"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. 

"One of Those Days"

Today keeps shaping up to be "one of those days".  You know the type I'm talking about. The ones where you have a dream that you're walking through the truck stop in your underwear only to wake up and realize you're actually in the truck stop in your underwear. 

We all have those days. Ok, maybe not exactly like that but you know you've had days where nothing goes according to plan. Like "hey, I'll leave in plenty of time to show up early" then you get lost for 2 hours. 

Like the day you put the dog outside and took the kids to school. You walked in, opened the door to let the dog in and there are the kids looking at you and asking where you took the dog. If this kind of thing has never happened to you then you've clearly led a charmed life. 

Looking back, I should've known that today was gonna be a "do over" type day but I'm infuriatingly optimistic. I attribute that to my being mentally deficient. It's not my fault I'm too stupid to see disaster before dawn. 

So what makes today such a comedy of errors? Here, I'll give you the rundown...

Molly and I were to meet up today near Lexington,KY. I was several hours ahead of her so I parked in Berea at a truck stop to wait. To try to be helpful I told her I'd go pick up her prescription, in the interest of saving time we could spend together. 

Sounds easy enough, right? Not so. It all went downhill from there quickly. She and I both had one of those days. Of course. 

I deliberately chose this truck stop because when I called them to ask, they said there was a Walgreens about a mile away. Awesome. Turns out they and I have differing concepts of distance. But I'll get to that shortly. 

In theory this was to go smoothly. Theory and reality didn't get along today. She started her day by having to pick up a load that seemingly didn't exist. No one had directions to the place, the phone number rang through to a dead line and even her two GPSes (what's the plural for GPS?) couldn't agree. Excellent start to the day. 

As a result, she ended up on back roads in Fuqal Nowhere,Indiana looking for a warehouse that had only been open a few months. It was so new even its employees couldn't remember how to get to work yet. 

When she finally found the joint she called in to the Walgreens near where I was and got them started on the complicated prescription she needed. All was on target. 

An hour later they let her know the pills she normally pays $30 a month for are $100 this time due to some weird insurance mix up. Whatever. They're necessary so price doesn't matter at the moment. We can sort that out later. 

What's that? Another hour later they call back to say they don't actually have what's needed. That's alright, they call the Rite Aid across the street. The prescription gets filled quickly. 

Now comes the fun part. The walk. It's only about a mile, no big deal. Or so I thought. Turns out it was a bigger deal than advertised.

When the order was ready Molly told me there was no rush going to get it because the place was open until 6. Well, I thought I'd be proactive and leave right away because if I didn't I'd probably fall asleep and forget. We know what my attention span is like. Good thing I left early. 

I got myself together. Clothes? Check. Shoes? Check. Phone? Check. Alright, let's get going and earn my merit badge. A little over half mile away I realize I didn't grab my wallet. It's back at the truck. Crap. So I've gotta head back. That's ok, the weather is nice. 

Back to the truck, grab the wallet and vapor mod and head back to Rite Aid. I've got this. 

I cover a mile at a brisk walk. No sign of Walgreens or Rite Aid anywhere. That's ok, maybe it's just on the other side of this residential area. So I just keep moving. As I get into what seems like stores that are from the early 1900's I see a local walking and ask him if I've missed the Walgreens. 

He has no clue so I look up the number and speak with the pharmacist. I tell him where I started from and which direction I'm headed in. Turns out I'm still 3 miles away roughly. 

You've gotta be shitting me.  I'm on the right road, so that's good. But "about a mile" isn't even close to accurate. Well, I'm committed now so I reckon I'll just keep going. 

About a mile later I hit what appears to be the old town center while I'm on the phone with Molly. You know, as it starts to rain. Of course, rain. And? And a fork in the road. Naturally.  

I spot another native and ask directions again. He tells me to stay to the right as he looks at me like I'm radioactive. "You're gonna walk the whole way?" I smile and nod but really want to say "No, I've got a pick up truck in my coat pocket. I just don't feel like using it yet."  

I don't say that because I'm on foot in a backwater town in the rain. Best not to smart off. I could get killed and stuffed. Or stuffed and killed. It's a toss up with these folks. 

"Stick to the right" he says. Okey dokey. Quarter mile later the road forks again. So I do what? Right, I stick to the right. For another half mile until I get to the cemetery. Something tells me I've screwed up so I find one of the living walking amongst the dead. He was quite helpful in letting me know I stuck to the right one too many times. 

So I backtrack to that fork and go left. Roughly half mile later I can see a virtual metropolis as I top a hill. Looks about 2 miles in the distance. Certainly the Rite Aid I'm looking for must be here somewhere. If not then there must be cabs. This walking stuff kinda sucks about now. 

Feet beginning to blister (I'd definitely worn the wrong shoes for this) from the 4, yes FOUR mile walk, I make my way into the Rite Aid. And I'm thinking "what the hell did we do before cars?! This is insane!" 

The pharmacist is a friendly guy though. He's the same one I'd called once earlier when I got lost. He and I talked about the circuitous route I took getting there. Turns out there was a better way that would've shaved off a mile. Note the lack of shock on my face here. 

So I'm paying for the prescription plus the other item I was asked to grab since I was there. That's when the pharmacist asks me, "so how'd you get roped into picking this up anyway?" He knew I was picking this up for my girlfriend. Tired, wet and sore from the cross country trek I didn't even think, I just spoke. "It's birth control pills. I have what you might call a vested interest here." He just laughed and gave me that knowing nod. 

Was my journey over? Of course not. I saw a vapor shop about a block before I got there so I figured I'd stop by on my way back. It's not like I was in a rush at this point. 

Though they didn't have anything I wanted there I did see a young couple talking in the parking lot. Why not give this a shot? So I approached them, "excuse me, how'd you guys like to earn $20?" The guy quickly says, "no. Sorry.", as he looks at me like I'm recruiting drug mules. 

I recognize the look. It's the same one we give to beggars at truck stops. So I quickly add, "I'm just looking for a ride. It's raining and my feet are killing me. I'll gladly pay you for gas. I'll buy lunch. I'll give you cash. Please. I'd call a cab if this town had one. I'm begging here." I guess I'm fortunate that he saw I was sincere. He asked where I needed to go and I told him about my journey from the truck stop. 

As the three of us piled into his girlfriend's car he asked why I'd come all this way. I told him about our predicament of being truck drivers and there's never a drug store near a truck stop. Things were going smoothly. Until..

His girlfriend, driving, casually says "I just wanted to make it known that I do have a knife. In case you try anything." And I instantly responded with, "and I've got birth control and sleeping pills. If you guys have rope it'll be a party." I was tired, sore and frustrated. Apparently my humor wasn't appreciated. 

Now, imagine you're giving a random stranger a ride in the rain and he's carrying sleeping pills and birth control pills. I thought she was gonna wreck the car. 

I'm happy to report that, although they promptly kicked me out of the car, the half mile I had left back to my truck at that point was mostly uneventful. 

That thunderstorm I'd walked through for miles? Still going on. I can handle a little more wet though. What sucked was getting back to my truck to find out I'd left my windows down. Sub perfect right there.