The first trip of this month was a load that I pulled out of Council Bluffs, IA destined for Havre de Grace, MD.  The trip was mostly uneventful and I delivered on time, without problems.

It took several hours for dispatch to find another load so I drove back to the service plaza where I'd spent the previous night.  Freight has been so incredibly slow lately.... That usually isn't a problem for me because I am a salaried driver, but it has been lately and I still don't like all the down time, salaried or not.

I was going to load in Remington, VA and it was obvious they were scraping the bottom of the barrel for loads.  The new load had 3 drops and a final on it.  The first drop was to come off in Syracuse, NY the next morning, the next one went to Twinsburg, OH and the last two both went to Detroit, MI.  They had too much overall time but had been scheduled too close together.

I called the shipper, as usual, to double check on times.  I don't like going into a shipper if they won't have the load ready for a day, but I don't want to be at the back of the line if it is a "First Come, First Served" kind of place.

Service plaza just south of Havre de Grace, MD... I spent the night here -- literally -- right beside the guard rail to the right.  No Parking signs were plastered all over but all the trucks ignored them and parked there anyway.  The place was jammed and there was simply nowhere else to go..

From the Washington DC loop... I'm told this is the National Cathedral... All I can say is that it is beautiful.

I like to call to sort of "feel them out."  The shipper said I had several hours to spare but that they should be able to load me almost immediately after I got there.  I had about 125 miles to drive to get there so I had some lunch, goofed off a bit and drove on in.  I figured that would kill the "several hours" they said they needed.

Why do they always do this?  After arriving at the shipper, I was indeed immediately put in the dock door but was not loaded for hours.  The first drop was scheduled for early the next morning approx 425 miles away in Syracuse, NY but they hadn't begun to think about loading me yet.  Damn, if that isn't irritating.  It should be illegal to make unloading appointments before the shipper ever loads the load in the first place.

By late afternoon I admit I was getting absolutely irked.  I'd been there for 4? hours and I had a nearly 8 hour drive.  The last thing I wanted to do was have to run all night.  Why should I kill myself because the shipper is too inefficient to properly do his job?  Another couple of hours went by.  I got the phone number to the Syracuse drop and called them.  I said I had a morning appointment but that the shipper couldn't be bothered to ship and did I have any leeway on the appointment time?  The receiver was very nice and said he would take the delivery as long as I wasn't any later than 11:00 AM Eastern time.  If I couldn't make that, I would have to wait until Monday morning.  (I was loading on a Friday.)  No way was I sitting in New York State for a weekend.   The receiver had a recorded line for directions so I got those down, too.

Finally, finally, finally, as it was getting dark outside, I was loaded and leaving Remington, VA.  I made good time and stayed with it but had decided that I was going to take advantage of what the receiver had said and that I'd deliver it around 10:00 AM, rather than at 7:30 AM.  

I was only about 50 miles away when I noticed 4 trucks exiting the interstate at the same ramp, all turning the same direction.  They were all different companies and it struck me as weird because it was some back road highway -- not a truck route or commonly traveled route for trucks.  A red flag went up but I was tired and I ignored it.

Just a few more miles up the road, it was instantly obvious why the trucks had bailed the interstate.  The rest area had been turned into an inspection station and they were churning out some mega business.  Oh yeah, the state cops, the DOT, everyone was there.  Naturally I hadn't done my logbook because I was trying to hurry.  I'd used my "spare" time snoozing.

I got the full inspection and thankfully, luckily, I got a warning citation for the logbook.  The more immediate problem now was that I had only a margin of error for time of about 15 minutes.  One wrong turn would do me in.  I admit I started to sweat thinking about being stuck in Syracuse for a weekend.  I'm sure it is a happenin' town and all, but I don't know a soul there.   

I followed the directions to the T but after making a turn or two I got that sinking in the gut feeling that a person is usually best to heed.  I just knew that something wasn't right.  I stopped the truck on the side of the road and called the receiver on the cell phone.  (The cell phone must be one of the absolute best things to happen to trucking, ever.)  I had 10 minutes to spare.  I told them that I'd gotten the directions from the recorded line but that they didn't jive.  The guy who I talked to said something cute like, "Yeah the girl that recorded those directions got fired and no one thought to change them.  Maybe that's why she got the ax."  He, he.  Just tell me how to get there, already, bud.  He did and I went and all of that stress was thrown by the wayside because they unloaded me like they were supposed to and all of that.

They were fast to unload and afterward I pulled the truck out of the dock and into the parking lot and took a nap.  The next drop would come off the next day in Twinsburg, OH.

After my little siesta, I got moving and headed towards Ohio.  I stopped somewhere along I-90 in Ohio to eat, shower and sleep.  The Twinsburg drop came off okay and I was moving towards Detroit, MI.

I pulled into my first Detroit drop around lunchtime.  I was slightly less than thrilled to be delivering in the 'hood.  No offense to anyone who lives in any hood, anywhere, but this is not my idea of a good time.  When you look around and practically all the store windows are boarded up and people are out cruising their pimpmobiles and walking the streets, you just gotta wonder what you've gotten yourself into and just how you're going to get yourself out of it, too.  At least the people who live there have a definite advantage -- they know their own neighborhood.  As for me, I'm a stranger in a bad place with a vehicle that is completely at odds with its surroundings.

