First things first - I just took a look at C-SPAN. I don't think the coverage is live at the moment, but in any case, who is the smoke show sitting next to Nancy Pelosi? ¡Ay, caramba! That broad might be enough to make me rethink my views on Washington, D.C. On second thought though, she is sitting next to Pelosi. There must be some kind of explanation.
Not much to say today, I guess. I'm hoping that I can get drunk enough to enjoy a chuckle once The One™ starts reading from his buddy. I'm off to a pretty good start. Other than that, I don't know. I can once again confirm that TV pretty much sucks, but we've covered that topic. I honestly don't know why people pay for cable or satellite service. A hundred channels of horseshit is about all I can find. To each his own, I suppose. Hockey playoffs tomorrow at least.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
4/30/10
If you would like to take a moment and review yesterday's tongue-in-cheek reflection on whether or not I've gained the favor of the Almighty, feel free to do so now. I'll wait...
All caught up? Good. As of this moment, let there be no mistake about it. I'm a degenerate heathen and I've been duly chastened. I've got plenty of time so I'll tell you the whole story of the day, but just know this in advance - I may end up with the last laugh. I usually do.
So the day started off in a normal way. I got out of bed, realized I was freezing my nuts off, and then spent a few minutes shivering while my truck tried to warm up. On the way down I-17, things went basically how our man J.T. told me last night that they would. There was some traffic once I got into the heart of Phoenix, but otherwise it wasn't bad. The only complete stoppage took place near the exit for Pinnacle Peak Road. The failure of people to merge properly was annoying enough, but the Pinnacle Peak Road sign pissed me off on a more fundamental level. This isn't even one of those xenophobic 'speak English' deals either. Both 'pinnacle' and 'peak' are English words and they both mean the same damned thing. Come up with a real name for your freaking peak, for crying out loud. Lazy bastards.
Down at the consignee, I checked in with a lady in the receiving office. She told me to back into Door 7 and that the forklift guys would get started at 9am. Beauty. I headed back out to my truck and started to back into Door 7. Then a guy came out and told me the bad news. The person in the receiving office who made my delivery appointment had erred. I was carrying polycarbonate pellets from a company called Dow. She apparently had been under the impression that I would be carrying aquarium gravel from a company called Dowell. In related news, I wish that I had been carrying aquarium gravel from Dowell. Door 7 was nice and easy.
I had to drive around to the other side of the building and blindside into a dock. That ain't fun. Toss in the fact that it had four of those damned concrete poles in front of it, right where I needed to swing my truck around, and it pretty much sucked balls. I'm no super trucker. I've never claimed to be one. Be that as it may, I'm good enough at my job that it should never take me a half hour to back into a loading dock. It took a half hour this morning. That's horseshit.
Whatever dude. I had a good weekend assignment waiting for me. I wasn't gonna let The Man get me down. I cruised over to Chandler and, if you don't mind me saying (or even if you do mind), I pulled off a badass backing job to hit another tough loading dock. I was at the shipper for a little while and then sent on my way.
Holy smokes! What is this I see? A 13,000 pound payload? Be still my beating heart. Yeah, it's pathetic when that sort of thing is so exciting, but this is the life that I choose to lead. Pathetic in more ways than you'll ever know. After dragging so many 40K+ loads around lately, I was positively ecstatic to see a nice light one. I just needed to top off my fuel tanks in Eloy and then enjoy the ride.
I got to the Pilot in Eloy and found all of the fuel lanes occupied. That happens. No big deal. Here's the thing though, and consider it another of my patented public service announcements. You wanna bring your RV into the truck stop - no worries. Maybe you don't actually need diesel fuel but the diesel lanes seem nice and easy to access - I'm cool with that. Actually, I do exactly the same thing when I need to take a piss. Just wanna walk the dogs and stretch your legs for a while - God love you. Here's the thing though. Some of us are trying to earn a living and many of us are paid by the mile. While sitting in line and waiting for a fuel lane, we earn exactly zero dollars an hour. So, when there's nobody in front of you, just pull up to the yellow line and let me get my fuel. Help a brother out. That's all I ask. (And no, none of the RVers were my buddy Tray's in-laws. I looked.)
