It's time for another of my hypotheses that sounds really brilliant to me but probably doesn't make any sense in reality. ---> The next time I find my miles slacking off, I'm going to tell myself that I need to request home time. Then I'll be raking in the bucks.
It would seem that the only requirements of this hypothesis are for me to think about going home and, perhaps, to tell you folks in blogland about my intentions. The actual requesting of the home time doesn't appear to be a required element, since the pre-plans start popping up before the request has been sent. Yeah, I got another one today. Go figure.
The trip through Ithaca this morning wasn't nearly as slow and tedious as I expected it to be. Certainly the super light payload helped the cause, but even the folks on their way to work were driving like reasonable individuals today. I wound my way out of Dryden on NY-392 until I saw the construction site for the new Greek Peak mountain lodge on my left. Oy. I could already see that I was gonna have some fun delivering to that place. Constructions sites, you see, aren't actually designed with the occasional truck driver in mind. So disrespectful.
Rather than plunge myself into a spot from which I couldn't escape, I parked in a gravel lot across the street from the construction site and went for a walk up the steep driveway. After talking to a few people who had no idea what I should do, I caught up with the general contractor for the lodge project. He told me to drive down to the next street and hang a left. At the top of the hill I would see a sign for Construction Entrance #3. I should enter there and follow the driveway until I got to the water slides. Okay then.
About halfway down the winding driveway inside Entrance #3, that sinking feeling really began to set in - the feeling that I was irreversibly screwed. There was a small gravel parking area full of parked cars and a narrow path winding down around the edge of the construction site. Even if I could manage to get down to the water slides, which was far from a given, there was no possible way that I would be able to get turned around to leave. Without turning around, the only option would be to back out. I've backed out of plenty of jams in my time on the road. There was no way on God's green earth that I would be able to back my way out of there today though. My trailer tires had been hanging off the edge of the gravel as I drove into the place. Backing up that little skinny driveway with its hairpin turns was completely out of the question.
Rather than sit and dwell on my apparent misfortune, I decided to try to find someone who could unload my trailer. Then I would confront the navigational issue once I was forced to do so. I found, as I wandered from one hard-hatted dude to the next, that those people say "fuck" at least twenty times as often as I do. I'm no choir boy by any stretch of the imagination, but damn. I was reminded of the Lewis Black routine where he says that, in New York, "fuck" is nothing more than a comma. Indeed, Lewis. Indeed.
I found a guy who worked for the contractor installing the water slides, so the first step was complete. Second was to get rid of the freight. He and a buddy pulled the four pieces of plastic to the end of the trailer and piled them onto some kind of power equipment dohickey. And that was that. They also showed me another way to exit the construction site, taking away the prospect of my having to back out of there. It was pretty insane to navigate some of the turns, but I inched along in low gear and made my way back toward the lower part of the hillside. There was a spot where I was able to swing across an area of beaten-down grass and get myself onto the main driveway (that I had walked earlier in the morning). From there I wound my way back down to the main road and escaped with no damage.
The best representation that I can find is a scale model, but it looks fairly accurate. None of the paving or landscaping are done yet, but here's a peek at the peak. (Yeah, I'm a regular punster.)
On the right edge of the picture, halfway up from the bottom, you can see the serpentine main driveway where the adventure began and ended. Snaking in (behind the lodge from this perspective), you can see the street that led me from NY-392 to Construction Entrance #3. The entrance itself, with its insane driveway and overloaded parking area, would be off-camera to the left from this perspective. The water slides are right there for you to see. The ones that I delivered were some kind of little kiddie pool things, but that's still the area where they were unloaded. And that pretty white ribbon of concrete in the foreground is the path that I had to follow as I left. Of course it's presently not concrete though. It's mud and gravel and uneven terrain, lined with parked cars and discarded scraps and such. If you connect that path with the original driveway (across the strip of grass between them), the whole voyage comes full circle.
