"Get The Truck Outta Here"

I'm a polyglot. That means I speak multiple languages. Three of them are European though I'm not quite fluent in German or Italian yet. But I'm working on it. I went to school for one European language, the other two are kinda "self taught". I've got this nifty app called Duolingo and I greatly enjoy it. 

Among the languages I know, several aren't taught online or in the classroom. Life and experience has helped me master "snark", "sarcasm" and "asshole" to a level far above "scholar". These, in addition to just plain English, have become my most common forms of communication. Unfortunately, however, I haven't learned to speak "dumbass" yet. Which led to yesterday's miscommunication. 

See, there's a new Petro truck stop in Illinois and I had to stop there for fuel. Nice, big place with pleasant employees. Inside things were great. When I walked back out, however, things went not great. There was a guy outside with a sign advocating getting trucks off the road. 

My first thought was, "is this some radical new form for committing suicide??" I couldn't help myself. Target acquired and locked. Prepare to engage! 

"Um, excuse me, what's with the sign?" 

We are a group supporting Bernie Sanders' proposal to get trucks off our roads. 

"Hmm. You're a Sanders supporter AND you're at a truck stop advocating putting trucks out of business. So that already tells me what I need to know about you but I'll play along. This could fun for a minute." That was my internal thought. What I said aloud was "you know you're at a truck stop with this, right? That's about like a rabbit hopping into a wolf den.

"So why're you wanting trucks off the road?"

"Because they cause too many deaths and accidents."

"Hhmm. Ok. How many deaths and accidents a year are trucks responsible for?"

"A lot"

"Wow. A lot, eh? Is that an official number? Try this number out: the department of transportation states that in accidents between cars and trucks, the car is at fault for 86% of those accidents. 86%. That's an actual number. 

"So maybe we should advocate to get 86% of the cars off the road and the roads would be much safer. Whatcha think, Sparky?"

"Well trucks go too slow and clog up traffic too."

"Hmm. Let's explore that. Most companies govern, that's limit the speed of, their trucks for insurance purposes. My truck isn't governed. Should I run around driving as fast as you guys do? Let's also remember most cities restrict trucks to certain lanes but not cars. So you guys are free to get around us slow rolling wildebeests of the road.

"Since we're here, though, let's talk some more. Let me ask you, how long can you be up and driving before you're required by law to stop?"

"That's absurd. No one tells me when I can and can't drive. But at least I'm smart enough to get off the road when I'm tired. You guys aren't. You drive tired all the time."

"Ok. So you can drive as much as you want. Do you know that the department of transportation limits us to no more than 14 hours on duty, meaning 'up and doing stuff', with no more than 11 hours of those being drive time? And, of those 11, we can't be on duty for more than 8 hours before being required to take a break. 

"Look around, Tiger, you see all those trucks in the parking lot? Those guys are sleeping or taking their required break. Our choices for places to stop are more limited because of the size of our vehicle but we do stop when needed.

"Now, what's your solution to trucks? People need stuff. We bring stuff. It seems to work that way."

"We could just move everything by train. It's better for the environment and won't cause so much trouble on the roads."

"Capital idea, my man! Capital idea. Wait. You seem to be wearing store bought clothes. So let me ask you, if I may, when you went to the mall to get your clothes did you happen to see... Oh, I don't know, a TRAIN STATION there? Get your car at a dealership? See a train depot on the lot? At the gas station? The grocery store? Should I continue or are you getting the general idea here?"

"We could build more railways. It would create more jobs."

"Oh. You mean jobs for the 650,000 plus people you're looking to put out of a job? You ever pick up one piece of railroad rail? It's heavy. How do you plan on getting that rail everywhere? Got a train that doesn't need rail? Yep. It's called a truck.

"Look, killer, right up until I saw your sign and you started speaking I assumed you were brighter than your shoes. After that I rapidly changed my mind. I recommend Tony Chachere's."

"Huh?"

"Tony Chachere's. It's a seasoning. We like our food seasoned. Good luck out here, you're gonna need it. I've gotta run. But, before I go, consider this:

You want trucks off the road in your county, imagine when you've gotta drive to the next county for pretty much everything you need that you can't grow. Welcome to the Wild West, pardner"

Now, as it turns out, the website he mentioned (yes, I've omitted their website because I simply don't promote their cause) was founded by a woman who lost her 8 year old grandson due to a "collision with an 18 wheeler". Let's process that. Not "was hit by", but collided into. 

In other words, THEY ran into the truck. The loss of a loved one is tragic, I understand that. However, to fault trucks for people in cars not knowing how to drive is idiotic. 

We (truck drivers) deliver products that everyone needs. Just like the rest of you, we are simply trying to do a job. We don't run around looking to cause problems for cars. More often than not, cars are the ones causing the accidents. Think long and hard about what life would be like if you couldn't just go to the store to get what you want. What life would be like if you couldn't just stop in and fill up your car at the gas station. Even what it would be like if there were no lumber stores or buildings to get materials needed to build or run your home. 

