Happy New Year, Everyone!
I wanted to let you all know that this blog is a FINITE entity. Once I run out of bullshit, that's it!
Fortunately, I haven't run out - not by a longshot! So, let's continue...
From Afton, Wyoming, we deadheaded back to Denver. I remember Manny taking a picture of me standing by the truck, wearing red sweatpants and my old limo jacket (both of which I still own). He later printed the picture out, and I still have it lying around somewhere. I look very cold; after all, it did snow the night before. This is late MAY we're talking about. When we arrived in Denver, I think we picked up a 58' trailer (you're allowed to pull 58-footers in some western states, I'm not sure which). Then we headed back south, and wound up in Laredo, Texas. We may have actually gone into Mexico. I think we did, because I remember being stopped by the border patrol on the way back into the USA, and Manny having to show his passport and green card, etc. I proudly produced my new CDL, and we proceeded on our merry
way. We drove up around San Antonio, and headed east towards Houston. We had a couple of stops in the Houston/Beaumont area I recall, and Manny and I joked around about this waitress at a Denny's in Beaumont. She was "do-able," and we joked whether or not to go back and hit on her. But, both of us being married, it was just a joke.
Manny was due some home time (I think he was out for three weeks, off one) so we started towards Pascagoula, MS. The temptation to stop in New Orleans was great, but Manny was anxious to see the wife, so we bypassed the Big Easy. The Gulf Coast Highway (US 90) runs through Gulfport and Biloxi; really beautiful down there. I was amazed at how many casinos were down there (at the time). Manny lived outside Pascagoula, in Ocean Springs or Gautier,
I'm not sure which. We arrived about dinner time, and Manny's wife, a sweet lady of Carribean
descent, had prepared a "mess of vittles" for us. I mean, steak and sausage and all kind of yummy "man food." We sat around, ate, and joked till it got dark. The plan was to stay there the first night, then ship me off to the motel (which the company paid for) the next day. I felt guilty
about being there, interrupting their "reunion," so I volunteered to go sleep in the truck, which I did. I mean, this was an unusual couple to begin with (a German citizen married to an African-Carribean), and hearing them making love was a little more than I cared to experience.
It was hot down there, and I spent most of my time in the motel room, watching TV. When the sun went down, I'd go for a stroll; there were some fast food/convenience mart places about a mile down the road, and that's where I would venture, sweat dripping off me and all. After two night of mind-numbing television, Manny called and asked if I wanted to go to one of the casinos nearby. His wife worked there, and it was her night to work, so we dropped by. We mainly watched, as all the desperate people squander their life savings in hope of some "luck." I swear I saw some guy signing the title to his car or house at the cashier's desk. I dunno, maybe I imagined it. But you see the same thing at all casinos: the old lady at the slot machine, cigarette
in hand, pulling the one-armed bandit for all she's worth, the dealers, the tourists, etc. We
weren't having any luck at the first place, so we went to the Treasure Bay Casino (I remember, because I still have the coin cup from there). Because of Katrina, I don't think it's there any more, but I actually won $20 at the quarters slots. I was sooo excited! Of course I gave half of it back, but that was the first time I'd won anything in a long time, so it was fun. Now I think a lot about Manny and his wife and how they survived Katrina. I gave up on calling him long ago, for fear of waking him, or bothering him some other way. I hope they made it.
Soon it was time to go back on the road. I'd been begging Manny to take me home. There were
two options for trainees: one, stay out for four weeks, then you could go home for two, I think, or two, just stay out for eight weeks straight. I chose option one, and Manny delivered me almost right to my front door. He was twisting my arm to stay, because then he'd have to go get another trainee, and I'd have to get another trainer. But I was soo homesick, and my old lady was not happy about the whole situtation. And guess what? I never went back...
More in 2007,
Steve
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Sunday, December 24, 2006
First Job, pt. 2
Hello! First of all, I would like to wish everyone out there a very happy and healthy holiday season! It's early on Christmas Eve Day, and me and the family unit have a mellow Christmas
planned this year. Probably go to church later today, followed by dinner out (all after the Bears game, though - GO BEARS!) Tomorrow, the wife and I will watch our daughter open her presents, then it's off to Rockford to spend some time with my bro and his kids, and have Christmas dinner. That's about it...
Back to my story. I learned a lot from my trainer Manny (again, not his real name), mainly about driving out on the open road. I didn't do a heck of a lot of backing/docking, because we
were invariably in a rush, and had to get the load in/out. So Manny would do most of the
skill maneuvers, and I'd watch. He'd admit later that I should have spent more time on these
tasks, but, like I said, the work came first.
