3/27/10

Continuing a theme...

I knew that the chances were better than 50/50 that I would sit at this truck stop all weekend.  My next assignment came through a little while ago - picking up in Waco tomorrow at 10pm and running overnight to Liberty.  Fine.  That's the kick in the balls that I expected.  A little layover pay and a reset of my log book will help to cushion that one.

It's the one that you didn't expect... 

My Swedish buddy Sjoe just went for a little stroll.  Nary a tavern, saloon, or public house in sight.  Saturday off... no work on Sunday until 10pm... Nothing would suit this schedule better than sending the Swede out on a bender among the locals.  Alas, here I sit.  Woe is me.

UPDATE (6:04pm): Strictly for our friend Drew, if he still happens to stop by here from time to time, an unenforceable mandate?  Who could have seen that one coming?  This guy, of course.  You're on your way to a single-payer win and I'm not sure that anybody even knows it.

UPDATE #2 (6:39pm): I failed to mention, but it does bear mention, that this is my new... worst... week... evah.  We managed to drop below the previous worst week by a solid $67, leaving this pay period at $448.06.  Adding insult to injury, my shithead little brothers had prosciutto, meatballs, and roasted red peppers at Lombardi's for dinner.

Bastards.

3/26/10

The kick in the balls that you knew was coming is never the most painful.  It's the unanticipated stuff that leaves the biggest impression.  At least that's how I see it.

My pickup on the north side of Lubbock today took a few hours, but that wasn't a huge deal.  I had a pretty good idea of how today was going to end up, so it didn't make a lot of difference whether I was rolling early or not.  I was on my way soon enough.  The load of bird seed was a hefty 42,000 pounds and the wind was whipping out of the south, keeping my truck working hard just to maintain 64mph with my foot to the floor.  All in all though, a pretty standard trip back down to Waco.

I dropped my loaded trailer and sent in my empty call.  For one reason or another, we're not pulling empty trailers out of that distribution center right now.  This obviously makes it a little easier to park at a crowded truck stop at night, so good enough.  The computer, however, won't put me on the board without an empty.  I called in and the dispatcher put me on the board... #15... at 10pm on a Friday.  That's the kick in the balls that I knew was coming.

What I didn't anticipate was that the SubWay in Robinson would be out of cheese pizzas.  That's certainly unfortunate.  I've never had a fish sandwich from Wendy's and I don't intend to try one any time soon, so a cheese pizza sounded like a pretty good dinner.  Peckerheads.  I didn't see that one coming.

But the biggest kick in the balls had nothing to do with truck driving or eating or any of that, although a loose correlation to the pizza saga could be made by way of Lombardi's in Little Italy.  My brothers were kind enough to let me know that they took off on a weekend road trip to New York tonight.  As I sit in a truck stop waiting for work that probably isn't coming, those two shitheads will be celebrating my youngest brother's 23rd birthday in my favorite place in the world.  That one stings a little.  Peckerheads.

3/25/10

My crusade against excessive text messages and my refusal to participate in the Facebook and Twitter nonsense have left me at odds with some people.  As far as I'm concerned, the inability to look another person in the eye and hold a conversation is a pervasive issue in our society.  Saying "What's up?" on a Facebook page and waiting for a "Nothing much" in return just seems stupid.  Exchanging 47 text messages to say what could be said in a two-minute phone call seems likewise.  The amusing irony that I think bloggers (of the political sort, mainly) are the biggest shitheads out there is not lost on me.  In my defense though, I make no serious representation that this stuff is actually worth reading, unlike those who are paid for their drivel.  And if you want to sit and chat over a beer, that will always sound a hell of a lot more appealing to me than typing a blog post.  Well, my friends, just a little more vindication has come my way.  By eschewing Facebook, I've managed to dodge syphillis... or something.  When was the last time you were tested?  Suckers.

When I wake from natural causes at 10am (which is 9am for the weirdos out here), things are generally off to a good start.  Today was no exception.  It took me a minute to figure out where I was, but then I realized that I had 45 minutes until Big Brother would declare me legal to drive, and then I'd have a quick hop over to Big Spring for my delivery.  Not bad.  The forklift gal at the consignee had me empty in short order, after which I cruised down the street to the T/A for a delicious Italian BMT with double meat.  How did Consuela know that I like my bread cooked a little on the lighter side?  Good lookin' out, mi hermana.  Delicious.

