"Excuses are like assholes: everybody has one, and they all stink!" - Coach Peeler, Richwoods High School, circa 1978
So, I finally get my first route in the spring of 2003: a 3-day run through Indiana. First day, (and I forget the times, sorry) I'd shoot out US30 to Fort Wayne, and I had 3 or 4 deliveries there. I remember a couple of them were these frozen yogurt places that we've been doing, almost as long as I've been with the company. It's about 2 1/2 hours from Chicago to Fort Wayne, so I must have started somewhere around 4:30 or 5 am, because my first delivery was at 7. Again, I'm a little hazy on the exact details. From Fort Wayne, I'd hop on US24 and head back west head towards Lafayette/West Lafayette, where I'd be delivering on the second day. I recall I had a stop in Huntington, about a half hour west of Fort Wayne, then I'd run out of time around Peru, where I'd shut down for the night.
Second day was mainly Lafayette/West Lafayette. I had four or five of the yogurt places,
all owned by the same guy, a decent enough fellow, although I remember we had some trouble during the hot summer months. I remember him going off on me a little because the
five-gallon tubs of ice cream had softened up a little, due to the crappy job the freezer compartment on my reefer had done (I'll devote a whole chapter to refrigerated units in a later
posting). I apologized profusely, and bent over backwards to help get the stuff into his freezer
ASAP. Otherwise, nothing remarkable struck me about that area, except for the Purdue billboards all over the place. I may have driven past the university, but don't remember really even seeing it. I would then head back nothbound on I65 toward civilization, er Merrillville.
I had a delivery in the Southlake Mall over there, and the owner preferred to have his delivery on that second day (Tues. or Wed., not sure) So, I'd back the truck up into the loading docks,
and unload the yogurt and ice cream out the side door, and bring it right in through the food court. As far as mall deliveries go, it wasn't half bad; I've seen worse, trust me. If I arrived mid-afternoon ( 2, 2:30 ish), there wasn't usually much pedestrian (or truck) traffic, so it was a snap. If it was later, however, then you could run into some delays. So, I'd take off for the truckstop
right afterwards, and shut down. I remember we had these old Volvos (8-speed) with a light
or "integral" sleeper. That's where the bunk is right behind the seats, with just a half-curtain separating the two. One trip I got a truck with no a/c. OMG! You have to just lay there, windows rolled down, bugs flying all over, praying for a cool breeze. Tough to sleep in those kind of conditions. I've since had trucks where the a/c has gone out, and gone through the same thing. Not fun.
Last day was actually a night shift: get up about 10pm; after coffee, etc. I'd run over to Michigan City, then back west to Lake Station and Hobart ("Ho-bert"). The pizza stores are easy because
you kinda know what to expect: you have store keys, alarm codes (hopefully, if neccesary), and the stores, while all laid out differently, basically order all the same shit, ya know? So I'd get done about 7 or 8 the third day, then all I had to do was go fuel the truck, then back to the base,
back up to the dumpsters, and get rid of all your trash and cardboard (there is a LOT of that). Just ask the dispatcher where they want the truck and bam, you're done. It was about a 40-hour run, give or take. I know I've probably said it before, but being paid by the hour, this job is the only one I know of where being efficient actually works against you. Of course back in those days, we full-timers were guaranteed 40 hours, no matter how many you worked (that policy has been done away with). So guys could work 3 days and get their 40, and have 4 days off.
Such a deal, right? Then you could ask for OT if you wanted it, do some local straight truck work, yard work, local pickups, etc.
I did the Indiana route through the spring and summer of 2003, and into the fall. I believe in September sometime they took me off it, and I was putzing around in Iowa for a bit (my current route). The guy that was doing Iowa had screwed up, or called in sick once too many times, I don't recall, but they gave it to me eventually, and I did that up until about November.
