6/19/09

I stand roughly 6'2" tall and, at last check, weighed 220 pounds. I have an affinity for red meat, pasta, and beer. I earn my living by sitting on my ass all day, every day. Raise your hand if you think I can pull off a half mile sprint without any warmups or stretches or any of that. Those of you without your hands up, you suck. I'm a regular Carl Lewis... or something.

I was kicking back and relaxing last night, enjoying some down time after several days of tight timelines and hard driving. I happened to be playing golf on my computer in lieu of the real golf that I didn't get to watch earlier in the day. Whack! You've got to be shitting me. How long has it been since my truck got hit in Atlanta? Not terribly long, if memory serves. This time it was the right fender instead of the left, but it looks like a milder version of the same kind of damage.

I had no pants on at the time (for your own sake, don't try to picture that), so I hopped in the bunk to grab a pair. Then I got out, zipping my trousers as I stumbled along and forgetting to put shoes on, to see what the hell the other guy was doing. I spotted his trailer number and committed it to memory, just in case. Yeah, just in case indeed. Dude took off before I could get to the side of his truck.

I hopped back in my cab and wrote down the name of the company and the trailer number. Then I made a call to the local constables to file a report on the hit and run. The dispatcher said that she would send a unit over and I thanked her for her time. Then I decided to play a hunch. I put my shoes on and took off running. There's a Mr. Fuel truck stop down the street and I figured I might as well see if the guy was over there before I had to call my company and tell them that I had been hit by an unknown entity... again. Ha! Found him. I jotted down the plate number from the trailer that had hit my truck and then my phone rang. It was the police dispatcher telling me that the officer had arrived at my truck and I wasn't there. Shit. That was quick. So yeah, not only did I sprint a half mile last night... I did it a second time before I caught my breath from the first. Take that, you naysayers, always naysaying.

I was huffing and puffing like the fat bastard that I am by the time I got back over to the Pilot where I was parked. The officer took my notepad with the information about the other vehicle and told me to wait in my truck. A short time later, he returned with the other driver in tow. The driver didn't know that he had hit my truck, the story goes. Thought he had hit the curb. Fair enough I guess. I was just glad that I caught up to him so I didn't have to call the safety department today and say that I got hit again... and I had no information... again.

So I got the police report from the officer and the insurance info from the other driver. He was also kind enough to help me bend my bumper back out so it's not rubbing against the tire. My turn signal light is cracked and not working, so that will be something that I'll have to handle as soon as possible. Otherwise it's just one more cosmetic hole in the fiberglass, similar to the last one. The truck should be okay to drive until I pass through Joplin again.

I woke today and called the safety people to report the incident. That went pretty smoothly this time around. The safety guy today seemed to have a little more mental acuity than the safety gal from the last time. Then the only remaining issue was my logbook. When I got hit in Atlanta, I was told to make sure that I logged the accident. I was working at the time so I logged the incident on Line 4 and thought nothing of it. This time around I was in the middle of a 34-hour restart. I wasn't working, I wasn't required to be in a state of readiness for work, and I wasn't performing any job-related functions. Going on duty last night would completely screw the restart. I would likely still pick up enough hours to handle the run to Florida but then I would be right back where I am now - out of hours and waiting for midnight to pass each day so I can work. What to do? What to do?

Long story short - no good answers. People have come up with wishy washy interpretations going both ways but I can't find anything definitive. There are hundreds of opinions providing guidance on dozens of topics to be found on the FMCSA website, but again, nothing definitive about this predicament. That one mile of running on foot probably would have to be considered some form of service to my employer. Then again, I am pretty fat and a run every now and again would do me some good. Maybe it was for my own benefit. We'll just have to leave it at that for now. Certain conversations between certain parties have taken place but, in the tradition of one former employee of the Rose Law Firm... I simply don't recall.

The U.S. Open's webcast console is pretty sweet for viewing, if any of you are out on the road and into that sort of thing. It has live video of whatever group they're featuring and constantly updated leaderboards that you can customize with up to five players at a time. So, for example, if most of your players are going to miss the cut and a scrappy little Canadian is the only positive on your roster, you can watch your chances at a free golf vacation going out the window.

Now I have a nice fresh haircut and I'm all showered and shaved and ready to get back into the trucking thing. I may have a face that only a mother could love, but Mom would sure think I'm purty tonight. And I haven't seen any more white whiskers either. So I have that going for me... which is nice. I'm not sure exactly what kind of schedule I'll be running tonight and/or tomorrow. I took a pretty long nap (Sharapova, Kournikova... know what I'm sayin'?) this evening so I might just drive on through the night. That lightning on the horizon and the security guard at the truck stop talking about tornadoes might change my mind though. Time will tell.