I played some poker on my cell phone and waited to see what would come next.  I was #1 on the board when I sent in my empty call but it was afternoon, so I made no assumptions.  Had I gone far enough from Waco to escape the density of the black hole?  Only time would tell.

No.  I hadn't gone far enough.  Still circling the drain.  I was awakened from a nap after a few hours by the delightful chirp of the satellite unit.  Lubbock to Waco.  Son of a...  My pickup is tomorrow afternoon but I got the assignment early enough that I thought I would be able to find a parking space, so off to Lubbock I went.  No Bobby Knight and no Mike Leach anymore in this town, but I did find a place to put up my feet.  Good enough. 

After I get loaded and roll down to Waco tomorrow evening, I'm pretty sure that my week will be screwed (somewhere around $450 once I'm empty, with one day to go).  We all remember the infamous San Marcos affair (no offense Jerry).  And that was in a week when I was empty early on Friday with hours to burn.  My Friday hours will be mostly gone by the time I deliver tomorrow and I won't even have the 130-mile buffer working in my favor.  I'll be right at the center of this regional debacle.  That road trip to South Bend is only a month away and I really don't want to go home before then, but this shit is going to tempt me to employ the new 'Texas = Go Home' rule sooner rather than later.  We'll have to see how it plays out from here, I suppose.

3/24/10

What is the story with that rest area near Salado?  Holy smokes.  After rolling up Satan's Driveway last night (and encountering lane closures in Austin to negate the light 2:15am traffic, just for the record) I started to get a little tired.  I thought that I would try to duck off and sleep for a few hours before finishing the trip.  I was wrong.  Quite a few of the Texas rest areas are tough to navigate late at night.  When the benevolent truck drivers of the world need to rest and they don't find a parking space, they're often inclined to say fuck everybody else and park in a manner that blocks the road.  It's pretty aggravating, but to an extent I do understand.  I would guess that the number of trucks on the road has grown much faster than the amount of available parking over the years.

That rest area on I-35 is one of the upgraded locations though.  Where there once were a few parallel parking spaces, it now has a nice big truck parking area.  I've stopped there before and found that there were people parked parallel to the road and behind the rows of angled parking spaces, blocking access to spots that become empty after someone leaves.  What I encountered last night was of a whole other magnitude.  Holy smokes.  The driveways, which are not wide enough for trucks to park on them, had trucks parked on them.  The parking spaces were full.  The rows of people blocking access to the parking spaces were three deep.  That's not an exaggeration.  Three rows of trucks were parked behind the actual parking area.  How in the hell could any of those people leave?  They were blocked from every direction.  And what in the hell was the attraction about that particular rest area?

In any event, it took some extremely slow maneuvering to make my way back out to the freeway.  I decided to suck it up and drive straight to the customer's location, where I would be able to take a nap before my 8am appointment.  I found a locked gate, parked along the little access road, and hopped in the sack.  A guy woke me at 6:30am and told me to back into a certain door, then said that they didn't start work until 7:15am.  Gee, could have let me sleep a little longer then, eh champ?

Once I was unloaded at the first stop, I drove across to the other side of Waco to make my second delivery.  It had been scheduled as a drop/hook but, on account of the fact that I only had two pallets of freight, they decided to make it a live unload.  So I got to sit at the dock for ten minutes instead of dropping and hooking trailers.  Works for me.

I scooted over to the Pilot in Robinson for some much-needed sleep.  That place looks like a de facto Con-way Truckload terminal more often than not nowadays, given the number of loads that we carry into and out of Waco.  Today was no exception.  After getting drawn into the obligatory 'this is bullshit' conversation with a CTL colleague who has apparently been stuck in the black hole for a week, I finally climbed into bed and I was out before the first sheep was counted.  The nice cloudy and cool weather was a big help.

