tire tread issue behind me. While I'm there I suppose I'll pick up my shiny gold ring, even though it will be due for its first diamond in another couple months or so. And the miles for this run, combined with my layover pay from the time in El Paso, will be enough to rescue my week and kick the paycheck over a thousand bucks. All in all, pretty stinking good lads.

I thought I would be clever and take a shortcut down to the shipper, rather than do the whole 'go east, then loop back west' thing on I-10. My route was fine but, given the time of day and the rinky-dink nature of some of the streets, it took a little while to get there. After that, the drop/hook was quick and easy and I had a nice little hop up to the Flying J in Pecos, my standard stopping point on evening runs out of El Paso. This load is a little under 20,000 pounds, which is a welcome break from the string of heavy ones that I've had lately. I was able to set the cruise control and enjoy the ride.

All that's left now is for that global warming to move out to sea before I get up north.

2/24/10

For the fifth night in a row, I am writing to you fine folks from El Paso, Texas. That sentence, while technically accurate, is probably misleading.

I didn't even bother making any phone calls this morning. I checked out of my room at 11am and headed back over to the Kenworth dealer to see for myself what was being done to my truck. Should be ready today, I was told when I got there. Given that this was far better than anything that I had heard prior to today, I was feeling rather optimistic. Then, after a morning of listening to one obnoxious guy telling ten thousand bullshit trucker stories in the drivers' lounge, I was feeling rather annoyed.

Morning turned to afternoon and my truck was still in the repair bay. During the first intermission of the hockey game, I walked over to the service area and saw that my truck was gone. I walked outside and saw that it wasn't in the parking lot either. Interesting. Just then, my truck came swinging into the lot with a mechanic fella at the wheel. That's a good sign, I thought. The test drive usually would be the last part of the repair process. But then he drove it back into a repair bay, so maybe my positive thoughts were a little premature.

I went back to the lounge and tried to tune out the aforementioned obnoxious liar. Team USA was in a scoreless tie and, even though I couldn't hear the announcers, the action on the screen was pretty lively. Once a non-goal off a crazy bounce sent the game to the second intermission, still scoreless, I headed back to the service area to see what kind of news they had for me. As soon as I said "the black one," the service guy handed over my keys. Good to go. Beauty.

I sent in my 'back on duty' form via satellite and then headed out toward our drop yard. I would get over there and send in my request for home time, I thought. No sooner had I turned toward the freeway than I had a load assignment. I was picking up a loaded trailer from the yard and taking it to Benson, Arizona. In Benson, I would swap my loaded trailer for another loaded trailer and head back for a delivery in El Paso. Jump right in with both feet, I suppose. Get the truck back and immediately run a solid 548 (paid) mile round trip, with a slight overnight aspect to it for good measure.

The topic of paid mileage is a bit of a nuisance in this sort of case. Our El Paso yard could more accurately be described as being in Horizon City. So I got to go out past El Paso to pick up my loaded trailer, then go even further out of town to loop back over the freeway and head westbound, then return all the way back through El Paso on my way to Arizona, then proceed into El Paso for the delivery, then return all the way back out to the far side of town to drop off my empty trailer at the yard and await my next assignment. All told, the round trip was 605 miles. Mileage discrepancies don't tend to amount to much over the long run. Sometimes I leave the yard and head eastward, for example, picking up a few extra bucks in the process. The fact that our yard is a good 20 miles outside El Paso is just annoying to me.

Anyhow, the whole deal went pretty smoothly. There was some traffic on my way out of Texas in the afternoon, but the truck stop in Benson was a good place for a quick and easy relay and there was no traffic on the overnight run back into El Paso. The yard driver at the Con-way terminal (where I delivered) directed me straight to a door and then brought an empty trailer over and set it out for me to take after making my drop. Good lookin' out, my brother.

As of this posting, I'm #2 on the board, with home time requested. My 14 hour clock is about to run out, but that's more of a technicality than anything at this point. I only have 3/4 of an hour left on my 11 anyway, so it's not like I was going very far without a ten hour break in any case. Guess I'll try to get some sleep and prepare for whatever comes through in the afternoon.

2/23/10

limbo - n - a place or state of restraint or confinement; a place or state of neglect or oblivion; an intermediate or transitional place or state; a state of uncertainty

I'm not sure if we're there just yet. Not on the level of the infamous Laredo incident, for example, but some parallels are starting to emerge. I called our road service department this morning. The guy who took my call said that the repairs had been authorized and it was all up to the Kenworth dealer to figure out when I would be rolling again. I also asked him about the 'driver abuse' nonsense. He made it sound like this was a pretty standard routine when a warranty claim is submitted. As he put it - "What do you have on that truck, 550,000 miles?" A little over 500,000, I told him. "Well there's your abuse right there." Okay then.

The next call was to the dealership. The guy in the service department told me that they were finishing up their estimate and then they would have to get approval from CTL for the necessary repairs. If you need to re-read the paragraph before this one, go ahead. I'll wait. ... ... Okay, see where we're going with this? Our guys say one thing (the repairs have been authorized). Their guys say another thing (they're waiting for authorization). On the way to limbo here, quite possibly. He then told me that there was almost no chance that I would be rolling today.

After calling down to the desk and reserving my room for another day, I tried to find something good on television. It turns out that there's a reason I don't watch television. Bunch of worthless garbage. At some point in the afternoon, I heard a weird noise from my cell phone. It wasn't the damned text message alert and it wasn't a ringtone. I grabbed it and saw that the screen said "inactive smartchip." You know the standard routine there, right? Turn off the phone, pop out the SIM card, replace the card, and fire it back up. No dice.