After leaving the receiver in Syracuse, NY, this little family crossed the road in front of me and I had to hit the brakes fast and hard to avoid them.  You just never know in what form the hazards will come!

I got checked in with the scuzzy hole where I was to deliver to and was told that I should stay on the street with my four ways on and they'd be out to get me within half an hour.  Forty five minutes went by without anything so I went back inside.  They started giving me some cock n bull story about them not ordering what I'd brought.  I didn't know what kind of bull they were up to, but I wasn't having any of it.  I had a second Detroit delivery to make and time was getting very thin.  The other delivery said I had to be there by 3:00 or they wouldn't accept until Monday.  Damn that was sounding familiar lately.

It was nearly 2:00 PM and I have to admit, I was feeling my oats.  I rarely act up with shippers or receivers because it is rarely the wisest course, but with these people, it was what was needed.  I made a total pain in the butt of myself.  I planted myself on the dock and pestered and persisted until they finally got the forklift moving towards the trailer.  They unloaded me in the street.  By the time we were done I had 15 minutes to get to the last drop.  Oh the stress this trip. 

As it turned out, the last drop was more or less around the corner.  For what it is worth (not much) I'll also say that these were some narrow, tight corners, too.  Getting around in the 'hood is a chore and then some.

At the drop the receiver made me drive around the block from where he'd directed me to go in the first place and we ended up almost right at the drop I'd just come from.  What can you do at times like this but shake your head and wish you were someone else for awhile.

Naturally by the time I was empty it was rush hour.  Luckily, though, one of the guys at the last drop warned me that I wouldn't be able to get back to the freeway the same way I'd come in.  He told me how other drivers managed to get turned around and saved me some grief.  I had to take I-75 southbound for an exit and turn around to get going north because the ramp from where I was was too narrow and curved back.

My next load would come out of Paw Paw, MI but wouldn't load until the next afternoon (Sat).  I made it to Dexter, MI and took the rest of the day off.

Trucks & Cowpaths Don't Mix

As usual, the load coming out of Paw Paw required a very long wait, as this company does nothing in a hurry. This load would take me home so the long wait seemed endless.  This load had two drops on it, both in Lincoln, NE, and the first one was to deliver on Monday at 4:00 AM.

After finally getting my paperwork and load, I left the facility around 12:30 AM Sunday. It was pitch black night and pounding rain. The warehouse sits a couple of miles south of the interstate. I was approaching the westbound I-94 on-ramp when I did something stupid. I missed it. Come to find out, there is a road that runs immediately in front of and parallel to the on-ramp. Upon turning onto the road, the first sign you see is "Dead End." Oh man, I thought, look what I have done now. I chastised myself relentlessly but the simple truth was that it was pounding rain, the road wasn't marked well and you couldn't see a few feet in front of your face, much less around the corner. The biggest reason that I shouldn't have made this mistake, though, was that I have been here before - plenty of times - and I should've known better.

Oh well, shoulda, woulda, coulda never did anyone any good. After the rock in my gut sunk completely, I crept forward a few feet. There was a building off to my left that appeared to have a fairly wide driveway. The road I was on was pretty narrow, but I thought that I could do a sort of "three point turnaround" using the drive ahead. (Though in reality, it likely would have been more than three points, I will admit.) There were quite a few cars in the parking lot, though the lot itself wouldn't work for turning around because it was too full of cars and was landscaped with those annoying grass islands. I was moving slowly forward, checking the whole thing out when I caught what the sign said at the front of the property. The sign announced that this was the Michigan State Patrol. I decided that tying up the state cops' driveway trying to turn myself around might not be the wisest course of action. It would have been only fairly difficult if it had not been raining, but as it was the mirrors were useless; the mirror heat couldn't begin to keep up with the pouring rain. I ditched Option A and tried to figure out what Option B might be.

Option B, as I saw it, was backing off of this road and onto the road I had just (mistakenly) left. I gave this only a little bit of consideration before I ditched it, too. Again, it might have been pretty do-able if I could see, but since I could not, it wasn't worth much.

Option C was the one I choose for the immediate future and it consisted of doing nothing until the rain stopped. This was a poor option because this load did not have any extra time and waiting until the rain stopped or for daylight was pretty impractical. None the less, it was more practical than putting the truck in the ditch or having some motorist hit me trying to back onto a highway. So I sat.

It wasn't long, and I knew it wouldn't be, until a State Trooper pulled up beside me. I tried to force a pathetic look on my face.... Actually I didn't have to force it, it was coming quite naturally at this point. He asked if I would like to get out of there and I said yes. He said to follow him. He continued on the skinny road we were on for about 1/4 mile. He then made a right turn onto a cowpath. Oh Man, I thought, surely this fella knows what he's doing?

