I sure hope there's something in those Wikileak documents about our navy secretly using NFL players on its football team. Otherwise I'm pretty sure we've reached a new low in Fighting Irish history. It was bad enough to see the 43 game streak end a few years back, but Notre Dame was playing a bunch of freshmen at the time and the game was close. Then last year was frustrating, but again at least it was a decent game. Today a bunch of 300+ pound men got pushed around by a bunch of 240 pound men. A bunch of guys who run the 40 yard dash in 5.2 seconds ran circles around a bunch of guys who do it in 4.4. Absolutely humiliating.
Adding insult to injury, today was the first time all season that my schedule allowed me to see a whole game. My youngest brother had given me a gift card to Hooters for my birthday, so a buddy and I went there for lunch today. Believe it or not, I've never been all that impressed with Hooters (at least not with the capital 'H,' if you catch my drift, and I think you do). I went there several years ago with a friend and found that the food sucked, the prices were high, and the women weren't any better than those at many of the local dive bars around here. Today I found that not much has changed over the years. A gift card is a gift card though, so there we were. Getting back to the 'insult to injury' part... I had to work tonight so I didn't even get to knock back any beers to dull the pain. Woe is me.
Adding injury to insult... or something... my ass hurts again. I got a lot of bed rest on Thursday and then didn't have to do much walking at work yesterday. So by the time I skipped last night's workout, my back had been rested better than at any point since it was injured. Whenever I went to bed last night I had almost started to forget about the pain and such. Almost. Then I got out of bed this morning feeling pretty stiff. Not too bad though... yet. The pain started to kick in between my first and second stops tonight and kept building as time went along. By the time I left the gym after my workout, it was hard to get into my car. Shit.
I stopped at Meijer on the way home and grabbed a heating pad and a couple of boxes of those ThermaCare heat wrap things. I'm grasping at straws here, but I ain't ready to quit the fight just yet. I'm sitting on the heating pad as I type this and the pain seems to be easing a little bit. Maybe there's hope for tomorrow then. I'll have two loads, each with two stops, so I should be at work for around eleven hours or so. If today's pattern gets repeated, only with double the working hours, it's gonna be ugly. My hope is that those heat wraps, combined with some Aleve, can get me through to my day off on Monday. That's my hope.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
10/22/10
My car is fixed. That's pretty good, I suppose. You know what's funny though? The Mazda dealership put in a new thermostat and housing. The cost for the parts - $62.75. The friend of a friend of the family who replaced my engine also put in a new thermostat and housing. The cost of the parts when he did it - $120.00. And he did it wrong. That's pretty funny. I always thought that the dealerships were the most expensive place to have repairs done. You live and learn, I suppose. I never have trusted mechanics, so this just confirms that I've been prescient... or whatever.
Work was work. I had to wait a little while on the Grand Rapids end of my first trip as they were loading a trailer with cheese for me to bring back to Livonia. Then, between the first and second trips, I wound up shuttling a few of our recently repaired trailers over to the dairy.
Once I finally made my way down to Monroe for the one milk delivery of the day, things went relatively quickly, if not simply. That loading dock is one of the tougher ones that we have to use. The building originally had no loading dock, then this one was added as an afterthought. To back in, you have to come around the back of the building, then back to the blindside from a skinny alley with a guardrail on the left, down into a pit, with a storage trailer on one side and a concrete wall on the other. It's pretty difficult. I got in there without too much trouble, then found that nobody had come to the back door yet to let me in.
I tried opening the door, as sometimes the Kroger people will unhook the latch but leave the door itself shut until I get to it. The door started to open. Beauty. Then it stopped opening. Huh? Must be stuck on something, I thought. So I lowered it down and tried again. Same thing. Huh? Finding that there still was nobody to let me in, and wanting to get my milk delivered so that I could finish my shift, I took an unconventional approach to the matter. I lifted the door as far as I could, then held it up with one arm as I slid my ass underneath and into the building. That worked. It turned out that there was a bungee cord holding the door shut. Not exactly the most effective security approach if a fat dude like me can shimmy inside, but whatever. Not my problem.
The stock room at that store is quite tiny, so I started looking for a way to move enough shit out of the way so that I could get to my trailer. At this point a young guy came into the room and explained that nobody could find a key to the bay door for the loading dock. If they weren't able to track down someone with a key, he continued, I would have to come back some other time. I'm not sure if the youngster is aware of how this little arrangement works, but I most certainly was not going to come back another time. As I hung out in the back room awaiting word about the key situation, I decided to do something else unconventional. I checked to see if the bay door was even locked. It wasn't. Derp.
I got my eight pallets of milk unloaded and grabbed their three pallets of empties, then headed back to Livonia. My unfortunate lodger had retrieved my car for me this afternoon, so he got the additional pleasure of driving out to Livonia and picking me up from work. After I drove home and dropped him off, I found myself unable to summon to motivation to turn back around and go all the way out to Novi for a workout. So I just stayed home. Screw it. I'll get back at it tomorrow. I have a 5:30pm pull time and a few stops out along I-96, so I should be done somewhere around midnight. That should work pretty well.
Work was work. I had to wait a little while on the Grand Rapids end of my first trip as they were loading a trailer with cheese for me to bring back to Livonia. Then, between the first and second trips, I wound up shuttling a few of our recently repaired trailers over to the dairy.