I noticed as I was backing out from behind one RV and pulling into the space vacated by another RV that something about my brakes seemed a little off. They worked fine and all, but that last split second of motion wasn't quite right. Just as I went from 'barely moving' to 'completely stopped,' there was a little bit of a whine. Then the actual 'stopped' part just seemed wrong for some reason. Too abrupt or something. I can't really explain it, but I guess you would have to spend 90% of your life sitting in a machine in order to appreciate what I'm saying. I popped the hood while the fuel pumps were running and took a look.
There were a series of extremely tiny grooves or cracks (I couldn't tell which) on the surface of the brake rotors. They weren't running in circles like you would see from normal brake wear though. They were across the grain. "Probably nothing," I thought to myself. "Lots of time on this load though, might as well get it checked out," I also thought. I had my gloves on and I have asbestos fingers from my restaurant days, so I stuck my hand in and felt for the brake pads. No problem there. Plenty of thickness. Just whatever was going on with the rotors. I called our road service department and gave them the rundown. I'm no mechanic so I was looking for a little bit of guidance. Kenworth dealer in Tucson, open until 8pm, stop in and get it checked out. Beauty.
It was 2:45pm locally when I got to the Kenworth dealer. They were open until 8pm. Have you ever had a brake job done? I have. It takes a half hour, assuming they need to machine the rotors. If you grind the rotors to shit and need them replaced (as my ex-wife was occasionally known to do), it takes even less time. Just take the old parts off and put new ones on. Hell, with air brakes I'm not even sure they need to bleed the brake lines. So anyhow... there weren't a lot of trucks ahead of mine. My truck was pulled into a service bay before too long. Things were looking A-OK. 8pm out here is 11pm in the real world. Even if I lost the rest of today, I could get back on schedule with an early start tomorrow.
I hung out in the lounge for a while and knocked two episodes of Cash Cab out of the ballpark. I even knew that Yalta was the site of the post-WWII conference that reorganized Europe. I have literally no idea how I knew that. I got it though, unlike the real contestants. Then the service guy came in and told me that I would be staying in a hotel tonight. Fair enough. I'll just grab my truck tomorrow and do some hard driving, right? Nope. I need new brake rotors and apparently the Kenworth parts department doesn't keep brake rotors in stock. What the fuck? Seriously. I can understand if there's a major issue like the one I encountered the last time I traveled this route. That's a different story. But brake rotors? Come on. Long story short - parts will be ordered on Monday and I'll get my truck back on Tuesday. And that's how you lose $369 when you're a truck driver.
That kinda sucks, right? Well, maybe a little. If you think that's the worst part of my day though, you're sadly mistaken. As a working class fella from the Midwest, with Irish Catholic roots, my affection for the University of Notre Dame may have been pre-ordained. I don't know. I do know that I've loved my Fighting Irish as long as I can remember. I still get goosebumps when I hear that douchebag from NBC say, "Here come the Irish." Sometimes they disappoint me and sometimes they make me proud. I enjoy the uncertainty of it all and I get a kick out of the universal hatred that comes from loyalists of every other college. What I don't appreciate is a kick in the balls from Notre Dame itself. Oh... dear... Lord...
The moment when this abomination hit my e-mail inbox was easily the worst part of my day. What the...?
Screw it. So I caught a ride from one of the mechanics to the local trucker motel. He told me that the place had a good Mexican restaurant and a bar. Awesome. Further to that, today is Friday. On Fridays, I learned, they have a mariachi band and on Saturdays they have other live music. Awesome. I never really heard a lot of mariachi music until I took over the Red Robin restaurant in Toledo. My cooks would always play the stuff (loudly) in the back of the house where they prepped the food for the kitchen. Had I not taken that job, I never would have known that I really like mariachi music. And these poor suckers are three hours behind me. Hehehe. I told you that I may end up with the last laugh. As long as I don't spend too much of the money that I won't be earning this weekend, I think I might be right.
All caught up? Good. As of this moment, let there be no mistake about it. I'm a degenerate heathen and I've been duly chastened. I've got plenty of time so I'll tell you the whole story of the day, but just know this in advance - I may end up with the last laugh. I usually do.
So the day started off in a normal way. I got out of bed, realized I was freezing my nuts off, and then spent a few minutes shivering while my truck tried to warm up. On the way down I-17, things went basically how our man J.T. told me last night that they would. There was some traffic once I got into the heart of Phoenix, but otherwise it wasn't bad. The only complete stoppage took place near the exit for Pinnacle Peak Road. The failure of people to merge properly was annoying enough, but the Pinnacle Peak Road sign pissed me off on a more fundamental level. This isn't even one of those xenophobic 'speak English' deals either. Both 'pinnacle' and 'peak' are English words and they both mean the same damned thing. Come up with a real name for your freaking peak, for crying out loud. Lazy bastards.