People hate that our giant vehicles get in the way and slow them down. They blame us every time they cut us off and cause an accident. They want us off the roads but they fail to realize how much we drive the economy. Highway usage taxes and fees in the billions yearly that help support construction of new roads and repair of old ones. They fail to realize how post apocalyptic the world would be within a week if we all just stopped. 

"Idiot on Board"

I'm not going to die behind the wheel of this truck. Nor will it be old age that does me in. I've already beaten old age anyway. I'm ageless. 

Nope, what's going to do me in is the electric chair or lethal injection, depending on where I get convicted. What's going to happen is I'm going to end up shaking someone to death while screaming something like "are you seriously that stupid?! Tell me you haven't bred!" 

There's a strong chance the bystanders will be recording the whole incident because that's just what people do these days. The smarter ones will stay quiet though. 

Why am I Dextering people in my mind, though? Well I'm glad you asked because I was about to vent anyway. First, for you newcomers, you'll find I'm less "antisocial" and more "anti society". 

So I'm driving along today going through Columbia, SC and minding my own business. I'm cruising along doing the speed limit because I'm a law abiding citizen and stuff. Or I might've been doing about 5 over because I'm also kinda rebellious. The right hand lane turns into a long line of traffic that's trying to exit so I get over into the middle lane. 

As I do that a tiny car (something like a Yaris, I think) gets over from the far left lane and stays a little bit ahead of me. It was a successful merge. There was applause all around or should've been. For about a mile we are flowing nice and smoothly. Right up until she gets to the point that exit lane veers off. 

That's the point where she throws her turn signal on and comes to a stop, apparently hoping someone will let her in in the exit lane. So this whole time she was just trying to cut in at the front of the line? Fortunately for her, I was trying to leave a cushion of space and I was paying attention. Otherwise she would've gotten a 75 foot long suppository. I laid on the air horn and locked up my brakes to keep from running this twit over. 

Let's be clear about this though. The main reason we don't run you guys over when you do that is because we've got a schedule to keep. Well, that's my reason. I don't feel like wasting a day on the paperwork involved. Plus I don't want to mess up my truck and get idiot all over it. It's bad for the paint job. 

Did she notice that she nearly became mush?  I'm pretty sure she did because she quit texting or facebooking long enough to flip me off. Yeah, she flipped ME off like I was the asshat here when SHE was the one trying to defeat traffic AND stopping in the travel lane. Sure, I'm the bad guy. I can only hope she was making her own funeral arrangements on that phone of hers. 

Hey, you wanna text, Facebook, surf the web, whatever, I'm fine with that. Pick an empty stretch of road and have at. Hell, get on a nice flat straightaway that's empty and pull up your favorite blog if you want. So long as it's mine. Read an ebook if you want. (Again, I recommend the one I co-authored. It's on Nook. Look for "Words From the Heart"). Just don't do that shit in the middle of town. Read your exit signs instead. 

Had I hit her then they'd have automatically come after me. Why? Because I'm a "professional driver". That makes everyone else amateurs by default. So how's that fair? You give me a road to do my professional driving on and an amateur gets in my way and gets hurt and it's MY fault?! 

That's like letting little Johnny take his gocart out on a race track and blaming the other drivers if he gets run over. That's just...dumb. 

On the same token, if you drive a truck and you're riding the bumper of the car in front of you then you're just an asshole. There's no excuse for that. Back off and act right. You wouldn't want a truck in your trunk if you were driving around with your kids in the backseat. There's no way you could react in time to even slow down if they hit the brakes hard. Hell, even if you're in a car, just don't tailgate. It's senseless. 

Conversely, if you're not even doing the speed limit and you're out in that far left lane or middle lane, you're an idiot. Slower traffic keep right. I'm not asking you to build rockets; just have some sense. 

"But they've got handicap plates.." 

So? Stupid isn't a handicap. I mean, it kinda IS but not the kind that gets you the plates. If it were then there'd be tons of them on the road. In fact, stupid is so common these days that having some sense almost qualifies you as an X-man. 

In many places trucks aren't allowed in the left lane. So that middle lane becomes our "fast lane". It's where we go to get around morons who don't know which exit they want. 

Here's the thing...when folks get in that middle lane and just sit there, we've got limited choices. We can either get in the far right lane and play "dodge car" with the folks who can't figure out how to merge at highway speeds (that seems to be just about everyone) or we can get out in that far left lane to pass you. That's the "high dollar lane" for us truckers. It's called that because of the size of the ticket we get for being in it. If you see us coming up behind you in the middle lane then just move to the right. Or you can just stay outta my fast lane unless you're going faster than me! Know where you're going and read the signs. It's not brain surgery. 

Which reminds me. The other day I saw a cargo van from some dog breeder's farm. I think it said "Blasik Labs" or something on the side. The license plate read "Labbie". I found that humorous for some reason. There was a sign on back that read "crated dogs don't tailgate". Now, I took this to mean that the dogs won't tailgate people so long as they're in those crates. 