Once I finally made my way down to Monroe for the one milk delivery of the day, things went relatively quickly, if not simply. That loading dock is one of the tougher ones that we have to use. The building originally had no loading dock, then this one was added as an afterthought. To back in, you have to come around the back of the building, then back to the blindside from a skinny alley with a guardrail on the left, down into a pit, with a storage trailer on one side and a concrete wall on the other. It's pretty difficult. I got in there without too much trouble, then found that nobody had come to the back door yet to let me in.
I tried opening the door, as sometimes the Kroger people will unhook the latch but leave the door itself shut until I get to it. The door started to open. Beauty. Then it stopped opening. Huh? Must be stuck on something, I thought. So I lowered it down and tried again. Same thing. Huh? Finding that there still was nobody to let me in, and wanting to get my milk delivered so that I could finish my shift, I took an unconventional approach to the matter. I lifted the door as far as I could, then held it up with one arm as I slid my ass underneath and into the building. That worked. It turned out that there was a bungee cord holding the door shut. Not exactly the most effective security approach if a fat dude like me can shimmy inside, but whatever. Not my problem.
The stock room at that store is quite tiny, so I started looking for a way to move enough shit out of the way so that I could get to my trailer. At this point a young guy came into the room and explained that nobody could find a key to the bay door for the loading dock. If they weren't able to track down someone with a key, he continued, I would have to come back some other time. I'm not sure if the youngster is aware of how this little arrangement works, but I most certainly was not going to come back another time. As I hung out in the back room awaiting word about the key situation, I decided to do something else unconventional. I checked to see if the bay door was even locked. It wasn't. Derp.
I got my eight pallets of milk unloaded and grabbed their three pallets of empties, then headed back to Livonia. My unfortunate lodger had retrieved my car for me this afternoon, so he got the additional pleasure of driving out to Livonia and picking me up from work. After I drove home and dropped him off, I found myself unable to summon to motivation to turn back around and go all the way out to Novi for a workout. So I just stayed home. Screw it. I'll get back at it tomorrow. I have a 5:30pm pull time and a few stops out along I-96, so I should be done somewhere around midnight. That should work pretty well.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
10/21/10
How do you feel about your gut instincts? Mine tend to lead me astray quite a bit of the time but, when push comes to shove, I usually follow them. Sometimes they're right. Sometimes they're wrong.
I got out of bed this morning and prepared to drive my car over to the shop in Allen Park where my replacement engine had been installed. Just before I walked out the door, the pervasive thought in my mind was, "Fuck that guy. I don't trust him." So that was that. Even though I probably had some financial interest in sticking with the same shop, as I noted in last night's post, I decided to drive down to the Mazda dealer in Woodhaven instead. Instincts. Sometimes right, sometimes wrong, always persuasive, at least in my case.
After I dropped off the car, the courtesy shuttle gave me a ride home from the dealership. Then I had time to do some reading and take a long nap. I got a call at some point in the afternoon from the boss man in the service department. The thermostat housing on my engine is cracked. "Did you get a new engine in that car?" he asked. Not too long ago, of course. Apparently homeboy used some kind of silicone sealant on my new thermostat housing when he installed the engine. Apparently this silicone sealant wasn't suitable to the purpose for which it was used. Apparently this caused my brand new thermostat housing to crack. (Guess who was feeling pretty glad that he trusted his instincts this morning. Fuck that guy.)
$234 more dollars sounds relatively tame in the context of what I've spent lately on that damned car. I would have to guess that I'll get the proper sort of repairs done on my Mazda this time around. You know, given that it's in a Mazda shop and all. They had to order the parts for overnight delivery, meaning that I was stuck at home all day without a car. This was no great inconvenience though. It seems to behoove me to stay off my feet as much as possible whenever the opportunity presents itself. With nowhere to go and no way to get there, I haven't done a lot of walking today. In related news, I'm not in a lot of pain at the moment.
My dispatch tomorrow doesn't sound too bad either. I'm not starting until 2pm, so maybe I'll be able to get my car back before I have to go to work. I can't imagine that replacing a thermostat housing is too major a repair. In any event, once I do go to work I'll be pulling a load out to the dairy in Grand Rapids. When I get back from that one, I'll have a one-stop milk delivery down to Monroe. My $250 in earnings for the day will be earmarked for car repairs, essentially, but at least it looks to be a nice and easy shift of work. I like nice and easy shifts.
As effective as I think the following commercial could be in terms of spelling out the choices facing our country, I'm not convinced that people will get the message. When presented with the massive amount of spending that would have to be cut in order to secure our future, people will inevitably chicken out and kick the can down the road. They'll keep electing politicians who lie to them and tell them that it's not so bad. My instincts tell me that we're screwed. Sometimes they're right. Sometimes they're wrong.
I got out of bed this morning and prepared to drive my car over to the shop in Allen Park where my replacement engine had been installed. Just before I walked out the door, the pervasive thought in my mind was, "Fuck that guy. I don't trust him." So that was that. Even though I probably had some financial interest in sticking with the same shop, as I noted in last night's post, I decided to drive down to the Mazda dealer in Woodhaven instead. Instincts. Sometimes right, sometimes wrong, always persuasive, at least in my case.