The delivery at the construction site was, for bookkeeping purposes, in Cortland. Interestingly enough, it's listed as a point of interest (a little red square near Virgil, not Cortland) on the Rand McNally motor carrier's atlas. My next pickup was actually in Cortland, so the unpaid "local" deadhead to the shipper was twenty miles long and took a half hour. I made a quick drop/hook there and got back on the road. I had made the same run about a month ago, but I don't think I took the same route from Cortland to Monroe Township this time. I have no idea what route I took that last time around, but I seem to remember a bunch of red lights and traffic along the way. Today I took I-81 to I-380 to I-80 to PA-33 to I-78 to I-287 to River Road to NJ-18 to the turnpike, and it was good. Some of the route did seem familiar though. I distinctly remember going past Rutgers both times. I don't know. I'm rambling here. The point is that it was a nice and easy drive today.
As I rolled southward through Pennsylvania, I got my other pre-plan. As was the case the last time that I intended to go home, I have no idea what is the appropriate protocol to follow. The employee handbook says that we can't request home time until we're within 25 miles of our delivery and we're not planned on another load. That's a Catch-22 if there ever was one. I have no control over the pre-plans, so if they keep coming before I get within 25 miles of my delivery point, I could theoretically never request home time. Obviously that won't do, so I went ahead and sent in my request when I got to this afternoon's consignee, pre-planned or not. Everything has worked out in the past when this scenario has played out. I have no reason to expect any issues this time.
After another quick drop/hook on the delivery end, my next deadhead was a 40-mile job up to Jersey City. In true 'man bites dog' fashion, there was absolutely no traffic on the Jersey Turnpike at 4:30pm today. Bizarre. Then my drop/hook at this evening's shipper was yet another test of my driving skill. The security guard showed me where to drop my empty trailer and then where to get my loaded trailer. Holy jeez, man. It took around forty minutes or so for the whole process. The tight quarters of the drop yard were enhanced nicely by massive potholes full of water and complete darkness. Slowly and carefully though - that's how we do it.
Okay then, all loaded up and ready to roll for Wisconsin. Or not. I had 15 minutes left under the 70 hour rule by the time I was ready to depart. Any guesses as to where you can get within 15 minutes of leaving a shipper on some dilapidated dead-end street in Jersey City? Nowhere. From a dilapidated dead-end street in Jersey City, you can get exactly nowhere within 15 minutes. So I was forced to pull off to the side and park for the night. I didn't realize until I was done and my stomach started rumbling, but it turns out that I had been so busy all day that I forgot to eat. Domino's delivery took care of that part though, so all is now well.
My dispatch has me delivering in Menomonie, Wisconsin on Friday morning. The paperwork says Monday morning but, after exchanging a few messages with the dispatcher tonight, I've been told that Friday it is. Fair enough. Since I can drive around nine and a half hours tomorrow and then seven hours on Thursday, I'll end up having to make a pre-dawn excursion to finish the trip on Friday. C'est la vie. Hell, I may be on some goofy kind of schedule even before Friday. Given the pain in the ass that it was to get into this neighborhood, it would probably behoove me to get the hell out of Jersey City as soon as my ten hour break is up (at 4:15am). There shouldn't be many cars driving around at that hour. If there is any traffic around, I have no idea how I'll get back on the road headed to the turnpike. After starting so early, I'll probably be in the mood for a late morning nap. Then I'll be up all night tossing and turning, since that's the standard routine for me. You see where this is going. It's entirely possible that the early Friday part of the trip will seem perfectly natural by the time we get to it.
The week's paycheck is off to a solid start. After using Sunday and Monday to finish off last week's work, Tuesday brought dispatches of 251 miles, 45 miles, and 1,138 miles, in addition to over $30 in northeast pay. Whatever miles I can get on the way back home should make the week just fine with me.
I guess that's all for tonight. 4:15 am, eh? Oy.
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