It's time for a frank discussion here. At the point when I made the move from Con-way Truckload to Quickway, I wasn't quite sure about the future of this blog. I made an effort to retrace the history of the whole thing and see if it still made sense. The summary is as follows.
I became a truck driver in 2006 for various personal reasons. I wasn't desperate for a job and I wasn't in a difficult spot, as most of you have probably figured out. I just needed a change of scenery. Before I signed on the dotted line with CFI back then, I made an effort to learn something about the industry in general and various companies in particular.
What I learned was, with all due respect to some of you out there, that people involved with the trucking business are full of horseshit. I heard from some people that everything was awesome and, by the way, here was some guy's truck number. (These people wanted credit for recruiting me, along with the bonus pay that they would receive.) I heard from other people that trucking companies were nothing more than glorified sweatshops and, by the way, I was an asshole for even thinking about doing the job. (These people wanted some form of emotional validation for having failed as truck drivers themselves.)
As I tried to track down honest answers to my questions, I found that I didn't believe anyone. The recruiters were full of shit and the disgruntled former employees were full of shit. Nobody could seem to tell the truth without an agenda. Since I participated in a few online discussion forums at the time, I found the opportunity to express my thoughts about my employer and the industry in general. This was a form of entertainment for me. Various people. for one reason or another, took an interest in what I had to say.
So we get to this blog. I was asked one question on a regular basis - What's it really like out there? I really couldn't provide a quick but honest answer. One day would be like this and the next day would be like that. Some good, some bad, and a whole lot in-between. This blog was initially my contribution to people who wanted an answer to that single question. It was my way of saying, "Here's what it's like out on the road."
As time went on and quite a few people started reading for more than informational purposes, the blog became a little more fun for me to write. I get a kick out of the feedback and the conversations with people from around the world, and my day-to-day travels always seemed to provide new topics for discussion. Whether I was whining about dispatchers or talking trash about sports teams or spouting stereotypes about the inhabitants of a particular region, something always popped into my head when I sat at my keyboard. Every day for more than three years, there was at least something to say, even if that something was ridiculous.
Which brings us to now. I'm running a bit low on subject material these days. I said to myself a long time ago that I wouldn't waste my time writing a boring narrative of my daily routine. If all I could say was that I went from here to there, doing this and that along the way, it would be time to hang it up. I'm simply not that interesting as an individual. The observations and "tales from the road" were the point of the whole thing. The recent transition to my new job has provided a few ups and downs that seemed worth sharing, so the posts have kept coming every day so far. It's a little interesting to try going back to a "normal" life after having spent four years merely "vacationing" at home whenever I felt like it. There's just not a lot of inspiration, for lack of a better word. The daily and weekly routines, while not yet comfortable and settled for me, are indeed becoming routine.
The standard things that people suggest are to take a break or write less often and so forth, but I really see no point in that, at least in the context of what this blog has been for a few years. This has been an ongoing narrative that wouldn't really be well-served by a sporadic posting whenever I felt the need to say something. I have no desire to start spouting off about current events every day or anything like that either. There are plenty of actual writers who have more rational thoughts about things than I have. I'd much rather read what they have to say than write something myself.
I plan to do my best to find something to write at the end of the day here, but it's getting tougher. That's all I'm trying to say. I probably used a few more words than I needed to make that point.
Today on the milk front was as quick and easy as advertised. No calls from the dispatcher and no changes to my schedule. After my first stop in Howell, I scooted over to Lansing and then dropped down to Jackson for my second stop. The dairy guy there said that he wanted to pull the milk out of the trailer himself. Knock yourself out there, sport. Some of the dairy guys like to do this because it allows them to use an electric pallet jack to put the milk into the cooler. If I'm pulling the milk off with the electric jack, then they have to use a manual jack to put away the milk.
So anyhow, why are we talking about this? Oh yeah - After I had set the first pallet on the dock and left the pallet jack waiting for the fella, he came back around to grab the next pallet. And then he proceeded to tip it over by going across the dock plate at an angle. If you hit that plate at any kind of angle, then the wheel under one side of the pallet starts to ride up the ramp while the wheel on the other side stays below. Once you get 2,200 pounds of milk leaning sideways, you're at the mercy of gravity. Sometimes the pallet will rock back into place when the second wheel hits the ramp and sometimes... boom. After the guy spent a few seconds blaming me for not having stopped the thing from tipping (Put myself in the way of 2,200 pounds as it tips? Blow me.), we got the pleasure of cleaning up the mess and restacking the pallet of milk. This added some time onto what would have been an extremely quick shift for me.