At some point in the afternoon, my satellite unit woke me with a new assignment.  Predictable patterns tend to produce predictable outcomes.  The pattern in question would be that any delivery in the area between Dallas and Austin will tend to be followed by a regional load out of Waco.  No different today, although this Texas regional trip is probably a little better than most.  I had to pick up at 8pm.  My ten hour break would be over at 7:45pm.  Good enough.  The shipper was only a few miles away.

I rolled over there as soon as it was legal to do so and made a quick drop/hook.  From Waco, tonight's drive took me westward on TX-6 through the countryside and onto I-20.  Aside from some rain here and there, causing the Texans to panic (as is their custom), there wasn't much to talk about.  Just a pretty relaxing night on the road.  Now, getting to the part where this trip is better than most of those Waco runs - the dispatch clocks in at 294 miles and I'm scheduled to deliver in Big Spring at noon.  300 miles a day, with a few longer ones sprinkled in from time to time, is plenty for me.  And the noon delivery meant that I had time to take a ten hour break tonight and get back on something of a normal schedule.  All in all, not too bad.

I spotted a sign for a rest area between Clyde and Abilene, to bring the story full circle.  If I could find a parking spot, I would be able to get some rest and then drive the last 120 miles in the morning.  I wasn't too optimistic when I saw that it was one of the old-style rest areas with only a handful of parallel parking spaces.  Not much chance of having any luck in that case, given the late hour.  The place actually turned out not to be crowded at all though, so here we are.  And that, my friends, puts an end to a long, long day.  Goodnight.

3/23/10

I'm instituting a new guideline, I think.  From now on, whenever I arrive in Texas, I'm going to request a day of home time immediately.  Otherwise I can't be surprised when I get sucked into the Goddamned black hole that is Waco.  I told my brothers recently that I would head back for the Blue and Gold game in April so I wasn't inclined to request home time last night.  And thus, I got burned.

After cruising around Laredo and tending to personal business all morning, I headed back to the terminal and found that I had moved from #43 to #23.  Not too shabby.  I had hardly any hours available though, so I wasn't expecting anything today.  I spent some time researching where to send my Swedish buddy Sjoe whenever he gets around to making some fireworks purchases.  Michigan's laws are a little restrictive with respect to aerial fireworks but the Swede apparently has diplomatic immunity.  I'm going to rely on him to put on a good Independence Day show for the Corleone family and friends this year.  I found some decent ideas so we'll have to see where things lead over the next couple of months.

Later in the evening I got the sort of undesirable load assignment that I suspected - overnight run with an 8am delivery.  That's about all anyone could assign to me, using the hours that I pick up at midnight, but the destination sucks the big one.  Waco.  I'll be shocked if I don't get at least one horseshit Texas regional run out of there before I make my way back into the world of OTR freight.  My two drops tomorrow morning aren't related to our main regional customer in Waco but it seems impossible to deliver in that area without getting sucked in.  From now on, I'm not taking any chances.  I'll just have to force my way out of Texas, take a day off, and make a fresh start from Michigan.

My remaining hour and a half under the 70 hour rule will get me through to midnight (when I pick up more hours) as long as I start work some time after 10:30pm.  I'm due at my first stop by 8am Central (9am Civilized).  The basic approach would be to hang around until after midnight and then make the 340 mile drive.  I've been awake all day though and I have no idea how the fatigue situation will play out, so I'll probably leave a little earlier and allow plenty of time for a long nap if one proves necessary.  The other side of the equation will be the 14 hour rule, since my second delivery is scheduled for noon.  If I leave too early, then my clock will run out before then.  I don't know.  Whatever.  Waco sucks.  That's really all I'm trying to say.

If you have any fireworks buying tips for that Swedish buddy of mine, don't hold back.  Thus far it looks like a place in Missouri is the leading contender.  320 pounds of explosives for $1,100 doesn't sound like a terrible deal, but I'm no expert in these matters.