I do remember driving in heavy traffic in places like Washington D.C. (rush hour on the beltway in pouring rain) and Atlanta. I drove 8-hours from Atlanta, to Savannah, GA without so much as
a pee break (pretty proud of that feat). We went all over the place; down across the southeast,
over through Texas, then up into New Mexico and into Colorado. Manny was dying for a dispatch west out to Cali., but it never came. Instead, we spent some down time in Denver, at the company terminal waiting for our next load. See, OTR drivers sometimes have to wait (at least back then) as much as 72 hours for the next load to come available. During this time, you catch up on your laundry, correspondence, watch a LOT of TV, stock up on supplies, etc. So then
we get a crazy dispatch to Wyoming. This was a load of beans or something (I'm not really sure, all I know is they were big bags of stuff on pallets), headed out to Afton, WY, a little town about an hour south of Jackson Hole. As we left Denver, I remember it was sunny and pleasant outside. I also remember crossing the border to Wyoming (it was night by this time) and coming down into the valley and passing through Cheyenne (pretty town at night, as I recall). We drove through the night and into the next day to get to the western part of the state. Now, I come from the "Windy City," but let me tell you, I have never experienced wind like there was in
Wyoming. Unbelievable!
As we approached our exit (US 30 west to US 89 north), we were headed back into the Rockies,
at least the foothills. You kind of wind around, up and down, veer into Idaho for a couple miles,
then start climbing the hills, which, of course, is when it starts snowing. And now it's getting dark, too. So it was pretty damn treacherous. Manny was doing most of the driving at this point, and I remember getting bogged down as we were coming down the mountainside, heading into Afton. We pulled over to the side of the road and shut down for the night, as the road had become practically impassable. I remember hearing the scraping sounds of ploughs several times during the night, and me turning the truck back on, because I was freezing! See, the company pays you a bonus for fuel conservation, so Manny had shut the truck completely off.
The next sound I heard was the Screaming Meanie (must have been 6 or 7am). Manny was
the most sound sleeper I've ever seen, so even the alarm wouldn't wake him up right away. Me,
I shot out of the bunk like a cannon.
Anyway, we made our delivery successfully, but then had to wait again for another load. Afton is a quaint little western town (I remember a gateway over the main street made entirely of horns of some kind: elk? antelope? I dunno), but after our ordeal in getting there, I was anxious to get the hell out. We stayed for a few hours, then finally the dispatcher said, "No loads nearby (really?), just come back to Denver. So, we dead-headed back to Denver.
Next, the final chapter of my first job.
More soon (Happy Holidays!),
Steve
planned this year. Probably go to church later today, followed by dinner out (all after the Bears game, though - GO BEARS!) Tomorrow, the wife and I will watch our daughter open her presents, then it's off to Rockford to spend some time with my bro and his kids, and have Christmas dinner. That's about it...
Back to my story. I learned a lot from my trainer Manny (again, not his real name), mainly about driving out on the open road. I didn't do a heck of a lot of backing/docking, because we
were invariably in a rush, and had to get the load in/out. So Manny would do most of the
skill maneuvers, and I'd watch. He'd admit later that I should have spent more time on these
tasks, but, like I said, the work came first.
I do remember driving in heavy traffic in places like Washington D.C. (rush hour on the beltway in pouring rain) and Atlanta. I drove 8-hours from Atlanta, to Savannah, GA without so much as
a pee break (pretty proud of that feat). We went all over the place; down across the southeast,
over through Texas, then up into New Mexico and into Colorado. Manny was dying for a dispatch west out to Cali., but it never came. Instead, we spent some down time in Denver, at the company terminal waiting for our next load. See, OTR drivers sometimes have to wait (at least back then) as much as 72 hours for the next load to come available. During this time, you catch up on your laundry, correspondence, watch a LOT of TV, stock up on supplies, etc. So then
we get a crazy dispatch to Wyoming. This was a load of beans or something (I'm not really sure, all I know is they were big bags of stuff on pallets), headed out to Afton, WY, a little town about an hour south of Jackson Hole. As we left Denver, I remember it was sunny and pleasant outside. I also remember crossing the border to Wyoming (it was night by this time) and coming down into the valley and passing through Cheyenne (pretty town at night, as I recall). We drove through the night and into the next day to get to the western part of the state. Now, I come from the "Windy City," but let me tell you, I have never experienced wind like there was in
Wyoming. Unbelievable!
As we approached our exit (US 30 west to US 89 north), we were headed back into the Rockies,
at least the foothills. You kind of wind around, up and down, veer into Idaho for a couple miles,
then start climbing the hills, which, of course, is when it starts snowing. And now it's getting dark, too. So it was pretty damn treacherous. Manny was doing most of the driving at this point, and I remember getting bogged down as we were coming down the mountainside, heading into Afton. We pulled over to the side of the road and shut down for the night, as the road had become practically impassable. I remember hearing the scraping sounds of ploughs several times during the night, and me turning the truck back on, because I was freezing! See, the company pays you a bonus for fuel conservation, so Manny had shut the truck completely off.
The next sound I heard was the Screaming Meanie (must have been 6 or 7am). Manny was
the most sound sleeper I've ever seen, so even the alarm wouldn't wake him up right away. Me,
I shot out of the bunk like a cannon.
Anyway, we made our delivery successfully, but then had to wait again for another load. Afton is a quaint little western town (I remember a gateway over the main street made entirely of horns of some kind: elk? antelope? I dunno), but after our ordeal in getting there, I was anxious to get the hell out. We stayed for a few hours, then finally the dispatcher said, "No loads nearby (really?), just come back to Denver. So, we dead-headed back to Denver.