I was later informed it probably meant don't tailgate the van because there are animals inside. I thought, "how absurd. So it's ok to tailgate if there aren't crated dogs in a vehicle?!" If I understand that correctly then there are circumstances where tailgating is perfectly acceptable? How about we just put bumper stickers on all vehicles that read "back off, asshole!"  

Speaking of which, I appreciate these signs "baby on board". I recently had a conversation in which we discussed the origin of these signs. What most people don't know is that they were created to alert first responders to look for a child in case of emergency. 

Good idea. However, we get carried away with stuff here in America. Yes, it's not bad to put a sign up in the window so emergency personnel know to look past that window. On a full size conversion van or large SUV this could be necessary. If you need this sign in your Honda Fit then you must be expecting a blind firefighter to be coming to your rescue. Your car is only so big, your kid isn't lost in your back seat. 

But then we took it even farther, to the point of ridiculous, as is the American way. "Chihuahua on board", "pug on board", "cat on board", the list goes on. Look, we don't care. Chihuahuas are bitey little assholes. And a cat?! Yeah, I'm gonna reach in to rescue that razor clawed thing while it's freaking out? Not a chance in hell. 

If your precious Siamese is in a cat carrier wearing a straight jacket and a Hannibal Lecter mask...maybe. But that's a weak maybe. 

Here's a better idea. Try not to drive like a moron. Especially if you've got your kids in the car. (Someone else's kids? Well, I guess it depends whether or not you like them). Play with your own life if you must but leave them at home when you do it. In the motoring world size matters and I guarantee you I'll win. 

Look, if you can't figure out what's smart and what isn't before you get on the road then just turn in your license and get an Amish car. You obviously need a horse because it's got more sense than you do. You ever hear about a massive pileup of buggies? No. Why? Because they don't run around driving like morons. How's that for insulting?! People who don't even own cars have better driving skills than the rest of you! 

A group of people who think electricity is a passing fad and think taking their picture will steal their soul or something have more common sense than some yuppy in a Prius. 

"I want to minimize our impact on the planet.." Blah blah blah. 

You stop that go cart in front of me on the highway you're gonna make an impact on my grill. Pay attention or you'll be lucky if you're driving a wheelchair. 

"The Good, The Bad and The Dumb"

Ok, let's just get this out of the way up front: I'm probably going to say something things in this post that are going to offend some people. I do that sometimes; I say things that upset someone's liberal sensibilities and they write me about what a meany I am. Good times. 

So, quick, avert thine eyes lest you read on and risk my "less than progressive" ways upsetting you. For everyone who's still here, come on in. Enjoy the train wreck about to unfold...

So I go into the driver's lounge with my food, right? Well I end up being the only person in there. First off, that's clearly a sign of the apocalypse. Secondly, the tv is on "COPS", one of my favorite shows. Can my day get any better? I say nay. 

Talk about good fortune, they've got fresh hot wings and half gallon containers of cow juice. I recently switched to low-fat milk so I apparently feel I have to consume larger quantities. Don't judge Grog and his appetite. 

Consumables purchased I practically skip back into the tv room. Just in time for a chase scene to start. (It really is shaping up to be a perfect evening). Here's how it plays out:

A driver was speeding and flees going north in the southbound lanes. He spins out and a cop tries to get in front of him. The dude hits the cop car and takes off. Another cop gets involved. Dude spins out again on a bridge. They think they've got him pinned in. Until he backs up and goes around them. 

From there they change directions and pursue him some more. (By the way, they'd said "we've got him boxed in" right before he figured out they left the lid open on that box. Good going, cops. It shouldn't have taken an engineer to figure out he wasn't as "boxed in" as they thought). Anyway, back to the chase. He's speeding away and loses control on a turn. BAMMO! He hits a car head-on. 

Bad luck for the innocent motorist who got hit. The cops zoom in, get the suspect on the ground and in custody. Hooray for the good guys, right? Their first concern is to check on the other driver and any by-standers. They call for medical assistance, make sure no one is in immediate need and turn their attention to Mr Bad Guy Driver (they don't give names so I make them up). Turns out he's drunk. Not just a little but a lot. We're talking near coma here. 

Ambulances show up and paramedics tend to Mr What The Hell, I Was On My Way Home guy. Long name, I know, but it seemed to fit him. While he's getting looked at the cops explain to the camera crew that they're gonna get Mr Bad Guy Driver taken to the hospital to get checked out then he's going to jail. Because he did bad things and innocent people got hurt. 

And here's where I start having a problem. This jackalope didn't care about anyone else when he started driving drunk. He didn't care who he may kill while playing Gone In 60 Seconds with the cops. Yet he's being taken care of and taken to the hospital in case he got hurt. 

I say no. He doesn't deserve that medical care. Nope. I don't care if he ruptured his spleen and shattered his pelvis. I couldn't care less if he was bleeding out. You show a blatant disregard for those you could've killed, why should we care about your well-being? 

This led me to think about an experience I had many years ago. I'd only been driving a truck for about a year at the time. I can still remember it like it just happened though. 