3/22/10

The folks at the Fenian Godfather Culinary Institute were able to perform a significant experiment today.  They had long sought the perfect opportunity to test the hypothesis that the Subway Italian BMT with double meat is superior to a similarly constructed sandwich including the same ingredients.  That opportunity arrived this morning.  The little Exxon station where I spent last night is owned by some very friendly Hindu folks.  Inside the station, there is a sub shop that was once a SubWay.  A highly trained observer would be forced to conclude that, rather than continue to operate the SubWay, the owners chose to forsake the franchise fees and run it as an independent operation.  In true bargain basement fashion, they retained the SubWay menu boards and simply covered the SubWay branded portions with homemade signs.

The owners, however, did not change the names of the sandwiches.  Right there, in all its glory, I saw "Italian BMT."  Bring it on, Ravi, and give me double meat while you're at it.  Back out in the lab (or the truck, in less formal parlance), the study began.  The white bread was nearly identical to that found in any SubWay location.  The meats were similar but not identical.  The cheese was exactly the same.  Net result of Phase One - pretty tasty sandwich.

The trip down US-59 wasn't too bad for the most part.  I got to Houston before the afternoon traffic got totally out of hand, but an accident on the south side of town did slow things down for a little while.  I made my traditional dinner stop at the T/A in Ganado, where Phase Two of the experiment was to take place.  Eschewing my normal Italian herb & cheese bread in order to preserve the integrity of the study, I ordered my sandwich on plain white bread.  Net result of Phase Two - the Subway version is vastly superior.  The individual components don't seem any better than those that you could buy at your local deli, so I can only conclude that the sandwich artist makes all the difference.

Satisfied with my contribution to the collective body of scientific knowledge, I headed back out and finished the run into Laredo.  Once my trailer inspection was complete, the lad in the inspection bay handed back my paperwork and said that the broker was a 24/7 outfit.  Beauty.  No need to fight the morning traffic if I can deliver tonight.  I headed down the street and pulled into the driveway.  The security guard took a look at my paperwork and then told me that the broker opened at 7am.  Dammit.  I was definitely told that it was a 24/7 location.

He said that I could stay parked in the driveway and I would be the first one checked in tomorrow morning.  Good enough then.  About all I had planned to do back at the terminal was take a shower and cut my hair anyway.  That could wait until tomorrow.  So I kicked back and relaxed for a while.  Out of curiosity, I grabbed my computer and pulled up an aerial shot of the broker to see what kind of drop lot I would encounter in the morning.  Er, wait a second.  The aerial shot that came up when I typed in the broker's address was one of the next building over.  I backed out into the street, drove into the next driveway, and tried again.  Yep, that was the one.  24/7 drops and all that good stuff.  Beauty.  Now I get to put myself on the board with a whopping 1.5 hours available for tomorrow. 

Probably not a whole lot of freight delivering within 70 miles of here, meaning that there's a pretty good chance that tomorrow will be a day off.  I do need to get a birthday present for my little brother pretty quickly, so I guess I should have a chance to drive into town and shop around for a while.  As long as I can get my truck into a local post office and send a package to Michigan, I suppose that will work out pretty well.  Otherwise he'll just have to take whatever I can get shipped quickly from the internet.  Speaking of which, I do see that Sprint finally got some high-speed mobile internet access installed down here.  That's pretty nice.

3/21/10

Madame Speaker is... well... speaking.  Tune in quickly if that's your cup of tea.  I must admit that I do get a kick out of the goofy gal.  My favorite parts are when she repeats some generic talking point in the middle of a sentence - repeats some generic talking point in the middle of a sentence - as if it will sound more convincing the second time around.  I'm still pretty sure she has no idea what she's saying, but she seems awfully happy about it.  Congrats are in order, or something.

Another long day on the road today, but we're getting closer.  I angled down through Tennessee and Arkansas, then down onto US-59 before calling it a day.  600 more miles behind me and somewhere around 600 more to go.  I guess I could shave a few miles off by angling over to Austin, but we all know how I feel about I-35.  I'll just keep working my way southward and take my chances with Houston instead.

This cold weather comes as a pleasant surprise to me, given that my piece of shit air conditioner is broken again.  I don't know what that's all about.  Hopefully I can just make do until the next trip home, so I don't have to miss any more road time while getting repairs.  We'll see how it goes.