All in all though, not bad. I had a total of 3.25 hours driving and 2.5 hours on Line 4. Since our union contract guarantees at least $138.08 for any shift that we work, that's what I earned for the day. Not Oprah money or anything, but it'll do. Tomorrow's dispatch will bring a lot more money and a lot more work, so I don't mind these quick and easy days when I can get them.
One of the disadvantages to communicating through blog comments is that you don't always catch people when you would like. I wrapped up my shift at 6:30pm tonight, so I was leaning toward heading out to Warren to visit with the best and brightest beermakers that Michigan has to offer. I only had one phone number for our man Brent though. I called it while I was heading back to the dairy. I'm assuming that the lady's voice on the voicemail belongs to his wife, but I don't know her and she doesn't know me. Ergo I didn't really feel inclined to leave a message. We'll just have to catch up another time, I reckon. Probably just as well, since the brakes on my car are grinding and I shouldn't do any more driving than is necessary. One more thing on the to-do list for my next day off. There's just always something, isn't there?
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
8/6/10
Thirteen-fifteen. What does that mean to you? (Military folks are asked not to respond here, for obvious reasons.) It means 1:15pm for those of us who don't usually think in those terms.
There is a lengthy history on this blog concerning my views on people who wake before 10am. In a nutshell, I think they're a bunch of degenerates. What in the hell could possibly possess someone to get up so early? I don't know. I think it must be witchcraft.
So yeah, I was asleep well into this morning. That's the way life oughtta be. At whatever point I managed to drag myself out of bed, I found that I had two voicemail messages waiting. One was telling me that my car would be available at 2pm on Friday. The other was telling me that my pull time for Saturday was thirteen-fifteen. At least one more day with a reasonable sleep schedule - excellent.
I got up at some time in the afternoon. My unemployed lodger and I rode across town to the body shop where my car was being prepared. Right at 2pm, as scheduled, the auto repair guys handed over my keys. I then drove my mother's car to her office. My friend, as planned, followed behind me with my car. The work on my car had been done well enough for the most part, but for $1,400 I truly expected more. There were a couple of imperfections in the paint work and the bumper was off the mark by a few millimeters. This was consistent with what one might expect from a fly-by-night local outfit, rather than a highly decorated establishment that charged my insurance company a lot of money.
In any event, I had my car back, so I was looking forward to the chance to kick back and unwind for a while. After watching a truly terrible movie (Grown Ups), I decided that I might as well head over to the local pub and catch the second half of the Tigers game. They lost, of course. It's what they do. Then back home for more relaxation, armed with the knowledge that I don't have to get up early in the morning. Thirteen-fifteen will work quite nicely.
As of right now (before the guys start calling in sick), I'm scheduled for one run tomorrow. It has a stop in Howell and another in Jackson and that's it. It only pays $129.04 so, unless something changes, I'll end up collecting the daily minimum of $138.08 for my five or six hours of work. Good enough for me. I'd be content to wrap up my shift nice and early and then find that brewmeister buddy of ours over in Warren, although I won't hold my breath. It seems that I never end up with the work to which I was originally assigned. Something always changes.
There is a lengthy history on this blog concerning my views on people who wake before 10am. In a nutshell, I think they're a bunch of degenerates. What in the hell could possibly possess someone to get up so early? I don't know. I think it must be witchcraft.
So yeah, I was asleep well into this morning. That's the way life oughtta be. At whatever point I managed to drag myself out of bed, I found that I had two voicemail messages waiting. One was telling me that my car would be available at 2pm on Friday. The other was telling me that my pull time for Saturday was thirteen-fifteen. At least one more day with a reasonable sleep schedule - excellent.
I got up at some time in the afternoon. My unemployed lodger and I rode across town to the body shop where my car was being prepared. Right at 2pm, as scheduled, the auto repair guys handed over my keys. I then drove my mother's car to her office. My friend, as planned, followed behind me with my car. The work on my car had been done well enough for the most part, but for $1,400 I truly expected more. There were a couple of imperfections in the paint work and the bumper was off the mark by a few millimeters. This was consistent with what one might expect from a fly-by-night local outfit, rather than a highly decorated establishment that charged my insurance company a lot of money.