I was driving through San Antonio about 6 in the morning on a Sunday. Traffic was really light and there was a local day-cab truck in front of me. Fortunately I always leave plenty of distance between me and whoever is in front of me. 

Up ahead I saw a car pull onto the shoulder of the highway and park. The driver's side door opened just a crack. The other truck and I were in the middle lane so there was plenty of room if the driver decided to get out. 

As we got closer, he did get out. As soon as he got both feet on the ground he took off at a sprint and ran out in front of the lead truck. I swerved a little out of instinct but I'm surprised I managed to find the brake pedal because I was so shocked by what I was witnessing. 

This guy made it almost fully in front of the other truck. Almost. Instead he got clipped by the passenger side fender. And he flew. About 10 feet in the air and 15 feet or so sideways. He basically caromed off the truck like a human snooker ball. He landed back on the shoulder of the highway but he was definitely not going to get back up. 

The driver that hit him pulled to the shoulder quickly. I pulled in behind him. I ran back to check on the runner. He was alive but probably just barely. Several cars were already pulling over and everyone was calling 911. 

The truck driver that hit him? He was still behind the wheel. Crying. Yes, I would've probably been too had I been him. Except rumor has it I may lack tear ducts. Who did I feel for though? The truck driver. Not just because he's a fellow truck driver but because he was an innocent victim who's life may get ruined for this. 

The Bouncing Runner got airlifted to the hospital where they managed to save his life. I remember standing there, though, while he was moaning "help me". And I remember thinking "just a second ago you didn't care whose life you ruined and now you want help. Ironic."

Does that make me cold and callous? Possibly. But I think we should care more for those who deserve it. Those who value life. Their own life and the lives of others. 

Criminals generally don't care who they hurt in the commission of their crimes. By definition criminals aren't the most moral people. Some are worse than others, I'll agree. However, I'm real tired of seeing people claim there's a police brutality issue. Theirs are generally the first lives on the line when dealing with the bad guys. Show them some appreciation. 

"Narcoleptic Nymphomaniac"

Here I am, the indestructible Incredible Bulk!, sitting in my truck replaying the day's events in my head. Where did I go wrong? How could I have prevented this? Why did I agree to come to Irving, TX? 

I woke up early without my alarm. I guess that should've been my first clue. Normally I like to sleep in when I can so when my body's like "Yeeeeeah! Up and at em, Sparky!" at 4:30 in the morning that should've been a sign. Instead I took as logical since I wanted to get to the Dallas area early. Parking is nearly impossible anywhere near there so the earlier the better. 

Turns out that any time after Friday is just plain bad. Getting there at 1:45 on a Sunday really wasn't the way to go. I'd stopped at 3 different truck stops when I got close. 

The first was a Loves in Rockwall. As I pulled in a truck was vacating a spot. That was the only available spot but I was still at the entrance when I saw a truck already setting up to back into that opening. Figures. 

So I kept on going. A mile down the road is a TA truck stop. I knew it was laughable but I had to try. First, allow me to explain that this truck stop is already on my "in case of emergency...STILL try to avoid this mess" list. Yeah yeah, it's a long name for a list but there are several truck stops on it. Like the Pilot just east of Baton Rouge. Both of these places are horrible. Even tornadoes would skip them. Sadly. 

Anyway, so I get to the TA and circle the lot. Yes, you've gotta circle like vultures in these places. Or like sharks sensing blood in the water. I circle and I pray. And I'm not the praying type so that's gotta tell you something. 

There it is! One open spot. A reserved parking spot. A few of the greedier truck stops like TA and Petro have started doing that, putting in "reserved" spots. These used to be regular parking spots but those corporate leeches found a way to make more money off us since parking is difficult to find. $12.00 for a shower, .35-.50 cents over cost per gallon of fuel, and now $12-$15 just to park. They were also kind enough to put in fast food restaurants like Taco Bell and Burger King and raise the prices above the standard. But I digress. 

I go inside and say I see an open reserved spot available and I'd like to take it. Nope. Apparently that spot's already been taken too. Of course. That's my luck. 

So now I've no choice but go farther into the Dallas area. This is not going to be good. I already know that. As luck would have it, my trucker GPS found a truck stop about 5 miles from where I need to be in Irving. So that's a plus. 

I call them. "Excuse me, my GPS says you guys are a truck stop. Are you an actual full-size truck stop with truck parking?" (Sounds like a stupid question but you'd be surprised how many places aren't really truck stops but "fuel stops" with no parking). "Oh, you are? Excellent. Do you have any parking available?" They don't know. But they were kind enough to let me know it's paid parking. Of course. 

So they don't know if they actually have any spots available and they can't give me directions to get there. They can tell me they have a shop, which is good because I need to replace a wheel seal. They just don't know if they have any mechanics on duty. 

So I'm thinking "you guys aren't much good to me alive, are you?" And I'm off to play "Where's Waldo" with a truck stop. Good times. I try to follow my truck GPS to get there but it has me taking so many turns, twists, backtracks and loops that it'd give a pretzel vertigo. During the trip I must've let loose more cuss words than an Irishman and Australian arguing. I hate Dallas traffic. Especially so on rainy days like this. 