After I dropped off the car, the courtesy shuttle gave me a ride home from the dealership. Then I had time to do some reading and take a long nap. I got a call at some point in the afternoon from the boss man in the service department. The thermostat housing on my engine is cracked. "Did you get a new engine in that car?" he asked. Not too long ago, of course. Apparently homeboy used some kind of silicone sealant on my new thermostat housing when he installed the engine. Apparently this silicone sealant wasn't suitable to the purpose for which it was used. Apparently this caused my brand new thermostat housing to crack. (Guess who was feeling pretty glad that he trusted his instincts this morning. Fuck that guy.)
$234 more dollars sounds relatively tame in the context of what I've spent lately on that damned car. I would have to guess that I'll get the proper sort of repairs done on my Mazda this time around. You know, given that it's in a Mazda shop and all. They had to order the parts for overnight delivery, meaning that I was stuck at home all day without a car. This was no great inconvenience though. It seems to behoove me to stay off my feet as much as possible whenever the opportunity presents itself. With nowhere to go and no way to get there, I haven't done a lot of walking today. In related news, I'm not in a lot of pain at the moment.
My dispatch tomorrow doesn't sound too bad either. I'm not starting until 2pm, so maybe I'll be able to get my car back before I have to go to work. I can't imagine that replacing a thermostat housing is too major a repair. In any event, once I do go to work I'll be pulling a load out to the dairy in Grand Rapids. When I get back from that one, I'll have a one-stop milk delivery down to Monroe. My $250 in earnings for the day will be earmarked for car repairs, essentially, but at least it looks to be a nice and easy shift of work. I like nice and easy shifts.
As effective as I think the following commercial could be in terms of spelling out the choices facing our country, I'm not convinced that people will get the message. When presented with the massive amount of spending that would have to be cut in order to secure our future, people will inevitably chicken out and kick the can down the road. They'll keep electing politicians who lie to them and tell them that it's not so bad. My instincts tell me that we're screwed. Sometimes they're right. Sometimes they're wrong.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
10/20/10
If they get to do it to me, then by golly I'm gonna turn the tables on them → The federal government are nothing but a bunch of racists! Well, the USDA, at least. "Under an interim rule, the USDA agreed to bar WIC participants from buying potatoes with their federal dollars. Potatoes are the only vegetable not allowed." Banning potatoes for poor women and children? And we know who likes the potatoes, don't we? What's next? Are they gonna ban cops, beer, and Catholicism too? Racists. You should have seen that powdered milk shit that my mother used to get from the WIC office here in Michigan. It had to be worse than a plate of fries. Had to be. That processed cheese wasn't bad though.
Fortunately for me, the powers that be are still willing to allow people to drink real milk. They seem to go back and forth every few years regarding whether or not it's good for you, but it's on your store shelves nonetheless. Getting it into the stores is the way your don makes a living now, so hopefully more studies will say that milk does a body good... or whatever.
My three stops today went well enough. I got rolling shortly after noon and headed out to Jackson. Then it was across town to the other store in Jackson before rolling out to Hillsdale for my final stop. No incidents, only moderate ass pain, $150 for an easy shift, all is well.
I was done with work too early to head to the gym, given that I prefer the less crowded late night environment for my workouts, so I had some dinner and took a long nap in my car. Once I woke and started rolling up to Novi, my car's instrument panel started getting colorful. A little too colorful. I already told you about the coolant situation. That hasn't changed, obviously, so I wasn't terribly shocked to see that the 'check engine' light came on tonight. The temperature gauge has been all over the place, so the car's computer is probably not sure what to make of the situation.
I was more surprised to see that the little car with skidmarks behind it and the 'TCS OFF' lights came on and stayed on. That skidding car indicator usually comes on for a second or two if my tires start to spin on an icy or snowy road. I think the car reduces power to the spinning wheel or something. Then the light goes off and everything is normal. There's a button that I can press to override this system and keep my wheels spinning, if I so choose. When I press this button, the 'TCS OFF' light comes on. Then, if I press the button again, the light goes off. Tonight, for whatever reason, both indicators came on and stayed on. I tried pressing the TCS button to see if it would make the indicator go away. Nope. One more fucking thing on my list.
I just paid a shitload of money for a rebuilt engine and the mechanic took the liberty of replacing the thermostat and housing in the process, so I guess I'll have to take the car back to him in the morning. I can only assume that all of the parts involved would be under warranty for at least a few hundred miles. There's no point in going to another shop or a dealer and paying someone else to fix the same stuff when it probably won't cost me anything to go back to the original place. In the back of my mind though, I'm tempted to go to a damned dealer anyway. I would have expected to get more than three weeks' worth of driving out of the thing before shit started leaking and the gauges started going haywire. The guy who put in my new engine is a friend of the family and all, but what if he's just incompetent? I do know that he's a fairly heavy drinker. Then again, that must mean he's really smart. I'm gonna go ahead and have him take a look tomorrow, but he's on a very short leash at this point.
Aggravation tends to be a pretty good motivator once it's time to throw some weights around. Tonight was no exception. I had to go really light on the cardio work due to the aforementioned ass pain, but the shoulder workout was nice and intense. We'll take the small victories where we can get them these days.
