Back in the Saddle

"I'm back in the saddle again..." - Aerosmith


After four months of basically nightmarish trucking work, I decided to come back to the lesser
of the evils. Sure, I could have explored other "types" of trucking (and there are many), but I
chose to go back to the familiar, the comfortable. See, despite the "back-breaking" nature of this type of work, actually knowing where you're going every week is something very comforting. I
can't speak for other truck drivers out there, but my biggest fear while driving (besides a major accident) is getting lost. That was another headache with the P&D company: we were just given
addresses, no real directions, so we had to find the general location on our atlas, then just hope
the place is/was in the vicinity. Sometimes you could call the dispatcher, who, if he/she didn't know the location, could call the customer for you and get directions. But that's a real pain in the ass, you know? And, to be more efficient, you're trying to do all this while driving - not the safest situation in the world. At least in the foodservice joint, you know where the stores are, or have written directions to each location if you don't.
The other advantage to being in food service (and I've mentioned this before) is that much
of our work is done in the wee hours of the night/morning, so you don't have to deal with a million people on the roads. Sometimes coming back from the north shore to the southwest side at 6:00 - 7:00 in the evening was a complete nightmare. Those of you who have driven in and around Chicago can attest. I mean, the Edens southbound, to the Kennedy southbound, to the Stevenson southbound could sometimes take an hour and a half or more. Many, many cursewords would be flying out of my mouth as I witnessed one idiotic maneuver after another.
So I came back. My boss, Frank (not his real name) was able to get me a decent returning salary, but as far as seniority was concerned, I had to start at the bottom. That meant that
there were guys that I trained who were ahead of me on the "totem pole." Nothing I could do about it. I wasn't the only one who "came back," either; several guys were in the same boat (at different times) and, like me, discovered the grass wasn't greener on the other side. Hey, as long as you left the company on good terms (gave 2 weeks notice, etc.), they were happy to have you back. With a serious driver shortage approaching, guys who knew the system and the products were invaluable.
The other nice thing about coming back was that they had finally established some new leases
for some brand-new trucks and trailers; nice, new Freightliner and Volvo trucks (by different
leasing companies) and new 48' trailers with the company logo on the side. I actually noticed the new equipment four months before as I was leaving the company. Now I was able to operate the new trucks/trailers with a much lessened fear of breakdowns. It's a nice feeling to know your chances of a mechanical failure are diminished because you have some decent equipment!
The trucks were all 10-speeds; the Volvos acted a bit differently than the Freightliners, but you
learned to adapt to whatever truck you had. Probably the nicest thing was that the new trailers
had functioning interior lights, so you could see what the hell you were doing in the middle of the night, not to mention the reefers. I'll talk in detail about reefers in an upcoming post, so stay with me. The 48-footers were not much different than the older, 45-foot trailers, just as 53-footers aren't much different than 48'. So we can drive just about anything and feel comfortable.
The sleepers were still the "light" variety, with the bunk being pretty much directly behind the front seats. In this respect, the Freightliners offer a little more breathing room, but you still can't stand up in 'em. They aren't "condo" units, like most OTR drivers run (no upper bunk, etc).
Anyway, like when I first started, I had to do some B.S. stuff at first when I came back; primarily the "specials" that we ran in the straight trucks or maybe with a pup-trailer; doing backhauls of cheese, or tomato sauce or flour. Eventually I got a route (my old Iowa route, which I still do to this day), and I was satisfied. We also got new uniforms ("monkey suits" I like to call them), but it's better than wearing out your own clothes. Some guys just refuse to wear
them, like they're too good, or their shit don't stink, I dunno. I guess I just felt (like I'm sure we all do) a need to belong, you know? And, until I win the lottery, or someone pisses me off to the point of physical violence, I belong here...

More soon,

Steve