I finally arrive at my destination. Big D's Travel Plaza. Oh boy. The smell alone is probably why there were empty spots. It was an outright attack on my olfactory senses. I was truly shocked not to see a massive pig farm next door since it certainly smelled like there must be. 

Since I wasn't sure I'd find parking down in the parking pit they gave us, I parked first. I left my phone in the truck to protect it from the monsoon as I began the half mile hike up to the fuel desk to pay for my parking. I'd like to say they were pleasant people to deal with but they really weren't. And I was already thinking that THEY should be paying US to park here. 

Parking pass in hand I started the journey back to my truck. I certainly have no problem walking long distances thanks to my tree trunk looking legs but the long drive, weather and Dallas traffic had worn me down. 

So the trip back to my truck was starting to look like a Lord of the Rings kinda journey. I was wishing I'd brought bread and a wine skin. I couldn't even lose myself in the Internet since I'd left my phone in the truck to protect it from the rain. So I just plodded along with my head down, hands in my pockets. 

Had I been looking up I probably wouldn't have given a second thought to the pickup truck coming towards me anyway. We see cars in truck stops all the time so it's no big deal. Well, this time it was I guess. They pulled up to me and asked if I wanted to buy DVDs. Again, not unusual at all. You can get some pretty high quality pirated DVDs at truck stops. 

I wasn't interested in movies today though so I declined. No, I'm not interested in a tv either. Thanks anyway. These were pretty pushy salesmen though and decided they were gonna make money regardless. Or so the gun indicated when they pointed it at me and said "then I'll take what you got. Gimme your wallet." 

Normally I resist being told what to do but I figured I'd better not argue with someone holding a gun. 

After a little pleading from me they were kind enough to let me remove my license before surrendering my wallet. That was mighty swell of them. I would've preferred to keep the whole wallet too. That would've been better. 

Unfortunately, they decided that the license was my cut and everything else was theirs. I work, they get paid. Ah, so this is the welfare "direct approach". Makes more sense now. 

In retrospect I probably could've talked my way into just giving them the $200+ I had in cash and kept my whole wallet. I just wasn't thinking clearly. Guns apparently do that to me. At the time I just asked myself if my life was worth my wallet and its contents and decided it was worth more. Did I overdramatize it in my head at the time? I doubt it. However, I don't know if the gun was loaded or not and figured I didn't want to ask. Hell, I can honestly say I don't even know if it was real. It probably was but, again, does one ask in this situation? I'm not sure what the robbery protocol is. What I do know is that I've got two kids at home that want to see me come home. That and I've gotta stick around so I can share these lovely posts for you guys. Gosh, so much responsibility. 

I was told I should've immediately called the police once I got to my truck. I didn't catch the license plate and my only real description was "it was two black guys and a big gun". Sure, in the Dallas area that should narrow it down significantly. 

Anyway, what've I learned from this? Mostly that that truck stop really stinks. Both figuratively and literally. I certainly won't be going back there. The worst part? They didn't have milk. Ruins my whole day. 

The other thing I learned is that I am, in fact, still indestructible. Notice I'm still here and haven't been destroyed? Clearly that makes me indestructible. Logic. Tada and shit. 

Situations like this are rare but I can tell you firsthand that they happen. So the next time you're mad that a truck is in your way or something just remember that if that's the worst part of your day maybe your day isn't so bad. 

Now, to address a couple of the questions I've been asked:

A) were you scared?

Seriously?! Of course I was scared. There was a gun pointed at my face. It would totally ruin my future modeling career if I got my face shot off. Was I scared?? The dude ended up with my wallet, didn't he? You do the math. 

B) what kind of gun was it?

Big. Is that a make? All I knew was that whatever came out of the hole at the end would probably make me dead or in serious pain. I don't like either of those things. Sorry I didn't think to ask the guy what his weapon of choice was. 

C) do you even know if it was loaded?

Um. No. I felt that moment wasn't the appropriate time to discuss with him the importance of gun safety. I do know that if it's loaded and he pulls the trigger it makes a noise but I didn't want to have to identify the gun by its sound or verify its lethality that way. 

After a long, less than perfect day, I just headed back to my truck. My pride and finances were injured but I was physically fine. So I made my obligatory phone calls then decided I was just done with the day. 

"Idiots at Work"

I guest starred on Ice Road Truckers the other day. Ok, so maybe I just drove through the snow and pretended there was a camera crew with me as I talked about my job. I'm all driving along going, "see, ya gotta be careful in these mountains when it's icy like this or you'll end up like that car over there.." Then I'd point to a car in the median. 

It was great fun and my audience loved it as my narrative continued. The camera would turn and pan to people slipping and sliding as they tried to maintain control. "Idiots behind the wheel" I'd call them. I cautioned my viewers to drive sensibly in non-dry weather. 