Fortunately for me, the powers that be are still willing to allow people to drink real milk. They seem to go back and forth every few years regarding whether or not it's good for you, but it's on your store shelves nonetheless. Getting it into the stores is the way your don makes a living now, so hopefully more studies will say that milk does a body good... or whatever.
My three stops today went well enough. I got rolling shortly after noon and headed out to Jackson. Then it was across town to the other store in Jackson before rolling out to Hillsdale for my final stop. No incidents, only moderate ass pain, $150 for an easy shift, all is well.
I was done with work too early to head to the gym, given that I prefer the less crowded late night environment for my workouts, so I had some dinner and took a long nap in my car. Once I woke and started rolling up to Novi, my car's instrument panel started getting colorful. A little too colorful. I already told you about the coolant situation. That hasn't changed, obviously, so I wasn't terribly shocked to see that the 'check engine' light came on tonight. The temperature gauge has been all over the place, so the car's computer is probably not sure what to make of the situation.
I was more surprised to see that the little car with skidmarks behind it and the 'TCS OFF' lights came on and stayed on. That skidding car indicator usually comes on for a second or two if my tires start to spin on an icy or snowy road. I think the car reduces power to the spinning wheel or something. Then the light goes off and everything is normal. There's a button that I can press to override this system and keep my wheels spinning, if I so choose. When I press this button, the 'TCS OFF' light comes on. Then, if I press the button again, the light goes off. Tonight, for whatever reason, both indicators came on and stayed on. I tried pressing the TCS button to see if it would make the indicator go away. Nope. One more fucking thing on my list.
I just paid a shitload of money for a rebuilt engine and the mechanic took the liberty of replacing the thermostat and housing in the process, so I guess I'll have to take the car back to him in the morning. I can only assume that all of the parts involved would be under warranty for at least a few hundred miles. There's no point in going to another shop or a dealer and paying someone else to fix the same stuff when it probably won't cost me anything to go back to the original place. In the back of my mind though, I'm tempted to go to a damned dealer anyway. I would have expected to get more than three weeks' worth of driving out of the thing before shit started leaking and the gauges started going haywire. The guy who put in my new engine is a friend of the family and all, but what if he's just incompetent? I do know that he's a fairly heavy drinker. Then again, that must mean he's really smart. I'm gonna go ahead and have him take a look tomorrow, but he's on a very short leash at this point.
Aggravation tends to be a pretty good motivator once it's time to throw some weights around. Tonight was no exception. I had to go really light on the cardio work due to the aforementioned ass pain, but the shoulder workout was nice and intense. We'll take the small victories where we can get them these days.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
10/19/10
If it ain't one thing, it's another. After taking it easy yesterday and staying off my feet during today's long drive, I seemed to get back to the numbness rather than pain in my right leg. All things considered, we'll consider this a step forward. So I went to the gym and got through a pretty good workout. I rode the bike for the cardio portion of the deal, since it seems that I'm able to sit now, and everything felt... well... not good, but better. Let's just put it that way.
So I got out to my car and started the engine, then waited for the idle to slow before putting it in gear and heading for home. As I sat for whatever it was, twenty seconds or so, I watched the temperature gauge shoot right past the 'H' and stay there. What the hell? I put the car in gear and drove down the street a mile or so. The temperature stayed pegged in the overheated range. I pulled into the Meijer parking lot and checked the oil. Full and clean. Now for the antifreeze. More accurately put, now for the lack of antifreeze. If it ain't one thing, it's another.
First things first - I bought some pre-diluted antifreeze and topped off the radiator. I also spotted a bottle of that Motor Kote stuff that our man Calmar recommended some time ago, so I grabbed some of that and tossed it in the engine while I was at it. The package said that it's good for power steering too, so I put the leftover 2oz. in the steering fluid reservoir. Why not, right? And I got some windshield washer fluid. Okay, that oughtta cover it.
Next I drove back over to the gym and checked my parking space. There was a little spot on the ground that looked like it may have been from a fresh leak, but nothing to indicate a major spill of any kind. I'm not even 100% sure that it was a fresh leak. Moving along, I headed down the road a few miles to the Quickway terminal and checked my parking space there. This time I'm pretty sure that there was some fluid from my car, but again nothing too major. All I can surmise is that this damned thing has been leaking slowly since the new engine was put in.
That explains the antifreeze situation, as far as I know, but the temperature gauge still reads wicked hot when I'm going above 50mph, occasionally dipping into the moderately hot range. When I drive more slowly, the temperature is closer to the normal zone, although it still fluctuates upward from time to time. Obnoxious.
I have a 12:30pm pull time for tomorrow and my chances of getting out of bed early appear minimal, so I guess I'll have to take my car over to the shop on my day off Thursday. Homeboy put in a new thermostat when he replaced the engine, so maybe there's a loose connection or something. I don't know. Whatever. I need some sleep.
Back on my feet and delivering milk tomorrow. Let's hope for the best.
So I got out to my car and started the engine, then waited for the idle to slow before putting it in gear and heading for home. As I sat for whatever it was, twenty seconds or so, I watched the temperature gauge shoot right past the 'H' and stay there. What the hell? I put the car in gear and drove down the street a mile or so. The temperature stayed pegged in the overheated range. I pulled into the Meijer parking lot and checked the oil. Full and clean. Now for the antifreeze. More accurately put, now for the lack of antifreeze. If it ain't one thing, it's another.