Next, the final chapter of my first job.
More soon (Happy Holidays!),
Steve
Saturday, December 16, 2006
First Job
Hello! Just a quick note: these postings will probably be a bit more scattered, with the holiday season upon us - sorry, just too much other stuff going on right now.
So, I have just gone and got my CDL from the State - and I'm ready to roll! I, like many of my classmates, was recruited right from my class by many top over-the-road companies. They actually "pre-hire" students, providing they pass all the required tests, etc. I weighed the pros and cons of each outfit (one was based in LaSalle-Peru, IL, I think, about an hour and a half drive each way) and went with one of the larger, more reputable companies: I won't say the name here (hint: light blue trucks and trailers). They sent me down to Indianapolis (they mail you a one-way bus ticket, but I had to travel downtown to the Greyhound station - yikes!) for
a mandatory 2-day orientation. There were other students, as well as experienced drivers, even on the same bus as me! Wow!
Indy seems like a pretty nice town (had never been there before - or since, can't remember).
You stand around waiting for everyone to get their shit off the buses, then a big van comes around and takes you to a motel room. All I really remember is that it was a nice day, and driving past the RCA Dome. You get to the motel, maybe unpack a little (2 guys to a room,
I remember my roommate was an experienced driver from downstate IL - don't remember any women, though), then it's off to class. Basically they explained all the different policies,
company structure, etc., blah, blah, blah. We newbies had to wait around for a trainer to come through town, and they said they were about a week behind with the trainers, which meant, you guessed it; sitting around a motel room for a week, watching TV! Thrilling! Guys who were experienced drivers already could simply do a road test and, bam! be on the road. Incidentally,
my roommate failed his road test, so they sent him home (not real sure what happenened, all I know is the guy was PISSED!)
As it turned out, my second night there I get a phone call at 2:00 am. "Are you ready?" came a
foreign voice over the line. "Ready for what?" I thought, "You just woke me up, motherfucker!"
The policy was that you had to be ready to roll WHENEVER the trainer called, no matter what time of night or day, otherwise you were fired, no exceptions. "Yeah, yeah give me a minute."
The guy said he'd meet me in five minutes outside, which gave me just enough time to get dressed, pack my stuff, and run out the door. The guy was really a foreigner, a German dude named Manfred Wilhoffen (not his REAL name - c'mon!). So, we took off, headed eastbound.
We were going to Cumberland, MD to drop off a load, then, who knows? Manny and I got to
know each other a little bit (we were both smokers - something the company tried to accommodate for, but not always), and I found out he had been in this country for four years, a driver for two, and a trainer for one. But, I'm getting a little ahead of myself; I found out the reason I didn't have to wait a week in the motel was because the guy in front of me on the list had broken his glasses, and had to wait to get a new pair shipped to him, or something like that.
Lucky, me! I guess. Actually, I could have fared worse: it turned out that Manny was a very patient and understanding guy (younger than me), so he allowed me to make mistakes, and learn from them. This was my first experience driving a true "big rig," and, I realized later, the first (but not last) time I had to learn to drive a Super 10 transmission. For those of you who don't know, or aren't current or former truck drivers, a Super 10 transmission is like a 10-speed, except you are splitting the gears every second shift; it's tough to explain, and kind of tricky to master (in later years, at my current job, I had to drive one, and had forgot, so I had to re-learn the whole thing as I went along). I remember the first time I drove was on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, which is not the ideal road to have your first driving experience: very hilly, up and down kind of stuff, but I didn't do too terribly. We brought the load in on time, and I remember, for some reason, we went to Famous Dave's for lunch at a nearby shopping district
right afterwards.
See, I was part of what is called a "training team," you see them all the time - the trainer is actually the "working" member: he/she is responsible for the delivery, route planning, etc., so he/she gets paid for all the miles. The "trainee," drives a smaller part of the time (usually the middle, open highway part of the run), and gets paid a weekly chump change, er, salary. I think I made $350/week, which was ok, but, if I remember correctly, I didn't have direct deposit set up correctly, so they were sending the checks to my house. That did me no good, because my wife couldn't deposit them. I dunno, it was kind of screwed up - I think it took a while to get the direct deposit thing going. Meantime, I'm out in the middle of who knows where, trying to get money out of an ATM, or else getting an advance from the company in the form of a Comchek (financial/banking service used by truckers/truckstops nationwide). You could request an advance over your Qualcomm (I'll talk more about this stuff in future postings.)
More soon,
Steve
So, I have just gone and got my CDL from the State - and I'm ready to roll! I, like many of my classmates, was recruited right from my class by many top over-the-road companies. They actually "pre-hire" students, providing they pass all the required tests, etc. I weighed the pros and cons of each outfit (one was based in LaSalle-Peru, IL, I think, about an hour and a half drive each way) and went with one of the larger, more reputable companies: I won't say the name here (hint: light blue trucks and trailers). They sent me down to Indianapolis (they mail you a one-way bus ticket, but I had to travel downtown to the Greyhound station - yikes!) for
a mandatory 2-day orientation. There were other students, as well as experienced drivers, even on the same bus as me! Wow!