After a minute or two, I had a pretty good idea of what had happened. Not too long ago, I ordered a new cell phone. It's sitting on my parents' kitchen table right now, waiting for me to come home and retrieve it. For one reason or another, that new phone was activated today without my knowledge. So, when the new SIM card was brought online, my existing SIM card was disabled. After a brief interaction with the online chat service at att.com, I was told that it wouldn't be a problem. I just needed to go to a company store and have them give me a new SIM card for my existing phone. There would be no charge and everything would work fine.

8401 Gateway West - That's where I had to go. 10635 Gateway West -That's where I was. Can't be that far, right? So I headed out and started walking. There was a Sprint store within half a mile of my motel, but I didn't need a Sprint store. There was a T Mobile store within a mile of my motel, but I didn't need a T Mobile store. I needed good old American Telephone & Telegraph. Three freaking miles away. That sucked. By the time I got back to the motel, my nifty little ankles were starting to swell. Fortunately for me, the gas station on the corner sells pain relievers. Frosty, cold, pain relievers.

For obvious reasons, it's pointless for me to try to predict what will happen tomorrow. Maybe I'll get to start abusing my truck again or something. But what if I really did wind up unemployed? Might have to do some real abusing then, eh Harry?



Jackass.

2/22/10

Today was the day that I would know what was going on with my truck, I thought. I was wrong. In point of fact, things seem to be more up in the air as time goes on. The checkout time at my motel was 11am, so I called the dealership at 10:30am to see if I should check out of my room. The guy on the phone said that he would check on the situation and let me know. I was on hold for a half hour and the guy never got back on the phone.

So I went down to the office and checked out of the motel, then walked over to the dealership. It was only half a mile away and I could use a little more exercise, so I didn't see any need to call for a shuttle. Once I got there, I saw that my truck was in a repair bay. The guy behind the desk (probably the same one who took my phone call) didn't seem to know anything. I kicked back in the drivers' lounge to wait for whatever came next.

As afternoon turned to evening, I still had no idea what was happening. I went back into the service office and asked the guy on the night shift if he knew whether or not I needed to find somewhere to spend the night. One of the mechanics said that they were waiting to hear from CTL, in terms of how to proceed. The guy behind the desk pulled up the notes on his computer and showed me the screen. A warranty claim had been submitted to the transmission manufacturer. The claim was denied due to driver abuse. Driver abuse? What in the hell does that mean? The service guy couldn't give me an explanation. In any event, my truck wasn't getting fixed tonight and I needed to find somewhere to stay.

That bit about 'abuse' had me pretty wound up, so I called the CTL road service department to see what they had to say. The guy in Joplin who took my call didn't really have much to add. "It means you're not driving the truck right." Not driving the truck right? What the fuck does that mean? He said that they get this sort of thing on a regular basis. The manufacturer says the driver screwed up and the driver says he did nothing wrong. I won't even bother trying to interpret if this means that I'm the problem or that the manufacturer is the problem.

I'll have to call Joplin tomorrow during business hours and see if I can get a more concrete explanation of what exactly is going on. If I need to look for work elsewhere on account of the fact that I don't know how to drive, then I would like to know as soon as possible. If this is just some kind of corporate gamesmanship between the manufacturer and the trucking company, then I would like to know that as well. I'll be fine either way. I'm just not a big fan of the whole uncertainty bit.

So, at the very least, it'll be another boring night in a motel room. We'll have to take it from there in the morning.

2/21/10

I know that some of you out there might think it would be cool to have a Swedish buddy who shows up every now and then. Sjoe is a pretty good guy for the most part. I can't deny that. The biggest issue I have with him is that sometimes he speaks in foreign languages. For instance, today he said something about Dos Equis. 'Dos' is Spanish for 'two,' right? So then what in the hell is an 'Equis'? That goofy Swede mumbled something about the letter 'X' and then said that this Dos Equis stuff fills him with inspiration...

♫ It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday
A few parking spaces remain
There’s an old man walking next to me
I'm not sure, but he might be insane

He says, son, can you spare me a dollar please
I appreciate all you can do
See I just need gas money so I can drive
To my new job in Kalamazoo

La la la, de de da
La la, de de da da da

Sing us a song, you’re the driver man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we’re all hanging out at the Flying J
And you’ve got us feelin’ alright

Now John at the desk is a friend of mine
He gets me a shower for free
And he’ll ring up your Cokes
Or your carton of smokes
But there’s someplace that he’d rather be

He says, Joe, I believe this is killing me
As the smile ran away from his face
Well I’m sure that I could be a congressman
If I could get out of this place

Oh, la la la, de de da
La la, de de da da da

Now Paul is an old super trucker
Who never had time for a wife
And he's talking with Willis
Who's driving for Millis
And probably will be for life

And the waitress is practicing politics
As the drivers all crowd the buffet
Yes, they’re sharing some lies and embellishments
But at least they have something to say

Sing us a song, you're the driver man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we're all hanging out at the Flying J
And you've got us feelin' alright

It’s a pretty good crowd for a Saturday
And the lot lizard gives me a smile
'Cause she just smoked some weed, and now she'll proceed
To forget about life for a while

And the game room, it sounds like a carnival
And the TV lounge smells like a fart
And we sit in our chairs, with our blank lifeless stares
Waiting for Ice Road Truckers to start

Oh, la la la, de de da
La la, de de da da da

Sing us a song, you're the driver man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we're all hanging out at the Flying J
And you've got us feelin' alright ♫