Down at the consignee, I checked in with a lady in the receiving office. She told me to back into Door 7 and that the forklift guys would get started at 9am. Beauty. I headed back out to my truck and started to back into Door 7. Then a guy came out and told me the bad news. The person in the receiving office who made my delivery appointment had erred. I was carrying polycarbonate pellets from a company called Dow. She apparently had been under the impression that I would be carrying aquarium gravel from a company called Dowell. In related news, I wish that I had been carrying aquarium gravel from Dowell. Door 7 was nice and easy.
I had to drive around to the other side of the building and blindside into a dock. That ain't fun. Toss in the fact that it had four of those damned concrete poles in front of it, right where I needed to swing my truck around, and it pretty much sucked balls. I'm no super trucker. I've never claimed to be one. Be that as it may, I'm good enough at my job that it should never take me a half hour to back into a loading dock. It took a half hour this morning. That's horseshit.
Whatever dude. I had a good weekend assignment waiting for me. I wasn't gonna let The Man get me down. I cruised over to Chandler and, if you don't mind me saying (or even if you do mind), I pulled off a badass backing job to hit another tough loading dock. I was at the shipper for a little while and then sent on my way.
Holy smokes! What is this I see? A 13,000 pound payload? Be still my beating heart. Yeah, it's pathetic when that sort of thing is so exciting, but this is the life that I choose to lead. Pathetic in more ways than you'll ever know. After dragging so many 40K+ loads around lately, I was positively ecstatic to see a nice light one. I just needed to top off my fuel tanks in Eloy and then enjoy the ride.
I got to the Pilot in Eloy and found all of the fuel lanes occupied. That happens. No big deal. Here's the thing though, and consider it another of my patented public service announcements. You wanna bring your RV into the truck stop - no worries. Maybe you don't actually need diesel fuel but the diesel lanes seem nice and easy to access - I'm cool with that. Actually, I do exactly the same thing when I need to take a piss. Just wanna walk the dogs and stretch your legs for a while - God love you. Here's the thing though. Some of us are trying to earn a living and many of us are paid by the mile. While sitting in line and waiting for a fuel lane, we earn exactly zero dollars an hour. So, when there's nobody in front of you, just pull up to the yellow line and let me get my fuel. Help a brother out. That's all I ask. (And no, none of the RVers were my buddy Tray's in-laws. I looked.)
I noticed as I was backing out from behind one RV and pulling into the space vacated by another RV that something about my brakes seemed a little off. They worked fine and all, but that last split second of motion wasn't quite right. Just as I went from 'barely moving' to 'completely stopped,' there was a little bit of a whine. Then the actual 'stopped' part just seemed wrong for some reason. Too abrupt or something. I can't really explain it, but I guess you would have to spend 90% of your life sitting in a machine in order to appreciate what I'm saying. I popped the hood while the fuel pumps were running and took a look.
There were a series of extremely tiny grooves or cracks (I couldn't tell which) on the surface of the brake rotors. They weren't running in circles like you would see from normal brake wear though. They were across the grain. "Probably nothing," I thought to myself. "Lots of time on this load though, might as well get it checked out," I also thought. I had my gloves on and I have asbestos fingers from my restaurant days, so I stuck my hand in and felt for the brake pads. No problem there. Plenty of thickness. Just whatever was going on with the rotors. I called our road service department and gave them the rundown. I'm no mechanic so I was looking for a little bit of guidance. Kenworth dealer in Tucson, open until 8pm, stop in and get it checked out. Beauty.
It was 2:45pm locally when I got to the Kenworth dealer. They were open until 8pm. Have you ever had a brake job done? I have. It takes a half hour, assuming they need to machine the rotors. If you grind the rotors to shit and need them replaced (as my ex-wife was occasionally known to do), it takes even less time. Just take the old parts off and put new ones on. Hell, with air brakes I'm not even sure they need to bleed the brake lines. So anyhow... there weren't a lot of trucks ahead of mine. My truck was pulled into a service bay before too long. Things were looking A-OK. 8pm out here is 11pm in the real world. Even if I lost the rest of today, I could get back on schedule with an early start tomorrow.