Indy seems like a pretty nice town (had never been there before - or since, can't remember).
You stand around waiting for everyone to get their shit off the buses, then a big van comes around and takes you to a motel room. All I really remember is that it was a nice day, and driving past the RCA Dome. You get to the motel, maybe unpack a little (2 guys to a room,
I remember my roommate was an experienced driver from downstate IL - don't remember any women, though), then it's off to class. Basically they explained all the different policies,
company structure, etc., blah, blah, blah. We newbies had to wait around for a trainer to come through town, and they said they were about a week behind with the trainers, which meant, you guessed it; sitting around a motel room for a week, watching TV! Thrilling! Guys who were experienced drivers already could simply do a road test and, bam! be on the road. Incidentally,
my roommate failed his road test, so they sent him home (not real sure what happenened, all I know is the guy was PISSED!)
As it turned out, my second night there I get a phone call at 2:00 am. "Are you ready?" came a
foreign voice over the line. "Ready for what?" I thought, "You just woke me up, motherfucker!"
The policy was that you had to be ready to roll WHENEVER the trainer called, no matter what time of night or day, otherwise you were fired, no exceptions. "Yeah, yeah give me a minute."
The guy said he'd meet me in five minutes outside, which gave me just enough time to get dressed, pack my stuff, and run out the door. The guy was really a foreigner, a German dude named Manfred Wilhoffen (not his REAL name - c'mon!). So, we took off, headed eastbound.
We were going to Cumberland, MD to drop off a load, then, who knows? Manny and I got to
know each other a little bit (we were both smokers - something the company tried to accommodate for, but not always), and I found out he had been in this country for four years, a driver for two, and a trainer for one. But, I'm getting a little ahead of myself; I found out the reason I didn't have to wait a week in the motel was because the guy in front of me on the list had broken his glasses, and had to wait to get a new pair shipped to him, or something like that.
Lucky, me! I guess. Actually, I could have fared worse: it turned out that Manny was a very patient and understanding guy (younger than me), so he allowed me to make mistakes, and learn from them. This was my first experience driving a true "big rig," and, I realized later, the first (but not last) time I had to learn to drive a Super 10 transmission. For those of you who don't know, or aren't current or former truck drivers, a Super 10 transmission is like a 10-speed, except you are splitting the gears every second shift; it's tough to explain, and kind of tricky to master (in later years, at my current job, I had to drive one, and had forgot, so I had to re-learn the whole thing as I went along). I remember the first time I drove was on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, which is not the ideal road to have your first driving experience: very hilly, up and down kind of stuff, but I didn't do too terribly. We brought the load in on time, and I remember, for some reason, we went to Famous Dave's for lunch at a nearby shopping district
right afterwards.
See, I was part of what is called a "training team," you see them all the time - the trainer is actually the "working" member: he/she is responsible for the delivery, route planning, etc., so he/she gets paid for all the miles. The "trainee," drives a smaller part of the time (usually the middle, open highway part of the run), and gets paid a weekly chump change, er, salary. I think I made $350/week, which was ok, but, if I remember correctly, I didn't have direct deposit set up correctly, so they were sending the checks to my house. That did me no good, because my wife couldn't deposit them. I dunno, it was kind of screwed up - I think it took a while to get the direct deposit thing going. Meantime, I'm out in the middle of who knows where, trying to get money out of an ATM, or else getting an advance from the company in the form of a Comchek (financial/banking service used by truckers/truckstops nationwide). You could request an advance over your Qualcomm (I'll talk more about this stuff in future postings.)
More soon,
Steve
Saturday, December 9, 2006
Test Day
"Anyone who drives slower than you is a MORON, anyone who drives faster than you is a MANIAC!" - George Carlin
Throughout this blog, I'll be quoting many of my favorite expressions from popluar culture (movies, music, comedy, etc.) Of course, I will always give credit where it is due (don't want any lawsuits)
O.K., where was I? Ah, yes, test day. A very nervous time for us all. Actually, it was a beautiful day in April, as I recall. The sun was out, all the snow was either melted off or melting, and we were experiencing daylight for the first time in months (Ah, springtime!) Like I mentioned before, all we had to do was show up at our school, since the test was to be taken right there.
The CDL test in Illinois (can't speak for other states, but they're probably the same) is comprised of three parts: the pre-trip inspection, the skills (backing & maneuvering), and the road test. Of the three, the pre-trip was the one most of us worried about. There is so much information you must digest and memorize, it's mind-boggling. Of course, you memorize it in a
particular order, then the testers come and switch everything around, just to make sure you know it. To make matters worse, they had an inspector known as "the Terminator," who made you check everything (I mean EVERYTHING) with a fine-tooth comb. One mistake, you're done. We heard the rumors about this guy, and just prayed he wasn't coming on our test day. No such luck. Sure enough, there he was. One of our instructors came over and whispered,"There he is, the Terminator". He didn't look scary at all. I was expecting a Schwartzenegger-type badass, but instead stood a mild-mannered African-American man, probably mid-thirties, glasses, seemed harmless enough. Well, I was lucky enough not to draw him, but I watched in dismay as he grilled one of my classmateswalking around the truck. Surprisingly, though, he passed the guy (the student was our top guy in class, and would have passed even IF Schwartzenegger had been the tester.