In any event, I had my car back, so I was looking forward to the chance to kick back and unwind for a while. After watching a truly terrible movie (Grown Ups), I decided that I might as well head over to the local pub and catch the second half of the Tigers game. They lost, of course. It's what they do. Then back home for more relaxation, armed with the knowledge that I don't have to get up early in the morning. Thirteen-fifteen will work quite nicely.
As of right now (before the guys start calling in sick), I'm scheduled for one run tomorrow. It has a stop in Howell and another in Jackson and that's it. It only pays $129.04 so, unless something changes, I'll end up collecting the daily minimum of $138.08 for my five or six hours of work. Good enough for me. I'd be content to wrap up my shift nice and early and then find that brewmeister buddy of ours over in Warren, although I won't hold my breath. It seems that I never end up with the work to which I was originally assigned. Something always changes.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
8/5/10
A couple of days ago, I showed a video of Basil Marceaux.com to a friend of mine. My friend observed at the time that it would be awesome to see Mr. Marceaux.com appear on Red State Update. Awesome things do sometimes happen, my friends...
That'll leave a fella ready to pledge allegiance to the Republic on his day off. I can tell you that much.
Unfortunately, however, sometimes a day off turns out to be another day of work. These fucking guys and their sick calls are simply amazing to me. Two more today. So the dispatcher called me this morning to see if I could cover a run today and then take tomorrow off instead. I checked my log book and saw that I had plenty of hours left before I would need another restart. Since my only plans for today had involved going to a bar and watching the Tigers lose to those thugs from Chicago, I decided that working wouldn't be so terrible. A Friday off might be nice, after all.
My run had three stops - two in Saginaw and one in Northville, on the way back to the dairy. It paid $153.79, which wasn't terrible, but the 4pm pull time meant that I would spend an extra half hour stuck in rush hour traffic. What are you gonna do? Just part of the job. The three milk deliveries went fairly easily for me, although I did end up taking one of the old trucks with a manual transmission. This one had a somewhat functional air conditioner, so that was helpful, but it also had its own share of issues.
To put it more succinctly - today's truck was a hunk of shit. This isn't simply a matter of me being accustomed to the shiny new trucks that I usually drive either. Until a month ago, I spent all of my time in a truck with a manual transmission and a little over 500,000 miles on it. The one I drove today has 531,000 miles on it. The difference was astounding. I can't imagine that my old Kenworth would seem so dilapidated after another 800,000 miles on the road. The typical stuff related to driving an old truck was all well and good. The bumpy ride, the noisy engine, and the grubby interior were all to be expected. What wasn't expected was that the damned transmission would pop out of gear whenever I went over a bump in the road. I may not have mentioned this before but I live in Michigan. Our bumpy roads are legendary.
Cruising down the highway comprised quite a bit of today's work, so that part wasn't bad. The truck seemed to stay in gear fairly well whenever it was in 10th. The other aspect of my shift, of course, would involve actually delivering milk. The way the loads were set up was fairly favorable to me. My first stop took seven pallets and only gave back three pallets of empties, creating a little extra working space within my trailer. Then the second stop took nine pallets, leaving only four more for my final delivery. It was easy enough for me to set those four pallets aside before loading up as many empties as possible. (Sixteen empties, in this case.) At the final stop in Northville, I just watched as the dairy guy took his four loaded pallets out of my trailer and replaced them with four empties.
For the second time in as many trips with one of these old trucks, the fuel gauge had escaped my attention in the early going. I had enough to make my 211 mile round trip, but it was pretty close. Calling in sick isn't the only hobby that my coworkers like to pursue. A handful of them are also quite fond of leaving empty fuel tanks for the next guy. Anything you can do to skip those last ten minutes of work, eh fellas?
The timing of a day off tomorrow should end up working out rather favorably for me. I have some errands to run and so forth, including getting my car back from the body shop and dropping Mom's car off at her office. She and my father have been at their place up north all week, so I've been using her car the whole time. She has to work tomorrow though. Dad isn't working, so he can give her a ride in the morning. Then she'll have her car for the drive home and I'll have my car and everything can seem normal for at least a day or two.
That'll leave a fella ready to pledge allegiance to the Republic on his day off. I can tell you that much.