First things first - I bought some pre-diluted antifreeze and topped off the radiator. I also spotted a bottle of that Motor Kote stuff that our man Calmar recommended some time ago, so I grabbed some of that and tossed it in the engine while I was at it. The package said that it's good for power steering too, so I put the leftover 2oz. in the steering fluid reservoir. Why not, right? And I got some windshield washer fluid. Okay, that oughtta cover it.
Next I drove back over to the gym and checked my parking space. There was a little spot on the ground that looked like it may have been from a fresh leak, but nothing to indicate a major spill of any kind. I'm not even 100% sure that it was a fresh leak. Moving along, I headed down the road a few miles to the Quickway terminal and checked my parking space there. This time I'm pretty sure that there was some fluid from my car, but again nothing too major. All I can surmise is that this damned thing has been leaking slowly since the new engine was put in.
That explains the antifreeze situation, as far as I know, but the temperature gauge still reads wicked hot when I'm going above 50mph, occasionally dipping into the moderately hot range. When I drive more slowly, the temperature is closer to the normal zone, although it still fluctuates upward from time to time. Obnoxious.
I have a 12:30pm pull time for tomorrow and my chances of getting out of bed early appear minimal, so I guess I'll have to take my car over to the shop on my day off Thursday. Homeboy put in a new thermostat when he replaced the engine, so maybe there's a loose connection or something. I don't know. Whatever. I need some sleep.
Back on my feet and delivering milk tomorrow. Let's hope for the best.
Monday, October 18, 2010
10/18/10
Is it time for one of those annoying 'perspective' posts where I try to sound as if I've figured out some deeper meaning in the world? Yes, I suppose it is time.
While I've been fighting some injury issues lately, I have no doubt that I'll get to the point where things are somewhat normal again. Years and years of injuries have left me in a state where my 'normal' probably involves a little more pain than most people's 'normal' but, you know, close enough. Maybe I'll have to give in and have a doctor fix something before much longer here, but I'll be okay in the end. To be perfectly honest, quite a bit of this situation is probably an offshoot of my own curiosity to see if I can prevail without any help. Some of you have meaningful goals in life. I don't. So I end up with stupid shit like this as motivation.
In contrast, my buddy Mr. Pedro had a fall at home yesterday and wound up in the hospital. The testing that the doctors are doing hasn't turned up any problems that they can see, but for whatever reason he hasn't been able to muster the strength to move himself around and such. Given his ongoing struggle against dementia, I suspect that he's slowly losing the motivation to care for himself. Each successive problem that he encounters seems to be one more step toward the day when he just might not be okay in the end. Heart trouble earlier in the year, the loss of his wife in the spring, a bump on the head a couple of weeks ago, and now this latest incident. I saw him tonight and he's still got some fight left in him, to be sure, but when you're 97 years old you might not keep winning the battles forever. And so my leg pain wasn't much of a concern today.
I'm not sure what time I finally got out of bed today, but it was after noon. After unwinding from last night's workout and doing some reading, I must have gone to bed today at 7am or so. Not exactly a productive way to start a day off. I hadn't intended to leave home at all, given that I only have one day to rest before I'm back to work and dealing with whatever symptoms my crazy leg decides to throw at me. Then my roommate and the reverand showed up and told me about the old man. They had gone up to the hospital this morning and visited for a while. They told me that Mr. Pedro was still a little shaky but improving. (In the absence of human cloning, I recommend getting an unemployed friend to stay in your extra bedroom for a while. They have all the free time in the world, allowing them to act as stand-ins when you're too tired or busy to do much socializing.)
Later, after the three of us had gone out to dinner, we swung by the hospital to see how the rev's father was doing. It probably doesn't surprise you that my conversational style, even with the elderly (perhaps especially so), isn't quite the same as that of most people. It may surprise you though that my style seems to bring the old fella to life a little bit. Of course the others would have their say of the blah blah blah stuff - "Do you need anything? How are you feeling? What did the nurses say?... ZZZzzzzzzzzzz..." Not me though. Mr. Pedro and I talk about things like attractive nurses, trucking (he used to be a fleet mechanic), and Detroit politics. Apparently we're also going turkey hunting once he gets a little stronger, so I have that going for me... which is nice.
I'm pretty sure that my old buddy's spirits were lifted at least a little bit by the time we left the hospital. If nothing more, at least his eyes seemed to have brightened a bit. The rehab people are gonna have a go at him tomorrow and see if they can get him to start walking a little more.
As for me, I'll be spending tomorrow pretending to be a real trucker again. As long as my crazy leg doesn't change symptoms on me, this is good news. The present situation is such that walking is bad and sitting is good, so a run to Eighty Four, Pennsylvania should be just what the doctor ordered. I spent most of today off my feet and I'll spend most of tomorrow off my feet as well. Maybe we can turn the corner on this sucker after all. I don't think I've had consecutive days yet in which I avoided aggravating the situation. Tomorrow could be an important day. Or maybe not. I don't know. It's another one over $300 though. I do know that much. And that, as we say here at Tales from the Road, is better than a kick in the balls.