I drew an older (50's) white gentleman, rotund, with a raspy voice, and combed-back salt-and-pepper hair. I was nervous as hell, and forgot something simple, having to do with airing down the brakes, or releasing the brakes at some point. The guy failed me! Shit! He said, "I gave you three chances..." So, I walked away, looking at the ground, feeling like a failure. I had to explain what happened to my classmates and instructors, who were asking. I was one of the better students, but something simple, taken out of sequence, f'ed me up. Meanwhile, I think the Terminator had failed several of us already, so I didn't feel quite so bad. They made us failures wait around until everyone had completed all three parts of their tests. Naturally, if you fail your pre-trip, you can't move on to the skills, etc. You must wait a week (or two?) to re-take your pre-trip (another week of memorizing, worrying, etc.) I remember the head instructor
came up to me and said, "Think of those air brake knobs as tits - PUSH 'EM IN!"
So, the next time, I got a different tester, a younger white dude, and he grilled me pretty good, but I passed the pre-trip with flying colors, as I also did with the skills test. They set up the orange cones, just as they had them set up when we practiced (the instructors always told us,"Think of the cones as people - hit one, and you've killed somebody."). You must do a series of pulling foreward, stopping, straight-backing, and the dreaded 45-degree backing. Looking back, it seems almost comical now. I mean I've done everything from straight to 90-degree backing, blindside, you name it, but back then it was a big deal. On the skills portion of the test, you start out with 12 points (I think). They deduct points for pulling up too far or too short, etc.
But you still cannot hit a cone, or you're done. You have to get 8 out of 12 - I think I finished
with a 9 or 10. And, of course, there were those students who failed at this part of the test as well (nervous Nellies).
The final portion of my test was the road test. No problem, I figured, right? Well, I climb up into the truck (the same one I've been training on for the past few weeks) and who is sitting there? You guessed it. No, not the Terminator (that would have been very ironic), but the same dude that failed me on the pre-trip! Someone had mentioned that today was his birthday (use it!).
He didn't remember me from before - I mean, these guys must test hundreds of students every week. So, we got started. I considered myself pretty good, in the middle of the pack (class). And I tested fairly well. My only mistake was taking the truck out of gear as I approached a stop light, and coasting to a halt. A big no-no, although now, as a professional truck driver, I do it all the time. That's what I tell my daughter about getting your drivers license (she'll be ready in about a year): "Do everything they tell you to do until you get your license, then you can do whatever you want (within reason)." Anyway, I thought I had failed again; the guy didn't say anything, but I worried like hell till we got back and I parked the truck. All he said was "Congratulations" I said "Thank you, and Happy Birthday!", took my certificate and bailed out of that truck as fast as I could. I never knew (or cared) whether he noticed my screw-up, I just figured he was in a good mood since it was his birthday. In fact, I think he passed everyone who rode with him that day. I was walking on a fucking cloud, I was so relieved. "Yes! Yes, motherfucker, yes!" Now off to the Secretary of State's to make it official...
More soon,
Steve
Throughout this blog, I'll be quoting many of my favorite expressions from popluar culture (movies, music, comedy, etc.) Of course, I will always give credit where it is due (don't want any lawsuits)
O.K., where was I? Ah, yes, test day. A very nervous time for us all. Actually, it was a beautiful day in April, as I recall. The sun was out, all the snow was either melted off or melting, and we were experiencing daylight for the first time in months (Ah, springtime!) Like I mentioned before, all we had to do was show up at our school, since the test was to be taken right there.
The CDL test in Illinois (can't speak for other states, but they're probably the same) is comprised of three parts: the pre-trip inspection, the skills (backing & maneuvering), and the road test. Of the three, the pre-trip was the one most of us worried about. There is so much information you must digest and memorize, it's mind-boggling. Of course, you memorize it in a
particular order, then the testers come and switch everything around, just to make sure you know it. To make matters worse, they had an inspector known as "the Terminator," who made you check everything (I mean EVERYTHING) with a fine-tooth comb. One mistake, you're done. We heard the rumors about this guy, and just prayed he wasn't coming on our test day. No such luck. Sure enough, there he was. One of our instructors came over and whispered,"There he is, the Terminator". He didn't look scary at all. I was expecting a Schwartzenegger-type badass, but instead stood a mild-mannered African-American man, probably mid-thirties, glasses, seemed harmless enough. Well, I was lucky enough not to draw him, but I watched in dismay as he grilled one of my classmateswalking around the truck. Surprisingly, though, he passed the guy (the student was our top guy in class, and would have passed even IF Schwartzenegger had been the tester.