Unfortunately, however, sometimes a day off turns out to be another day of work. These fucking guys and their sick calls are simply amazing to me. Two more today. So the dispatcher called me this morning to see if I could cover a run today and then take tomorrow off instead. I checked my log book and saw that I had plenty of hours left before I would need another restart. Since my only plans for today had involved going to a bar and watching the Tigers lose to those thugs from Chicago, I decided that working wouldn't be so terrible. A Friday off might be nice, after all.
My run had three stops - two in Saginaw and one in Northville, on the way back to the dairy. It paid $153.79, which wasn't terrible, but the 4pm pull time meant that I would spend an extra half hour stuck in rush hour traffic. What are you gonna do? Just part of the job. The three milk deliveries went fairly easily for me, although I did end up taking one of the old trucks with a manual transmission. This one had a somewhat functional air conditioner, so that was helpful, but it also had its own share of issues.
To put it more succinctly - today's truck was a hunk of shit. This isn't simply a matter of me being accustomed to the shiny new trucks that I usually drive either. Until a month ago, I spent all of my time in a truck with a manual transmission and a little over 500,000 miles on it. The one I drove today has 531,000 miles on it. The difference was astounding. I can't imagine that my old Kenworth would seem so dilapidated after another 800,000 miles on the road. The typical stuff related to driving an old truck was all well and good. The bumpy ride, the noisy engine, and the grubby interior were all to be expected. What wasn't expected was that the damned transmission would pop out of gear whenever I went over a bump in the road. I may not have mentioned this before but I live in Michigan. Our bumpy roads are legendary.
Cruising down the highway comprised quite a bit of today's work, so that part wasn't bad. The truck seemed to stay in gear fairly well whenever it was in 10th. The other aspect of my shift, of course, would involve actually delivering milk. The way the loads were set up was fairly favorable to me. My first stop took seven pallets and only gave back three pallets of empties, creating a little extra working space within my trailer. Then the second stop took nine pallets, leaving only four more for my final delivery. It was easy enough for me to set those four pallets aside before loading up as many empties as possible. (Sixteen empties, in this case.) At the final stop in Northville, I just watched as the dairy guy took his four loaded pallets out of my trailer and replaced them with four empties.
For the second time in as many trips with one of these old trucks, the fuel gauge had escaped my attention in the early going. I had enough to make my 211 mile round trip, but it was pretty close. Calling in sick isn't the only hobby that my coworkers like to pursue. A handful of them are also quite fond of leaving empty fuel tanks for the next guy. Anything you can do to skip those last ten minutes of work, eh fellas?
The timing of a day off tomorrow should end up working out rather favorably for me. I have some errands to run and so forth, including getting my car back from the body shop and dropping Mom's car off at her office. She and my father have been at their place up north all week, so I've been using her car the whole time. She has to work tomorrow though. Dad isn't working, so he can give her a ride in the morning. Then she'll have her car for the drive home and I'll have my car and everything can seem normal for at least a day or two.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
8/4/10
I don't want to disrupt an ongoing narrative, so I'll go ahead and share the following info with you - my ankle is fucked. Fortunately though, I wouldn't have to lump any pallets of milk today. All I had to do was take a trailer out to Grand Rapids and then bring another trailer back to Livonia. In related news - if you think I went to Grand Rapids today, you're wrong.
My shift wrapped up last night at 1:45am, so I was available for work today any time after 11:45am. I saw that my Grand Rapids run was scheduled for 11am, so I notified the night dispatcher before I headed home. She adjusted my start time from 11am to noon and sent me on my way.
So I rolled into work this morning and checked in with the main dispatcher dude. I knew what was in store for me, of course, but it's SOP to make sure everything is still a go. Heh. Yeah. As seems to be the case every day at this place, someone called in sick. Flashbacks to my pre-trucking life are inevitable. Every day, without exception, someone calls in sick. That's just the way it goes. By becoming a long haul trucker, I was able to insulate myself from having to deal with the inherent laziness of people, at least to a certain extent. As long as I did what I was told to do, the scheduling nonsense and all the rest would be someone else's problem.