I know I'm considered a "professional driver" because of my line of work. However, not everyone behind the wheel of a big truck is, to my reckoning, "professional". I see plenty of these guys that just generally make the rest of us look bad. 

Maybe it's not just truckers though. Maybe Americans in general just lack sense. Both on the road and off. 

As a flatbedder I went to many a job site delivering materials. Nails, boards, sheets of metal, bulldozers, all-terrain forklifts, and other hazards were all over those sites. Yet I'd see drivers hop out wearing flip flops like they were about to unload a cooler at the beach. Then they'd bitch and moan about being told to put on actual SHOES. You know, those things designed to help you keep your toes. 

I'd see guys getting out of trucks with bellies swinging way past their crotch, wearing shirts from the kids section at Walmart. Dude, no one wants to see that. No one. Seriously, guys, if you feel a breeze blowing through your belly button and it's whistling like tornado in a canyon, maybe that should clue you in that your shirt is too small. 

If you're a guy with a "C" cup, maybe you should buy bigger clothes. Or go on a diet. I've had many a meal ruined by seeing some man-walrus belly up to the buffet trough and had that exposed flesh rubbing up on the food. Nothing makes me ask for my check quicker. In fact, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth just typing this out. Why must I be such a visual thinker?! 

Speaking of which, who's the evil mastermind that started this trend of walking around in pajamas? Or socks with sandals? What the hell, people?! Pajamas are for going to bed, not for your afternoon stroll! What's next, walking around in briefs and a robe? "Oh, it's time to go get gas, better put my robe on." 

Back to the socks and sandals. Isn't the point behind sandals so that you can be barefoot but not have rocks hurt your feet? I've even seen guys wearing flip flops with socks. I mean, I appreciate you covering your talons but maybe shoes would go better with socks. The point behind socks is to absorb the sweat from your feet. You want to be barefoot but your feet sweat like a greenhouse?! 

And what's up with those ridiculous fingerless "driving gloves"? Clearly you didn't just step out of the gym. Is the steering wheel too heavy? What's next, a helmet while you drive?! This isn't Indy racing, it's truck driving. Although, admittedly, I see people in cars wearing gloves too sometimes. Let me help you out here....you look stupid. We laugh at you folks who wear gloves to drive. 

Just once I want to get out of my truck at a truck stop wearing a full on NASCAR driving suit. Gloves, neck brace, helmet and all. I'd wait for some dude in his cute little fingerless gloves to ask why I'm dressed like that and I'd be all, "what? This is the next step up from your gloves, man. This is the 'full pro' kit they sell. You ready for the big leagues?" I bet the sarcasm would be lost on him though. Could you just imagine seeing someone driving around in their little Miata dressed like that? I'd wanna wreck into them and scream "rubbing is racing!" 

One day I'm going to have to go to the gokart racing track dressed like that. Stop every other lap and ask them for a tire change. I wonder how they'd react...

"Highway Headache"

I almost had to kill someone the other day. There's a pretty good chance it would've been considered a public service. "Just chlorinating the gene pool, your honor." Then they'd have given me a commendation and sent me on my way. Except I'm a truck driver so they'd probably go for the death sentence. Traffic accidents are always our fault ya know. The media seems to think it's always with malicious intent. 

If we ever actually snapped and took out our aggressions on people who are asking for it then there'd be a drastic decrease in stupid people though. Some people, like the potato head that tried to get me to kill him, really shouldn't be allowed out in public. 

You see, if I'm rolling through Ohio or Pennsylvania and I'm on tiny country roads then I know to watch out for Amish cars. I know that every time I crest a hill there's a chance I'll see a one horse power buggy trotting along at about 8 miles an hour. And I drive accordingly. They get their own little lane and everything. 

We try not to scare their little horse or mule when we slow down behind them or hammer down to get around them. They give us a wave and a smile as we try to ease past them. They may be slow but they know it and try to stay out of our way. It's a simple system and we work well together. 

Then there's "the others". The ones who have no idea how much of an issue they cause. Or maybe they know and just don't care. Either way, their lack of common sense may be their undoing. 

Like this clown today. I'm just motoring along in the middle lane. I'm moving along at a fairly high rate of fuel consumption as I see a truck on the on ramp up ahead of me. So I cover the brake with my foot in case traffic shifts to accommodate him. He's got a full size conversion van behind him. 

The dude in the van just can't wait to get going and starts cutting across from the on ramp, across 2 lanes of traffic, into the far left lane. In the process he cuts off the car in the right lane, me, and everyone in the far left lane. All while traveling at a blistering 40 mph. 

Everyone's panic braking, including me. I've got nowhere to go and I was just certain I was gonna kill this guy. I'm flatspotting my tires, smoking all 5 axles and praying that when we collide I'll have a chance to pull him outta his van and bounce his head off the hood before the cops show up. 

Luckily, we all managed to avoid him and he just kept puttering along, gradually picking up speed. Meanwhile, I'm waiting to hear cars crashing into me or for the sound of a trailer load of freight shifting. Talk about "near miss". Hell, it was more like a "near hit". 