I hung out in the lounge for a while and knocked two episodes of Cash Cab out of the ballpark. I even knew that Yalta was the site of the post-WWII conference that reorganized Europe. I have literally no idea how I knew that. I got it though, unlike the real contestants. Then the service guy came in and told me that I would be staying in a hotel tonight. Fair enough. I'll just grab my truck tomorrow and do some hard driving, right? Nope. I need new brake rotors and apparently the Kenworth parts department doesn't keep brake rotors in stock. What the fuck? Seriously. I can understand if there's a major issue like the one I encountered the last time I traveled this route. That's a different story. But brake rotors? Come on. Long story short - parts will be ordered on Monday and I'll get my truck back on Tuesday. And that's how you lose $369 when you're a truck driver.
That kinda sucks, right? Well, maybe a little. If you think that's the worst part of my day though, you're sadly mistaken. As a working class fella from the Midwest, with Irish Catholic roots, my affection for the University of Notre Dame may have been pre-ordained. I don't know. I do know that I've loved my Fighting Irish as long as I can remember. I still get goosebumps when I hear that douchebag from NBC say, "Here come the Irish." Sometimes they disappoint me and sometimes they make me proud. I enjoy the uncertainty of it all and I get a kick out of the universal hatred that comes from loyalists of every other college. What I don't appreciate is a kick in the balls from Notre Dame itself. Oh... dear... Lord...
The moment when this abomination hit my e-mail inbox was easily the worst part of my day. What the...?
Screw it. So I caught a ride from one of the mechanics to the local trucker motel. He told me that the place had a good Mexican restaurant and a bar. Awesome. Further to that, today is Friday. On Fridays, I learned, they have a mariachi band and on Saturdays they have other live music. Awesome. I never really heard a lot of mariachi music until I took over the Red Robin restaurant in Toledo. My cooks would always play the stuff (loudly) in the back of the house where they prepped the food for the kitchen. Had I not taken that job, I never would have known that I really like mariachi music. And these poor suckers are three hours behind me. Hehehe. I told you that I may end up with the last laugh. As long as I don't spend too much of the money that I won't be earning this weekend, I think I might be right.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
4/29/10
Lugging a 44,000 pound payload up and down mountains, against the wind, will have a tendency to make a driver feel like he's being punished for something. At least that's the case for me. And we all know who created the mountains and the wind. So the first few hours of my day weren't a whole lot of fun.
It turned around though. Somewhere amidst a barrage of asinine satellite messages this afternoon, I managed to get a new pre-plan to replace the one that came and went yesterday. It's not quite as long as the original but, taking me from Chandler, Arizona to Texas over the weekend, it will do quite nicely. That was pretty sweet. Then, just before I stopped at the Pilot in Jamestown, New Mexico for an Italian BMT with double meat, I started to see traffic sitting still on the eastbound side of the freeway.
It turned around though. Somewhere amidst a barrage of asinine satellite messages this afternoon, I managed to get a new pre-plan to replace the one that came and went yesterday. It's not quite as long as the original but, taking me from Chandler, Arizona to Texas over the weekend, it will do quite nicely. That was pretty sweet. Then, just before I stopped at the Pilot in Jamestown, New Mexico for an Italian BMT with double meat, I started to see traffic sitting still on the eastbound side of the freeway.
I could have snapped these kinds of photos for a while but, you know, driving a truck and all. That freaking traffic jam ran from somewhere in the neighborhood of the 45 mile marker all the way past Exit 26. People were walking their dogs in the median and everything. Brutal. My side had no issues. That was pretty sweet.
So there I was, rolling along and thinking "Punishment, shmunishment, somebody up there actually likes me. I'm way better than those poor suckers." I don't get into the weird superstitions of the ancients and such, but it was funny that this was exactly when a snowstorm blew across I-40. Okay then. I get it.
As I rolled down I-17 and got past the snowy weather, I had the good fortune to spend fifteen minutes climbing a mountain at 20mph behind a truck that was apparently even heavier than mine. In the context of the preceding few paragraphs, well... just look...