I drew an older (50's) white gentleman, rotund, with a raspy voice, and combed-back salt-and-pepper hair. I was nervous as hell, and forgot something simple, having to do with airing down the brakes, or releasing the brakes at some point. The guy failed me! Shit! He said, "I gave you three chances..." So, I walked away, looking at the ground, feeling like a failure. I had to explain what happened to my classmates and instructors, who were asking. I was one of the better students, but something simple, taken out of sequence, f'ed me up. Meanwhile, I think the Terminator had failed several of us already, so I didn't feel quite so bad. They made us failures wait around until everyone had completed all three parts of their tests. Naturally, if you fail your pre-trip, you can't move on to the skills, etc. You must wait a week (or two?) to re-take your pre-trip (another week of memorizing, worrying, etc.) I remember the head instructor
came up to me and said, "Think of those air brake knobs as tits - PUSH 'EM IN!"
So, the next time, I got a different tester, a younger white dude, and he grilled me pretty good, but I passed the pre-trip with flying colors, as I also did with the skills test. They set up the orange cones, just as they had them set up when we practiced (the instructors always told us,"Think of the cones as people - hit one, and you've killed somebody."). You must do a series of pulling foreward, stopping, straight-backing, and the dreaded 45-degree backing. Looking back, it seems almost comical now. I mean I've done everything from straight to 90-degree backing, blindside, you name it, but back then it was a big deal. On the skills portion of the test, you start out with 12 points (I think). They deduct points for pulling up too far or too short, etc.
But you still cannot hit a cone, or you're done. You have to get 8 out of 12 - I think I finished
with a 9 or 10. And, of course, there were those students who failed at this part of the test as well (nervous Nellies).
The final portion of my test was the road test. No problem, I figured, right? Well, I climb up into the truck (the same one I've been training on for the past few weeks) and who is sitting there? You guessed it. No, not the Terminator (that would have been very ironic), but the same dude that failed me on the pre-trip! Someone had mentioned that today was his birthday (use it!).
He didn't remember me from before - I mean, these guys must test hundreds of students every week. So, we got started. I considered myself pretty good, in the middle of the pack (class). And I tested fairly well. My only mistake was taking the truck out of gear as I approached a stop light, and coasting to a halt. A big no-no, although now, as a professional truck driver, I do it all the time. That's what I tell my daughter about getting your drivers license (she'll be ready in about a year): "Do everything they tell you to do until you get your license, then you can do whatever you want (within reason)." Anyway, I thought I had failed again; the guy didn't say anything, but I worried like hell till we got back and I parked the truck. All he said was "Congratulations" I said "Thank you, and Happy Birthday!", took my certificate and bailed out of that truck as fast as I could. I never knew (or cared) whether he noticed my screw-up, I just figured he was in a good mood since it was his birthday. In fact, I think he passed everyone who rode with him that day. I was walking on a fucking cloud, I was so relieved. "Yes! Yes, motherfucker, yes!" Now off to the Secretary of State's to make it official...
More soon,
Steve
Monday, December 4, 2006
From the Beginning
The next several entries will detail how I got started in the business (maybe I should call it "History"). For those of you who are regular readers of this article (Thank You!), I want to say one thing: if you are not a truck driver, these postings might seem a little strange, but "THOSE WHO ARE IN THE KNOW WILL ATTEST!"
I had been driving a limo in Chicago on and off for about five years, full-time and part-time, and bouncing around from one menial job to the next. So, I'd do my telemarketing
full-time, then drive the limo on weekends, or whatever. I actually wrote a book about my experiences, called "Limo Driver," but I never published it. In fact, it's on some old Mac floppy discs lying around somewhere. I was not a happy camper; I really wanted a "career" instead
of just another job: something I was good at. But what? I knew a couple of drivers; in fact, one of my good friends, a fellow limo driver, was a CDL driver, but wasn't active for some unknown reason.
I don't know what actually pushed me over the top in "going for it," but I remember checking out a few different schools. One was in Memphis, for one month, and only cost $2,500.00 (can
you sense the sarcasm?). I finally found a class at a nearby community college, an eight-week
course (part-time evenings) for $3,500.00. Yeah, I was willing to spend the extra grand for the convenience of being near home. Plus, I could work my two other jobs, one during the day, and one on the weekends. So, my brother was nice enough to co-sign a loan for me, and I got it! I was really excited. I would start in Feb., 2002.
CDL classes are very much like getting your regular driver's licence: first, you sit in the classroom for four weeks, learning all the rules of the road, how to fill a log book, read a map, etc. Then you go to the Secretary of State's facility and take your written test. In Illinois, it's all on computer now, but I think I actually had to write answers in. My memory's not too clear on that. Once you have your permit, you can go behind the wheel, as long as there's an instructor in the cab with you. It's interesting how you develop friendships and cameraderie with your classmates. Of course, like any class, you have your brightest (star) pupils, your middle-of-the-road (my group), and your "losers," for lack of a better word. But we encouraged each other
to succeed. I don't know about the others, but I always wanted my classmates to do well.