So I find the right gear and get rolling from a near stop. Here I am grabbing gears and picking up speed again as Captain Oblivious is steadily gain speed finally. I guess he finally decided to mash motor but his old van doesn't have enough motor to get away from me. I'm still rolling smoke as I finally draw even with him and look over to see if Stevie Wonder is behind the wheel. 

Yes, I saw that he had a handicap tag hanging in his window but being stupid shouldn't qualify them for that. If it did then a vast majority of drivers would need those special parking spots near the front at Walmart. This guy? He looks over and glares at me like he's pissed I nearly hit him back there. 

He's still motoring along in the fast lane not going much faster than a thanksgiving day float and he's mad at the rest of US! Seriously?! How do people like this manage to breathe on their own? 

I didn't have time to play cat and retard with him so I stoked the fires and powered on down the highway. Yet another motorist who doesn't comprehend that everyone else on the road is what's keeping them alive. 

"No Truckin Way"

Ok, I've gotta start this one with a disclaimer. I own my truck and trailer. I'm what's called "an ownin operatiner" but I know people who drive trucks owned by companies. Those companies have fairly strict rules about certain things. Therefore, this story is not mine but is an approximation of a story I was told. I may have taken a little license in its telling but I'm telling it in first person anyway though because that's just how I write. If this were about me, here's how it would go:

So I show up in New Jersey to make a delivery the other day. Ok, so it was today but it feels like a week has passed already while I'm sitting here. I pull up to where the "yard" is supposed to be and it's packed like a city girl going camping. There's hardly walking room, much less truck room so I park out in the road and go looking for a shipping office. 

I would've worn numbers if I'd known I was entering some sadistic track and field event. 

I'm dodging trucks, hurtling people and pacing myself to set a new record in the 5k. The whole time thinking "I bet some cultures send people to New Jersey as a form of punishment. Why do I ever agree to come to these places?!"

After 2 hours of "rush hour" to get here (why do they even call it "rush hour"? It should be called "in no big hurry 3 hours") I'm already frazzled and ready to kick some small, furry creature should I find one. In Jersey? Ha! 

But I finally find a dock that appears to be for receiving. As I try asking about delivering, the guy starts waving his arms around like he's drowning and shit. I didn't know if I should keep talking or dial 911. He's all frantic "no unload here! No unload. You no come here unload." Now, I know you guys are picturing a little Chinese guy. Racists. He's Mexican. 

After a couple minutes of poly lingual charades I figure out he wants me to go a building over. Excellent, my truck is still out in the road. "Please, no one hurt my baby"

Fortunately, another driver offers to lead me through the yard to a big spot for me to turn around. For you non-truckers, backing in from the passenger side is called "blind siding". Wanna guess why? Backing in that way is like putting Stevie Wonder behind the wheel. 

So I sprint back out to my truck. Well, the best I can with everyone milling around. Is it just me or did it get 30 degrees warmer all of the sudden? I look up and the sun is 3 times bigger than it was a few minutes ago. 

In the midst of my heat stroke I climb up in the cab to follow this other truck. In a crowd of 50 trucks it's like playing "Where's Waldo" on a global scale. I'm looking for the white truck. Oh good, that narrows it down to 45 of them. 

I find the Good Samaritan and he's driving around like he's in a sports car, flinging himself from one block to another without turn signals. Seriously? "Follow" you? This guy's driving like he's trying to lose me. I can't tell if he has an actual destination in mind or if he's just using the Force to guide him.

Mission accomplished. I've now lost HIM and my sense of direction. But I finally manage to get to an intersection where I can turn around. An intersection with no protected green arrow and half the state of New Jersey blocking the intersection. I sit at this light, waiting so long for a break in traffic, that it's gone green to red three times. I'm losing all patience and ready to play bumper cars. Finally, frustrated to the point homicide is an attractive option, I make a desperate move. There's a big, shiny, beautiful Peterbilt headed towards the intersection on the yellow light. I figure "his truck is too nice, he won't hit me and mess up his truck" so I make a quick left and brace for impact as cars torpedo themselves at me all pissed that I'm on their road. How dare I deliver shit they need! 

Another "quick left" and I'm pointed back towards the yard. I'm thinking "I'm coming in hot, clear a spot!" as I pull a Tokyo Drift into the lot, this time facing the direction I need. 

Finally a receiving guy comes over to point where he wants me and my trailer. I laugh, "no, seriously, where do you want me?" He's adamant, "right there." So I respond, "which part of 'no, seriously' makes you think this thing will fit THERE??" 

Here I should mention that backing into a spot can be tough when a yard is dead. This place being an anthill of people makes it virtually impossible. As do the trucks and trailers lined up next to the building. It's a physics thing. 80 feet of vehicle needs 80 feet of room and there "might be" enough. But just barely. And I'm tinkering on insanity as it is. 