Now, I dig the whole 'Jesus is coming' thing. I really do. Whatever your beliefs may be, have no worries, you won't be getting lectured on this blog. Anyone who can read one or two posts can figure out that I'm no holy roller. I believe what I believe and others believe otherwise, but I do think that everyone would do well to move toward a greater state of grace, just in case. Even if it's all a superstition and there is no afterlife, there's no harm in trying to do things the right way. So those trailers and billboards and stuff are a handy reminder as far as I'm concerned. But what's with the word "soon?" That's not very specific. Does this guy know something that I don't? I would appreciate some clarification.
I got down to the Shell truck stop at Exit 262 and saw that they had not only a SubWay where I could get another Italian BMT with double meat for dinner, but also plenty of room for me to drag out the damned weight bench and have another go at it tonight. Maybe someone up there really does like me after all. Heh.
It looks like I'll have a little over 60 miles to cover in the morning to make my delivery. Then I'll bounce over to Chandler and pick up a load headed for Garland, Texas. Garland is close enough to Waco for me to invoke the 'Texas = Go Home' doctrine. I went back to work on Monday. Therefore Sunday is Day #7. Therefore, as long as I'm not delivering early in the day on Sunday, I'll be sending in my request for a day off in Michigan. Screw it. Someone else can deal with that Waco black hole.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
4/28/10
Do you remember the scene in the movie Airplane! when the guy said that he picked the wrong day to stop sniffing glue? I think I picked the wrong day to start lifting weights again. It had to happen, obviously, but the timing certainly hasn't been ideal. Trying to fight the wind across I-40 for ten hours when you feel like there are knives piercing your shoulders every time they move is quite difficult. Quite difficult indeed. Since I did a fairly thorough workout on Monday, today was Day #2 of the aftermath. That's always the worst one. Bummer.
I managed to knock out another 580 miles or so, through Oklahoma and Texas and into New Mexico. From here I'll have somewhere over 500 miles left to Phoenix. The pain will subside a little tomorrow, which is a good thing. Then tomorrow night will bring another workout and we'll have to see where that leads. Slowly but surely things should improve. It's gonna be a rough 'slowly but surely' though. I wish I could buy into the Wall Street Journal's take on things. Unfortunately, I think I believe that Brazilian dude a little more.
As I was rolling across the Texas panhandle this afternoon, I received a pre-plan for my next assignment. That's always a pleasant surprise when my delivery is still two days away. It was another decent run too - picking up on Friday in Nogales and heading to Missouri. Then, five minutes later, the load was unassigned. "Wrong load," the message said. Apparently there was no 'right load' since I never got another pre-plan. Bummer.
At least the little outpost where I've stopped for the night was still open when I arrived. I rolled in at 6:45pm locally and headed inside to grab something to eat and drink. As I sat down to enjoy my dinner, they shut off the TV and locked the doors. It turns out that they close at 7pm. This probably makes some sense since I'm out in the middle of nowhere. Probably not a lot of 24-hour action in this neck of the woods. I was just glad I didn't start driving ten minutes later this morning. Small victories, my friends. Small victories.
I managed to knock out another 580 miles or so, through Oklahoma and Texas and into New Mexico. From here I'll have somewhere over 500 miles left to Phoenix. The pain will subside a little tomorrow, which is a good thing. Then tomorrow night will bring another workout and we'll have to see where that leads. Slowly but surely things should improve. It's gonna be a rough 'slowly but surely' though. I wish I could buy into the Wall Street Journal's take on things. Unfortunately, I think I believe that Brazilian dude a little more.
As I was rolling across the Texas panhandle this afternoon, I received a pre-plan for my next assignment. That's always a pleasant surprise when my delivery is still two days away. It was another decent run too - picking up on Friday in Nogales and heading to Missouri. Then, five minutes later, the load was unassigned. "Wrong load," the message said. Apparently there was no 'right load' since I never got another pre-plan. Bummer.
At least the little outpost where I've stopped for the night was still open when I arrived. I rolled in at 6:45pm locally and headed inside to grab something to eat and drink. As I sat down to enjoy my dinner, they shut off the TV and locked the doors. It turns out that they close at 7pm. This probably makes some sense since I'm out in the middle of nowhere. Probably not a lot of 24-hour action in this neck of the woods. I was just glad I didn't start driving ten minutes later this morning. Small victories, my friends. Small victories.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
4/27/10
I'm going to do a favor for the lovely ladies of Oklahoma tonight. Since a new study says that you'll date 24 losers before you find Mr. Right, feel free to spend the evening with me on the east side of Tulsa and you can knock one more off your list. I'll even pick up the tab and you don't have to dress up, so you can save the £85.38 for your next ill-fated rendezvous. Hey, what can I say? I'm always looking to help.