You don't actually go out into traffic once you have your permit, NO! We could only drive around the parking lot the first couple of weeks or so. "First and reverse," one of our instructors would say; that's fine, because you had to learn backing and maneuvering the truck anyway, for
your road test. So, we had these two old day cabs, and crappy, empty beat-up trailers to practice with. I don't recall how everyone did, but I think I backed the truck up pretty well.
They had cones laid out in the parking lot exactly how they would be on test day. The nice
thing about it was the Secretary of State testers/inspectors would actually come out to our place, rather than us having to go to a strange facility; so the parking lot in which we were practicing was the same place we would be taking our test. This gave us quite an advantage, and
a "leg up" on others who had to go to South Holland for their test.
After "mastering" backing, turning and maneuvering the truck, it's time to go out into the streets. I always wondered if our instructors were as nervous as we were. For this part of the
class, we had a sleeper cab, with 3-4 seats in place of the bunk. I remember there were two
International Pro Sleepers with standard 10-speed transmissions. Getting the shifting down was
probably the biggest challenge, since we weren't allowed to shift in the parking lot, and now it's March, and we were still getting snow now and then, so you're learning how to drive in the dark, and sometimes in treacherous weather conditions. Looking back, this actually helped me enormously, although we generally just went down the street and back. Eventually, they let
us go onto the expressways...
Next - test day
More soon,
Steve
I had been driving a limo in Chicago on and off for about five years, full-time and part-time, and bouncing around from one menial job to the next. So, I'd do my telemarketing
full-time, then drive the limo on weekends, or whatever. I actually wrote a book about my experiences, called "Limo Driver," but I never published it. In fact, it's on some old Mac floppy discs lying around somewhere. I was not a happy camper; I really wanted a "career" instead
of just another job: something I was good at. But what? I knew a couple of drivers; in fact, one of my good friends, a fellow limo driver, was a CDL driver, but wasn't active for some unknown reason.
I don't know what actually pushed me over the top in "going for it," but I remember checking out a few different schools. One was in Memphis, for one month, and only cost $2,500.00 (can
you sense the sarcasm?). I finally found a class at a nearby community college, an eight-week
course (part-time evenings) for $3,500.00. Yeah, I was willing to spend the extra grand for the convenience of being near home. Plus, I could work my two other jobs, one during the day, and one on the weekends. So, my brother was nice enough to co-sign a loan for me, and I got it! I was really excited. I would start in Feb., 2002.
CDL classes are very much like getting your regular driver's licence: first, you sit in the classroom for four weeks, learning all the rules of the road, how to fill a log book, read a map, etc. Then you go to the Secretary of State's facility and take your written test. In Illinois, it's all on computer now, but I think I actually had to write answers in. My memory's not too clear on that. Once you have your permit, you can go behind the wheel, as long as there's an instructor in the cab with you. It's interesting how you develop friendships and cameraderie with your classmates. Of course, like any class, you have your brightest (star) pupils, your middle-of-the-road (my group), and your "losers," for lack of a better word. But we encouraged each other
to succeed. I don't know about the others, but I always wanted my classmates to do well.
You don't actually go out into traffic once you have your permit, NO! We could only drive around the parking lot the first couple of weeks or so. "First and reverse," one of our instructors would say; that's fine, because you had to learn backing and maneuvering the truck anyway, for
your road test. So, we had these two old day cabs, and crappy, empty beat-up trailers to practice with. I don't recall how everyone did, but I think I backed the truck up pretty well.
They had cones laid out in the parking lot exactly how they would be on test day. The nice
thing about it was the Secretary of State testers/inspectors would actually come out to our place, rather than us having to go to a strange facility; so the parking lot in which we were practicing was the same place we would be taking our test. This gave us quite an advantage, and
a "leg up" on others who had to go to South Holland for their test.
After "mastering" backing, turning and maneuvering the truck, it's time to go out into the streets. I always wondered if our instructors were as nervous as we were. For this part of the
class, we had a sleeper cab, with 3-4 seats in place of the bunk. I remember there were two
International Pro Sleepers with standard 10-speed transmissions. Getting the shifting down was
probably the biggest challenge, since we weren't allowed to shift in the parking lot, and now it's March, and we were still getting snow now and then, so you're learning how to drive in the dark, and sometimes in treacherous weather conditions. Looking back, this actually helped me enormously, although we generally just went down the street and back. Eventually, they let
us go onto the expressways...
Next - test day
More soon,
Steve
Friday, December 1, 2006
"Breaker 19"
My experience with CB radios has been pretty limited, so I'm certainly not an authority on the subject. However, I will relate my own personal experiences here. In my current job, we don't really use CB's. The main reason is because we don't have assigned equipment, so I don't know what truck/trailer I'll have from one run to the next. That means, if you want to use your CB, you must install it each time you go out, and take it with you each time you leave (otherwise it will "grow legs"). Some guys do this; it's kind of a pain, the wiring, hooking up to the antenna(e),
etc. But it is a useful tool, especially in winter and times of severe weather and traffic. I have just chosen not to deal with the hassle, and go without it - I really don't need it (CB's are for pussies! LOL).