While I've been fighting some injury issues lately, I have no doubt that I'll get to the point where things are somewhat normal again. Years and years of injuries have left me in a state where my 'normal' probably involves a little more pain than most people's 'normal' but, you know, close enough. Maybe I'll have to give in and have a doctor fix something before much longer here, but I'll be okay in the end. To be perfectly honest, quite a bit of this situation is probably an offshoot of my own curiosity to see if I can prevail without any help. Some of you have meaningful goals in life. I don't. So I end up with stupid shit like this as motivation.
In contrast, my buddy Mr. Pedro had a fall at home yesterday and wound up in the hospital. The testing that the doctors are doing hasn't turned up any problems that they can see, but for whatever reason he hasn't been able to muster the strength to move himself around and such. Given his ongoing struggle against dementia, I suspect that he's slowly losing the motivation to care for himself. Each successive problem that he encounters seems to be one more step toward the day when he just might not be okay in the end. Heart trouble earlier in the year, the loss of his wife in the spring, a bump on the head a couple of weeks ago, and now this latest incident. I saw him tonight and he's still got some fight left in him, to be sure, but when you're 97 years old you might not keep winning the battles forever. And so my leg pain wasn't much of a concern today.
I'm not sure what time I finally got out of bed today, but it was after noon. After unwinding from last night's workout and doing some reading, I must have gone to bed today at 7am or so. Not exactly a productive way to start a day off. I hadn't intended to leave home at all, given that I only have one day to rest before I'm back to work and dealing with whatever symptoms my crazy leg decides to throw at me. Then my roommate and the reverand showed up and told me about the old man. They had gone up to the hospital this morning and visited for a while. They told me that Mr. Pedro was still a little shaky but improving. (In the absence of human cloning, I recommend getting an unemployed friend to stay in your extra bedroom for a while. They have all the free time in the world, allowing them to act as stand-ins when you're too tired or busy to do much socializing.)
Later, after the three of us had gone out to dinner, we swung by the hospital to see how the rev's father was doing. It probably doesn't surprise you that my conversational style, even with the elderly (perhaps especially so), isn't quite the same as that of most people. It may surprise you though that my style seems to bring the old fella to life a little bit. Of course the others would have their say of the blah blah blah stuff - "Do you need anything? How are you feeling? What did the nurses say?... ZZZzzzzzzzzzz..." Not me though. Mr. Pedro and I talk about things like attractive nurses, trucking (he used to be a fleet mechanic), and Detroit politics. Apparently we're also going turkey hunting once he gets a little stronger, so I have that going for me... which is nice.
I'm pretty sure that my old buddy's spirits were lifted at least a little bit by the time we left the hospital. If nothing more, at least his eyes seemed to have brightened a bit. The rehab people are gonna have a go at him tomorrow and see if they can get him to start walking a little more.
As for me, I'll be spending tomorrow pretending to be a real trucker again. As long as my crazy leg doesn't change symptoms on me, this is good news. The present situation is such that walking is bad and sitting is good, so a run to Eighty Four, Pennsylvania should be just what the doctor ordered. I spent most of today off my feet and I'll spend most of tomorrow off my feet as well. Maybe we can turn the corner on this sucker after all. I don't think I've had consecutive days yet in which I avoided aggravating the situation. Tomorrow could be an important day. Or maybe not. I don't know. It's another one over $300 though. I do know that much. And that, as we say here at Tales from the Road, is better than a kick in the balls.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
10/17/10
Ummm... yeah... it was a bad pop. Oops.
Actually I can't say for certain that last night's little stretching incident was the cause. For one reason or another though, my leg was a towering inferno of agony today. From my hip all the way through to my toes, it felt as if the muscles and ligaments were being ripped out and lit on fire with each step that I took. Good times. Good times.
A couple of amusing things (other than my physical suffering) arose as I made my way through my scheduled run this afternoon. First was the realization that, no matter how pitiful I become and no matter how readily I acknowledge as much, I'll always retain some strain of that primitive alpha male DNA. In the comfort of my own home, I'm content to whine to you folks about how much my leg hurts and how much it's ruining my days and such. In person though, hell to the naw.
"You okay man?"
"I'll be fine."
...
"Are you sure you're okay? You're eyes are watering and it looks like you're gonna fall down."
"I'll be alright."
...
"Damn, why don't you sit down for a few minutes or something?"
"Only a few more pallets left. Let's just finish 'em off. I'll feel better once I get back in the truck."
Some form of that conversation took place at each of my stops today. Obviously I was suffering. Everyone could see it. Admit weakness though? In front of people? Get the fuck out of here.
The second common thread struck me as quite peculiar. As I wrapped up my first stop in Flint, the fella made some comment about my injury situation. No worries, I assured him, tomorrow is my day off. I'll just stay in bed all day again if I have to. "Yeah, if your wife lets you." No point in correcting some guy that I don't know very well, so we move along... As I wrapped up my second stop in Mount Morris, the guy signing the paperwork said something about the beautiful weather. Too bad about my injury, I responded, or else I'd be able to get out and play some golf. "Yeah but your wife probably likes it better this way." Two for two then. Moving on...