He continued on the cowpath for about 200 feet and stopped. I made the swing, which surprised me no end, and got the truck and trailer straight and directly in the middle of the road. The road was an farmer's mud/gravel farm road, and had a very high crown. I didn't want to slide off or sink. I sat there for a moment wondering what the cop wanted me to do. When he continued to sit there, I walked up to his car and asked him. He thought that I would be able to back to the left and onto the skinny road. I didn't mean to, but I laughed and said something about that not being possible in this lifetime. I didn't mean to be sarcastic, but any driver could readily see that this fella had done what so many do: he had seriously underestimated how much room it takes to maneuver a truck and trailer. You just don't do a 90 degree back from a 10 foot road to a 12 foot road in the rain at night when both sides have deep ditches.  At least I don't.

He said okay and told me to get in the car - we'd drive up the cowpath and see what other possibilities there might be. There was a large pasture to the west but the rain had completely saturated the ground and I would probably sink if I drove into it. I was grossing around 79,000 lbs. We dead ended at a farmer's home. The drive way was pretty big. It looked as though I could swing left into the drive, pull up and crank it back hard, hard left and then right to become almost straight. I could then back up all the way to the barn, watching out for some overhead equipment, a water tank and of course the barn itself. A flood light lit the place up some and although it helped, I was totally blind. The mirrors were useless. I maneuvered around for a bit, wondering when the farmer would come out and ask what the hell was going on in his yard. He never did come outside.

After a short while the officer donned a rain coat and helped me at the back. I was getting out constantly because I couldn't see anything and he apparently noticed my difficulties. Once I got into the position to attempt the left turn back onto the cowpath, there was but one problem left. The farmer's mailbox was going to be close, very close. Every time I tried to put the tractor a bit farther to the right to miss the mailbox, the drives would get stuck and spin. The differential didn't help. Eventually I just had to grit my teeth and power through it. I missed the mailbox by what seemed only an 1/8th of an inch. I heard the officer hollering back there - he thought I was going to hit it - but I didn't think I was going to and if I slowed, I would have to once again stop, back up and try it yet again. After clearing the mailbox I got out and made sure, but other than a nice deep new rut in the farmer's yard caused by the trailer tandems, I hadn't done any damage. I am sorry about the rut, Mr. Farmer.

I would like to thank the State Patrol Officer for his help. He may have underestimated the turning space needed, but he was professional and understanding about the whole thing. He could've really made me feel like an idiot, but he did not. He probably could've ticketed me and checked my logbook and all of that but he did not. He was helpful and kind and I truly, deeply appreciate that. What I appreciate most, however, is the simple fact that he got me the #%$* out of there!

So, my friend, the next time (or the first time) you do something dumb, think of this story. You should feel at least a little better because it is hard to pull a stupider one than this.  By the time I got out of there I was soaked to the skin and furious. I made it over to Minooka, IL and slept a deep, dreamless sleep. 

After I woke up Sunday morning I got something to eat, got cleaned up and spent the day driving to Lincoln, NE.  I pulled into the receiver's lot later that night and slept until they came pounding on the door at 4:00 AM.  I was out of there around 8:00 AM but still had the final drop to make on the other side of town.  The second drop took another 6 hours.  I was thrilled to death to be given the worst dock door they had, too.  (See red arrow.)

I'd been hoping I'd be able to just deadhead to Council Bluffs, IA and go home, but I had to first go to Norfolk, NE to drop and hook a load that my partner would take on.  I pulled into the yard sometime in the evening and put an end to a fairly high level stress week.

The following trip out took me to Syracuse, NY to deliver.  The load came off pretty fast and I went to Avon, NY to reload.  My new load went to Tomah, WI.

"Let Them Eat Cake"

This job does sometimes have fringe benefits of no other.  Another driver waiting to unload at the same place (Tomah, WI) asked me if I liked chocolate cake.  I said that yes, I most certainly did.  I am an incurable sweet tooth.  She said that she'd had a pallet of cakes rejected at her last stop because the boxes had fallen against the trailer wall and many of them had been damaged. (The boxes, not the cakes.)  These were 1/4 sheet triple chocolate cakes, frosted with chocolate and vanilla frosting, each in their own plastic containers. 

The driver had about 15 cases (4 cakes per case) but after asking each waiting driver if they'd like to have some, she got rid of nearly all of them.  She said she didn't even like cake.  It was almost like Christmas, the drivers so tickled about their good fortune and there wasn't a single driver who turned the cake offer down.  It reminded me of kids at Christmas, seeing those drivers toting their portion of cakes back to their trucks, smiles on their faces.  I know I was as tickled as any of them.  I managed to get all of my cakes home by throwing them in with my next load, which was thankfully a frozen load.

After emptying out in Tomah, WI, I went to Plover, WI to drop and hook.  The load went to Denver, CO, but I took it only as far as Council Bluffs, IA.  Another work week done.

Council Bluffs, IA to Syracuse, NY to Avon, NY to Tomah, WI to

Plover, WI and back to Council Bluffs, IA

Running I-94 through downtown Chicago, IL.