My first experience was during my first job with a major carrier (I was officially a CDL trainee).
Actually, now that I think about it, my dad bought a new car with a CB radio in it in the late 70's.
It's true. Of course, I'd heard C.W. McCall's "Convoy" in the 70's, and seen some trucker movies,
but still didn't really know how to work the thing. I wrecked that '78 Olds 98 Regency a couple
of weeks after my parents bought it (I nearly bought it). They hadn't even made the first payment on it. So, in perspective, the CB radio wasn't really as remarkable as you would think.
But I digress. My driver-trainer taught me some of the lingo, most of which I've since forgotten.
(e.g., "skateboard" is a flatbed, African-American drivers are referred to as "Canadians" by some, etc.) I don't know if these terms are still in use, since the vernacular seems to be an evolving thing. I actually used the phrase "good buddy," again, recalling "Covoy." BUZZER! Wrong! My trainer said "Don't say Good Buddy! It means you're gay! Oops! Others have shown me other phrases: "Baby doll," is a "Lot lizard" (truckstop prostitute, never seen one), etc. Like I said the CB can be a useful tool, although most of the time it's just guys (and gals) jibber-jabbering about nothing. Makes the time go by, I guess.
The one time it came in handy for me was a year or so ago. I was coming back from Iowa, like usual. Another driver had left his CB in the truck by mistake, so I took advantage and used it, turning it off and on at various times in my trip. It must have been about 5 -5:30 in the morning, and I was eastbound on 80, I was approaching Morris, Illinois, just outside of Joliet, when the radio started crackling with excited voices. "You'd better get off here, eastbound, or you'll be sitting here a while." Apparently, a livestock truck had overturned, and was on its side, blocking both lanes of eastbound traffic. I must have been only about ten minutes behind it, because I could see the brakelights ahead of me. Of course, like a ninny, I didn't exit there (I think it's Illinois 41) and creeped up to where the line of vehicles came to standstill. Fortunately,
listening to the other drivers hollering directions over the radio, I was able to get into the left lane, then boldly make a U-turn on a police-strip on the median, and get back to 41 south to US6 eastbound. For those unlucky bastards who were right behind it, or not paying attention, I guess it turned out to be an all-day proposition. There were rumors of pigs/cows running around all over the highway, which I don't think were true, but I was able to circumvent the
whole situation, just because I had the radio. I hope the driver was ok. You never like to see, or hear about someone rolling a big-rig, although it seems to happen every day. But that is for another chapter...
etc. But it is a useful tool, especially in winter and times of severe weather and traffic. I have just chosen not to deal with the hassle, and go without it - I really don't need it (CB's are for pussies! LOL).
My first experience was during my first job with a major carrier (I was officially a CDL trainee).
Actually, now that I think about it, my dad bought a new car with a CB radio in it in the late 70's.
It's true. Of course, I'd heard C.W. McCall's "Convoy" in the 70's, and seen some trucker movies,
but still didn't really know how to work the thing. I wrecked that '78 Olds 98 Regency a couple
of weeks after my parents bought it (I nearly bought it). They hadn't even made the first payment on it. So, in perspective, the CB radio wasn't really as remarkable as you would think.
But I digress. My driver-trainer taught me some of the lingo, most of which I've since forgotten.
(e.g., "skateboard" is a flatbed, African-American drivers are referred to as "Canadians" by some, etc.) I don't know if these terms are still in use, since the vernacular seems to be an evolving thing. I actually used the phrase "good buddy," again, recalling "Covoy." BUZZER! Wrong! My trainer said "Don't say Good Buddy! It means you're gay! Oops! Others have shown me other phrases: "Baby doll," is a "Lot lizard" (truckstop prostitute, never seen one), etc. Like I said the CB can be a useful tool, although most of the time it's just guys (and gals) jibber-jabbering about nothing. Makes the time go by, I guess.
The one time it came in handy for me was a year or so ago. I was coming back from Iowa, like usual. Another driver had left his CB in the truck by mistake, so I took advantage and used it, turning it off and on at various times in my trip. It must have been about 5 -5:30 in the morning, and I was eastbound on 80, I was approaching Morris, Illinois, just outside of Joliet, when the radio started crackling with excited voices. "You'd better get off here, eastbound, or you'll be sitting here a while." Apparently, a livestock truck had overturned, and was on its side, blocking both lanes of eastbound traffic. I must have been only about ten minutes behind it, because I could see the brakelights ahead of me. Of course, like a ninny, I didn't exit there (I think it's Illinois 41) and creeped up to where the line of vehicles came to standstill. Fortunately,
listening to the other drivers hollering directions over the radio, I was able to get into the left lane, then boldly make a U-turn on a police-strip on the median, and get back to 41 south to US6 eastbound. For those unlucky bastards who were right behind it, or not paying attention, I guess it turned out to be an all-day proposition. There were rumors of pigs/cows running around all over the highway, which I don't think were true, but I was able to circumvent the
whole situation, just because I had the radio. I hope the driver was ok. You never like to see, or hear about someone rolling a big-rig, although it seems to happen every day. But that is for another chapter...
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