As I finished out my third stop in Essexville, the guy in the dairy cooler told me that he once had a pinched nerve in his back. His problem had been caused by his spine getting out of alignment and his doctor had fixed it with a series of exercises of some sort. The doctor held his legs this way and told him to press that way and, presto change-o, everything was fine. I was skeptical but intrigued, so I filed the knowledge away for future use. "You can get your wife or girlfriend to help and you might not even need a doctor." What? Was there some sort of conference call this morning?
My three stops went a little slowly due to my hobbled pace, but I would have been done quickly enough to get to the bar and watch my Redskins on TV tonight. Alas, I had been assigned to a second load when I got to work this morning. I guess that's pretty much the way it goes, isn't it? It was an easy one-stop deal to Monroe though, so good enough I guess.
Back at the dairy, after exchanging a brief chat with the security guard about how his faith was going to help heal my leg (or something), I dropped my trailer full of empty cases and then backed under my next loaded trailer. Damn it. I got lazy and left the trailer too high as I backed under it. Jumped the fifth wheel. Damn it.
After I raised the trailer high enough to clear the fifth wheel, pulled forward a few feet, lowered the trailer, and backed under it again (correctly this time), my phone rang. The night dispatcher needed me to take a two-stop load to Lambertville and Toledo, rather than the originally planned one-stopper to Monroe. Fantastic. So after all of the hassle involved with hooking to my trailer, I had to set it back down and move to a different one.
After walking painfully over to the security guard and exchanging my old paperwork for the new, I proceeded with the business of hooking to my next loaded trailer and getting ready to roll. Damn it. I got lazy and left the trailer too high as I backed under it. Jumped the fifth wheel. Damn it. Twice in a row?
I wound up being at the dairy for damned near an hour before I finally got back on the highway. My 'Skins were on the radio though, so at least I had some entertainment as I rolled southward. (I use the word 'entertainment' loosely here.) My two stops were fairly painful, as could be expected at the end of a long day, but I fought my way through them. Not a whole lot I could do about the pronounced limp that I am sporting, but I kept my mouth shut and got my milk delivered. Something in the DNA...
As I got back out to my truck for the ride home, I received another call from the night dispatcher. The yard dog had gone home sick, so one of the drivers had to cover for him. This was the reason that I had been switched to the two-stop load in the first place - to make sure that there was a quick one-stopper left for whoever would be taking a third run tonight. Now the fabled 'third run' was mine if I wanted it. I had heard mention of situations where a fella might end up making over $400 in one shift, but I hadn't seen it for myself yet.
Unfortunately though, at least in the monetary sense, my 14 hour clock wouldn't have lasted long enough for me to make that third trip. I had to be done by 1:45am and I wasn't going to be back in Livonia until after midnight. No chance that I could get to Monroe and back within an hour and a half, much less with a 12-pallet delivery thrown into the mix. So some other dude took a third load tonight instead. Despite my president's oft-repeated and garbled misunderstanding of the story of Cain and Abel, I am not my brother's keeper. Therefore I don't concern myself with how those other drivers get their milk delivered within the law. I suspect that there may be some logbook gymnastics involved but I really don't know. Maybe someone had been scheduled originally for two really short trips or something. In any event, my day checked in at a perfectly legal $315 and I was glad to be finished. Finished working, at least.
I'm starting to suspect that this back injury may be some kind of Zionist plot. You see, I really hate lifting weights. But I'm in pain all day except when I'm lifting weights. So did those pesky Jews conspire to get me to go to the gym by giving me a back injury? Probably not, but it's a question worth asking. Tonight did bring a scheduled back workout though. Coincidence?
I drove over to the Meijer in Northville and bought a six-pack of beer in order to prepare for my workout. No, I'm not kidding and no, this isn't some sad alcoholic story. The only point in recent memory when my leg felt normal was while I was having a few beers on Friday night. I was in no condition even to walk up the steps of the gym tonight, given the burning pain down the back of my leg, so I decided to try my luck with some brews. This time they did nothing for the pain, but at least they tasted good.
My cardio warmup lasted about two minutes before I gave it up. Just couldn't hack it. My weight lifting was solid though, continuing a trend. I really didn't think that working out my back would be a problem, since the injury seems to be localized somewhere at the base of my spine. I couldn't say for sure though. There's always a little lingering apprehension with this sort of thing. I had no problems tonight, other than those that already existed.
Tomorrow - more bed rest, I suppose.
Actually I can't say for certain that last night's little stretching incident was the cause. For one reason or another though, my leg was a towering inferno of agony today. From my hip all the way through to my toes, it felt as if the muscles and ligaments were being ripped out and lit on fire with each step that I took. Good times. Good times.
A couple of amusing things (other than my physical suffering) arose as I made my way through my scheduled run this afternoon. First was the realization that, no matter how pitiful I become and no matter how readily I acknowledge as much, I'll always retain some strain of that primitive alpha male DNA. In the comfort of my own home, I'm content to whine to you folks about how much my leg hurts and how much it's ruining my days and such. In person though, hell to the naw.
"You okay man?"
"I'll be fine."
...
"Are you sure you're okay? You're eyes are watering and it looks like you're gonna fall down."
"I'll be alright."
...
"Damn, why don't you sit down for a few minutes or something?"