Here's the part where I hang my head in trucker shame. (Author's note here: I can't believe I'm even writing this part in first person it pains me so much but I'm committed now). I looked at this space, looked around, and felt my blood run cold as I considered my options. I needed this load delivered but I just knew that in my current state I'd make a mess of even trying. So I went to talk to the "yard dog" (trucker jargon for the worker who shuttles trailers about the yard in a vehicle less than half as long as our sleeper trucks) to weigh out options and throw myself at his mercy. I'd hoped, best case scenario, that I'd just drop my trailer where I was and he'd back it into the spot. 

Upon talking to him I found out he'd had over 30 years on the road and he understood my situation. But he couldn't just hook to my trailer. The solution? (Shudder) he climbed up in my truck and backed it in for me. With an ease that verified the decades of practice he'd claimed. 

Now, here I am, hiding in my truck and waiting for them to finish. Either I'm gonna have to drag a few trailers away from the dock when they're done or there may be an issue with getting back out. All the local guys were smart enough to flee so I'm kinda stuck here. I guess I'll have to adopt a New Jersey accent and prepare for this spot to be my new home. Well, at least Jersey has good pizza. 

"Trucking Frustrated"

So you think the trucker life seems kinda neat. All that traveling, you get paid to just drive around...

For some people it's not just a job, it's a lifestyle. I know married couples whose truck is basically an apartment, complete with a kitchen. They stay out on the road pretty much year round working and making too much money. I'm not saying it can't be lucrative. Depending on the type of freight you want to haul, the risk and the labor you're willing to put in, most of the time, if you own your own truck and trailer, the money is there. Me, I'll be honest, I generally only work hard enough to keep my income right where I want it. I know that sounds weird. But it's not about how much you make, it's about how much you get to keep. So I stay within a certain tax bracket. 

One of the upsides to tailoring my income is that I usually stay home anywhere from a week to a month and a half. I call that "quality time". It involves camping trips, zoo trips and being schedule free while I'm home. So long as I don't get carried away and spend too much while I'm home, it's actually a nice balance. It's like getting a vacation every month. What can I say, being my own boss means my boss is usually pretty cool with being generous to me. 

I still have to drive and work while I'm out here. During the summers my ex wife gets 6 weeks of visitation so I try to capitalize on that and run hard for 6 weeks, stock pile money for their school supplies and clothes, and start setting aside for Christmas and birthdays. It's not a perfect system but it works. 

Now here's the rub. You get days like yesterday. Or weeks like this one. Different things stress me out sometimes and I don't exactly get restful sleep. I wake up every hour or two and have to fight to go back to sleep. Then I get up at 7 in the morning, headache already there, drive 70 miles to pick up a heavy load. Three nice, heavy tarps later and it's fully covered and I'm fully drenched in sweat. Get back in the truck and the ac isn't really blowing cold air. Excellent start. 

Since I picked up the load in Rhode Island I've gotta drive through Connecticut, New York and New Jersey to get out of congestion. That's not like just driving around the block. All the while that headache is going "hey, I thought I'd keep you company today. You've been thinking about other shit so I thought I'd remove your ability to focus on anything but me." Gee, thanks buddy. 

Stop and go traffic. Wrecks on the highway causing us to stop before we can even go. When we do go it's UUUUPP and down across mountains. Throb, throb. "Dear god, I must have an aneurysm. It's 1,800 miles to Houston. Tell me I'm halfway there already. Crap. 1,500 miles left."

Construction, flashing lights and stopped traffic. "Are my ears bleeding?! Am I having a 3 day stroke?! Make it stop! Make it stop! 

Ok, get it together, man. Find a truck stop that has room for your truck and try to sleep it off. Take a fist full of ibuprofen again. Eventually it'll kick in."

So I finally find a truck stop that's got room for my fat ass and my truck at about 9:00 pm. Of course, that's if I pay $15 for a reserved spot. "Here, take my money. Just let me get off the road for the day." Of course, we've gotta play 20 questions under the glare of the fluorescents first. Truck color? Maroon. Truck make? Western Star. Company? Mercer. Truck number? 11168. Here's your ticket but we're out of tape. Just put it on your dash. Ok ok. 

Now, I've got a routine I follow and I adhere to it strictly when I know my brain is in hyper drive. Because I know me. I focus on shit and forget to do things like eat. So I take a can of tuna and put it on my dash. If I stop and get something to eat then I put my can of tuna away. If I forget to eat then my tuna is there as a reminder. Days like yesterday? I couldn't be bothered to open the can. Straight to bed. Asleep. Awake. Asleep. Awake. I finally crash out pretty hard at one point then BANG! BANG! BANG! Someone's pounding on my door. "Driver! Hey, driver!" What?! What do you want?! "I need to see your ticket so I know you can park here." I might've been a little cranky. "Seriously?! You effing woke me up pounding on my door for THAT?! They have my truck info inside. You couldn't just check there? No. You had to wake me up in case I was a DIFFERENT maroon Western Star with the SAME company and truck number. Leave before I let my dogs eat you."

So I was wide awake, head still pounding, when this dude walked off. At 3 in the morning. 

And that, my friends, is the day in the life of a trucker.