Now it seems that I'm right back in the thick of it all. I still don't have the responsibility to deal with employees who call in sick, but I do end up getting caught in the chain reaction that results. A guy gets sick and can't make his run today. Another guy can cover that one as a second run, but only if his first one is changed to a shorter route. He gets the shorter route and the sick fella's run is covered, so now we're left to deal with the longer route that the second guy gave up. None of the more senior guys want it, since they like their quick and easy runs. One of those "brothers" of mine was more than content to tack on my Grand Rapids turn at the end of his shift though. Of course. So I lost my easy schedule and wound up with two stops in Jackson and one in Hillsdale. The run paid $148.68, which is somewhere in the ballpark of what I would have made on my originally scheduled run. It just took a little over an hour longer and involved a lot more work.
I shuttled a few trailers over to the dairy for a quick $15 once I was legally allowed to work again, then made my pull and headed out to Jackson. The first two stores didn't really seem to have their shit together, so I was at each for around an hour. During the second stop though, I did manage to get the milk for my last stop rotated to the back of the trailer. That last stop went very quickly and easily, so the bit of extra time at the earlier stop was well worth it.
As I rolled across US-12, back toward home, I got a call from my dispatcher. There was a one-stop special order that I would need to deliver once I got back. Those special orders are the cat's meow as far as milk deliveries go. Stores occasionally find themselves in a jam and call the dairy for a few pallets to hold them over until the next scheduled delivery. Today's special order consisted of three pallets going to the store at the corner of Wyoming and 8 Mile. The thirty mile round-trip paid $49.99 plus my $15 incentive for taking a second load. An extra hour and a half of work and an extra $65 in my pocket. That's a pretty solid deal.
By the time I got home and got my shoes off tonight, there was quite a lot of pain and swelling in my recently sprained ankle. It's less colorful than it was last night, seeming to indicate that there wasn't a ton of internal bleeding, so I'm hoping that a day of rest tomorrow will do a lot of good.
My shift wrapped up last night at 1:45am, so I was available for work today any time after 11:45am. I saw that my Grand Rapids run was scheduled for 11am, so I notified the night dispatcher before I headed home. She adjusted my start time from 11am to noon and sent me on my way.
So I rolled into work this morning and checked in with the main dispatcher dude. I knew what was in store for me, of course, but it's SOP to make sure everything is still a go. Heh. Yeah. As seems to be the case every day at this place, someone called in sick. Flashbacks to my pre-trucking life are inevitable. Every day, without exception, someone calls in sick. That's just the way it goes. By becoming a long haul trucker, I was able to insulate myself from having to deal with the inherent laziness of people, at least to a certain extent. As long as I did what I was told to do, the scheduling nonsense and all the rest would be someone else's problem.
Now it seems that I'm right back in the thick of it all. I still don't have the responsibility to deal with employees who call in sick, but I do end up getting caught in the chain reaction that results. A guy gets sick and can't make his run today. Another guy can cover that one as a second run, but only if his first one is changed to a shorter route. He gets the shorter route and the sick fella's run is covered, so now we're left to deal with the longer route that the second guy gave up. None of the more senior guys want it, since they like their quick and easy runs. One of those "brothers" of mine was more than content to tack on my Grand Rapids turn at the end of his shift though. Of course. So I lost my easy schedule and wound up with two stops in Jackson and one in Hillsdale. The run paid $148.68, which is somewhere in the ballpark of what I would have made on my originally scheduled run. It just took a little over an hour longer and involved a lot more work.
I shuttled a few trailers over to the dairy for a quick $15 once I was legally allowed to work again, then made my pull and headed out to Jackson. The first two stores didn't really seem to have their shit together, so I was at each for around an hour. During the second stop though, I did manage to get the milk for my last stop rotated to the back of the trailer. That last stop went very quickly and easily, so the bit of extra time at the earlier stop was well worth it.
As I rolled across US-12, back toward home, I got a call from my dispatcher. There was a one-stop special order that I would need to deliver once I got back. Those special orders are the cat's meow as far as milk deliveries go. Stores occasionally find themselves in a jam and call the dairy for a few pallets to hold them over until the next scheduled delivery. Today's special order consisted of three pallets going to the store at the corner of Wyoming and 8 Mile. The thirty mile round-trip paid $49.99 plus my $15 incentive for taking a second load. An extra hour and a half of work and an extra $65 in my pocket. That's a pretty solid deal.
By the time I got home and got my shoes off tonight, there was quite a lot of pain and swelling in my recently sprained ankle. It's less colorful than it was last night, seeming to indicate that there wasn't a ton of internal bleeding, so I'm hoping that a day of rest tomorrow will do a lot of good.
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