"Only a few more pallets left. Let's just finish 'em off. I'll feel better once I get back in the truck."
Some form of that conversation took place at each of my stops today. Obviously I was suffering. Everyone could see it. Admit weakness though? In front of people? Get the fuck out of here.
The second common thread struck me as quite peculiar. As I wrapped up my first stop in Flint, the fella made some comment about my injury situation. No worries, I assured him, tomorrow is my day off. I'll just stay in bed all day again if I have to. "Yeah, if your wife lets you." No point in correcting some guy that I don't know very well, so we move along... As I wrapped up my second stop in Mount Morris, the guy signing the paperwork said something about the beautiful weather. Too bad about my injury, I responded, or else I'd be able to get out and play some golf. "Yeah but your wife probably likes it better this way." Two for two then. Moving on...
As I finished out my third stop in Essexville, the guy in the dairy cooler told me that he once had a pinched nerve in his back. His problem had been caused by his spine getting out of alignment and his doctor had fixed it with a series of exercises of some sort. The doctor held his legs this way and told him to press that way and, presto change-o, everything was fine. I was skeptical but intrigued, so I filed the knowledge away for future use. "You can get your wife or girlfriend to help and you might not even need a doctor." What? Was there some sort of conference call this morning?
My three stops went a little slowly due to my hobbled pace, but I would have been done quickly enough to get to the bar and watch my Redskins on TV tonight. Alas, I had been assigned to a second load when I got to work this morning. I guess that's pretty much the way it goes, isn't it? It was an easy one-stop deal to Monroe though, so good enough I guess.
Back at the dairy, after exchanging a brief chat with the security guard about how his faith was going to help heal my leg (or something), I dropped my trailer full of empty cases and then backed under my next loaded trailer. Damn it. I got lazy and left the trailer too high as I backed under it. Jumped the fifth wheel. Damn it.
After I raised the trailer high enough to clear the fifth wheel, pulled forward a few feet, lowered the trailer, and backed under it again (correctly this time), my phone rang. The night dispatcher needed me to take a two-stop load to Lambertville and Toledo, rather than the originally planned one-stopper to Monroe. Fantastic. So after all of the hassle involved with hooking to my trailer, I had to set it back down and move to a different one.
After walking painfully over to the security guard and exchanging my old paperwork for the new, I proceeded with the business of hooking to my next loaded trailer and getting ready to roll. Damn it. I got lazy and left the trailer too high as I backed under it. Jumped the fifth wheel. Damn it. Twice in a row?
I wound up being at the dairy for damned near an hour before I finally got back on the highway. My 'Skins were on the radio though, so at least I had some entertainment as I rolled southward. (I use the word 'entertainment' loosely here.) My two stops were fairly painful, as could be expected at the end of a long day, but I fought my way through them. Not a whole lot I could do about the pronounced limp that I am sporting, but I kept my mouth shut and got my milk delivered. Something in the DNA...
As I got back out to my truck for the ride home, I received another call from the night dispatcher. The yard dog had gone home sick, so one of the drivers had to cover for him. This was the reason that I had been switched to the two-stop load in the first place - to make sure that there was a quick one-stopper left for whoever would be taking a third run tonight. Now the fabled 'third run' was mine if I wanted it. I had heard mention of situations where a fella might end up making over $400 in one shift, but I hadn't seen it for myself yet.
Unfortunately though, at least in the monetary sense, my 14 hour clock wouldn't have lasted long enough for me to make that third trip. I had to be done by 1:45am and I wasn't going to be back in Livonia until after midnight. No chance that I could get to Monroe and back within an hour and a half, much less with a 12-pallet delivery thrown into the mix. So some other dude took a third load tonight instead. Despite my president's oft-repeated and garbled misunderstanding of the story of Cain and Abel, I am not my brother's keeper. Therefore I don't concern myself with how those other drivers get their milk delivered within the law. I suspect that there may be some logbook gymnastics involved but I really don't know. Maybe someone had been scheduled originally for two really short trips or something. In any event, my day checked in at a perfectly legal $315 and I was glad to be finished. Finished working, at least.
I'm starting to suspect that this back injury may be some kind of Zionist plot. You see, I really hate lifting weights. But I'm in pain all day except when I'm lifting weights. So did those pesky Jews conspire to get me to go to the gym by giving me a back injury? Probably not, but it's a question worth asking. Tonight did bring a scheduled back workout though. Coincidence?
I drove over to the Meijer in Northville and bought a six-pack of beer in order to prepare for my workout. No, I'm not kidding and no, this isn't some sad alcoholic story. The only point in recent memory when my leg felt normal was while I was having a few beers on Friday night. I was in no condition even to walk up the steps of the gym tonight, given the burning pain down the back of my leg, so I decided to try my luck with some brews. This time they did nothing for the pain, but at least they tasted good.
My cardio warmup lasted about two minutes before I gave it up. Just couldn't hack it. My weight lifting was solid though, continuing a trend. I really didn't think that working out my back would be a problem, since the injury seems to be localized somewhere at the base of my spine. I couldn't say for sure though. There's always a little lingering apprehension with this sort of thing. I had no problems tonight, other than those that already existed.
Tomorrow - more bed rest, I suppose.
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