I wasn't terribly sore this morning when I finally rolled out of bed. That's always nice, although Morning #2 tends to be the worst one. I just needed to head inside and grab a bag of peanuts from the vending machine before leaving the rest area and starting my day. You know, little shot of protein and monounsaturated fat to kick things off and whatnot. Alas, I gave my last $1.50 to a freaking beggar before I went to bed last night. No peanuts for me. Boo! People who need "gas money." Boo! But hey, you know, I'm always looking to help.
The day's drive was fairly productive, getting me through Illinois and Missouri without any major delays. There was a bit of a tie-up on the west side of St. Louis, but nothing to rival my last westbound trip through the area. I was originally planning to scoot through Tulsa and stop in Stroud, Oklahoma tonight. Then I figured that I would probably catch a nice fast internet connection to watch the hockey game if I stopped in Tulsa instead. So that's what I did. Looks like we have a winner.
That'll do the trick. The broadcast isn't up yet, but those of you who are limited to the interwebs and feeling so inclined may want to try one of the links posted in this thread over at myp2p. Lots of bitrates and platforms to try, but something is bound to click. There's also a listing at channelsurfing.net. You know me. Always looking to help.
I guess I might as well throw in a video clip tonight, just for shits and giggles. Er, shitty deals and giggles. I was listening to the hearing on CNBC all day today and, while my esteemed senator was quoting an e-mail from a Goldman Sachs dude, he did seem to overdo it a bit. Still pretty amusing.
I wasn't terribly sore this morning when I finally rolled out of bed. That's always nice, although Morning #2 tends to be the worst one. I just needed to head inside and grab a bag of peanuts from the vending machine before leaving the rest area and starting my day. You know, little shot of protein and monounsaturated fat to kick things off and whatnot. Alas, I gave my last $1.50 to a freaking beggar before I went to bed last night. No peanuts for me. Boo! People who need "gas money." Boo! But hey, you know, I'm always looking to help.
The day's drive was fairly productive, getting me through Illinois and Missouri without any major delays. There was a bit of a tie-up on the west side of St. Louis, but nothing to rival my last westbound trip through the area. I was originally planning to scoot through Tulsa and stop in Stroud, Oklahoma tonight. Then I figured that I would probably catch a nice fast internet connection to watch the hockey game if I stopped in Tulsa instead. So that's what I did. Looks like we have a winner.
I guess I might as well throw in a video clip tonight, just for shits and giggles. Er, shitty deals and giggles. I was listening to the hearing on CNBC all day today and, while my esteemed senator was quoting an e-mail from a Goldman Sachs dude, he did seem to overdo it a bit. Still pretty amusing.
Monday, April 26, 2010
4/26/10
The inevitable conclusion to a week off is that, eventually, a fella must get back to work. Until I convince myself to go the full-on welfare route, I'm left with the unfortunate need to earn a living. So back at it we go...
'Jump right in with both feet' would have to be today's slogan. I called the terminal this morning to put myself on the board, found that I was #12, and went back to bed. The first couple of 90-minute checks found that I was moving up the list steadily, with more napping in-between. At 11am I found that I had reached #2 so I headed up to the terminal. By the time I got to my truck, there was an assignment waiting for me. Beauty.
My pickup was scheduled for 1pm in Hamtramck so there wasn't a lot of time to waste. I grabbed my empty trailer, topped off the gas tanks and headed through Detroit. Nice light traffic and quick work by the shippers found me rolling out of town with my 44,000 pound payload by 1:30pm. Not bad. The timing allowed me to get back through Detroit and Ann Arbor before the afternoon traffic picked up. On the flip side, I got to the Gary-Chicago area right in the midst of rush hour. Things moved reasonably well in my direction though. The only major tie-ups appeared to be on the eastbound side.
My assignment has me scheduled to deliver in Phoenix on Friday morning, so a few solid days of driving were in order. My intent for today was to get clear of Chicago and then find a place to call it a night. This would leave me within three reasonable driving shifts of I-17, where I plan to spend Thursday night and then drive into Phoenix on Friday. I received an ETA of 9am MST, which is noon for us civilized folks, so I won't have to finish the trip at too ridiculous an hour. I got down onto I-55 and grabbed a spot at the rest area outside Pontiac before deciding that I had driven far enough for today. All in all, solid first day back on the job.
There is some sad news to report though. It seems that the pendulum has swung heavily in favor of laziness and gluttony for long enough. It's time to pay the piper, so to speak. So my damned weight bench is over there, staring at me with its typical sarcastic glare. I'm gonna have to drag the son of a bitch out and see what we can do about this situation. Prediction for tomorrow - pain.
'Jump right in with both feet' would have to be today's slogan. I called the terminal this morning to put myself on the board, found that I was #12, and went back to bed. The first couple of 90-minute checks found that I was moving up the list steadily, with more napping in-between. At 11am I found that I had reached #2 so I headed up to the terminal. By the time I got to my truck, there was an assignment waiting for me. Beauty.
My pickup was scheduled for 1pm in Hamtramck so there wasn't a lot of time to waste. I grabbed my empty trailer, topped off the gas tanks and headed through Detroit. Nice light traffic and quick work by the shippers found me rolling out of town with my 44,000 pound payload by 1:30pm. Not bad. The timing allowed me to get back through Detroit and Ann Arbor before the afternoon traffic picked up. On the flip side, I got to the Gary-Chicago area right in the midst of rush hour. Things moved reasonably well in my direction though. The only major tie-ups appeared to be on the eastbound side.
My assignment has me scheduled to deliver in Phoenix on Friday morning, so a few solid days of driving were in order. My intent for today was to get clear of Chicago and then find a place to call it a night. This would leave me within three reasonable driving shifts of I-17, where I plan to spend Thursday night and then drive into Phoenix on Friday. I received an ETA of 9am MST, which is noon for us civilized folks, so I won't have to finish the trip at too ridiculous an hour. I got down onto I-55 and grabbed a spot at the rest area outside Pontiac before deciding that I had driven far enough for today. All in all, solid first day back on the job.
There is some sad news to report though. It seems that the pendulum has swung heavily in favor of laziness and gluttony for long enough. It's time to pay the piper, so to speak. So my damned weight bench is over there, staring at me with its typical sarcastic glare. I'm gonna have to drag the son of a bitch out and see what we can do about this situation. Prediction for tomorrow - pain.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
4/25/10
If you work for my company, you're parked in Taylor tonight, and you have 'Sojurner' as the nickname on the door of your truck, then consider this a public service announcement. The word is 'sojourner.' You're welcome.
During a dreary and rainy ride back from Indiana to Michigan, it was once again made clear to me that I'm far more comfortable when I'm the one holding the steering wheel. There was one spot on I-94 where traffic came to a dead stop due to an accident. I tried like hell to keep my mouth shut and let my brother do the driving, but when he was still going 60mph at the point where I would have been nearly stopped, I had to become that guy. Then the same situation occurred as we approached a construction zone. One might assume that the first scene of carnage might have encouraged a little more following distance the next time. Nope. The kid loves to tailgate. Thankfully my time as a passenger has come to an end.
I stopped by the terminal a little while ago to drop off a few things. The yard wasn't quite as packed as it had been last weekend when I got into town, but there were definitely a lot of trucks. I had been thinking about spending the night in the truck and getting back into my normal routine. With that many other trucks hanging around though, I'm probably not going anywhere in the morning. Might as well spend the night at home and take it from there.
During a dreary and rainy ride back from Indiana to Michigan, it was once again made clear to me that I'm far more comfortable when I'm the one holding the steering wheel. There was one spot on I-94 where traffic came to a dead stop due to an accident. I tried like hell to keep my mouth shut and let my brother do the driving, but when he was still going 60mph at the point where I would have been nearly stopped, I had to become that guy. Then the same situation occurred as we approached a construction zone. One might assume that the first scene of carnage might have encouraged a little more following distance the next time. Nope. The kid loves to tailgate. Thankfully my time as a passenger has come to an end.
I stopped by the terminal a little while ago to drop off a few things. The yard wasn't quite as packed as it had been last weekend when I got into town, but there were definitely a lot of trucks. I had been thinking about spending the night in the truck and getting back into my normal routine. With that many other trucks hanging around though, I'm probably not going anywhere in the morning. Might as well spend the night at home and take it from there.
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