My last recollection I'd like to share here was of an incident at a truck stop in Indiana, along 80/94 around Burns Harbor or someplace. And this must have been later, when I was going up to Michigan, because I was scaling the load, and I came in to get my ticket. There was a guy there who was extremely upset and agitated about something. He was getting into it with the cashier, and after a few moments of arguing, he stormed out of the place, hollering "Fuckin' Hoosiers!" I laughed then, and I laugh now when I think of that (usually when I see a vehicle w/Indiana plates fucking up). Now, I don't mean to suggest that all Hoosiers are bad drivers,
but there does seem to be quite a few of them out there, people who don't seem to "grasp the concept," so to speak. I always go back to that angry guy: "Fuckin' Hoosiers!"
Next: Snow Hell
More Soon,
Steve
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Monday, January 15, 2007
F.S.A.'s
"I feel like shit..." Limp Bizkit, "Break Stuff"
F.S.A. = Food Service Asshole (that's what I am)
So, here it is, late September 2002, and I'm "back in the saddle," so to speak. I was very excited
to be going back to driving a big rig. WHOAA! Big Fella! Yeah, not so fast. When I first started with this outfit, I was hired basically as a relief driver, meaning I was "on call" 24/7. I'd fill in for guys calling off sick, on vacation, etc. Mostly I was doing these "special deliveries," where you'd
run around Chicago, up to Wisconsin, Indiana, even out to Iowa, usually in a straight truck. In fact, I remember my first really "big" run was up to the UP of Michigan ("Da Yoopers!") Oh, what fun! I had 5 deliveries on a Wednesday, I think, so I had to leave on Tuesday afternoon
about 2:30. It's like 10 hours up there, and by now it's November. I'm driving a sleeper cab
with a 36-foot "pup" trailer. Going up through Wisconsin's north woods was not a big problem:
I had mapped out my route while waiting to be loaded at the warehouse. Then you get up to Iron Mountain, and you think you're close. Ha! No, I was going to Houghton ( pronounced "Ho-
ton" not "How-ton"), which is almost right on Lake Superior.
As I traveled northward, the snow got gradually heavier - it was beautiful on the trees, etc., but not particularly fun to drive in. I must have made it to Houghton around midnight; my first delivery was at a school about 8:00 the next morning, so I drove there, found a spot and
hunkered down for the night. The next morning, I woke to the sound of plows, etc. There was
no hot coffee, which pissed me off, but what can you do? I made my first 2 deliveries no prob., but then came the trouble. I couldn't find the third place, which turned out to be a hockey rink down by the river, so like a moron, I tried to stop and call for directions. Well, I pulled into a gas station, and even with the smaller trailer, wound up hitting a concrete post, tearing up the
ladder under the side door of the trailer. So I find the joint, make the delivery, and then, more problems: couldn't get up the hill of the parking lot. I spun my drive tires, rocked the fucker as best I could, but nothing. They had to call for a front-end loader to come and pour red dirt up under my tires, so I'd have enough traction to get outta there. They use the dirt up there instead of salt 'cause it's cheaper, but man, it gets all over your vehicle. As I was leaving town, I noticed a sign that read "We have two seasons up here: Winter and Almost Winter". Oh, joy!
So, I came back down through Escanaba and Marinette, WI. If you look off to the east, on a clear day, you can see the peninsula of Door County, WI, but damn, was I glad to be outta there. I made it back to the south 'burbs with that ladder hanging by a thread. I'd return to the UP later in my career, but thankfully in summer (Almost Winter).
I would go out with senior drivers, as their "helper," and drive a little bit too. One guy told me, "Try to get a route ASAP, 'cause you'll get more hours, and you'll know where you're going every week." He was sooo right, but it took me about 6 months before I got a route, so I was
doing the relief thing. Not knowing where you're gonna go was the hard part for me: I absolutely HATE surprises! Anyway, I was gaining valuable experience - learning the various products, what they were, how to handle them, etc., the different vehicles, kind of understanding the fucked-up way the warehouse works - all these things helped in becoming the seasoned "pro"
(F.S.A.) that I am today. Brrrrrrtttttt!!!! (toots own horn)
Next: Hoosier Daddy?
More Soon,
Steve
F.S.A. = Food Service Asshole (that's what I am)
So, here it is, late September 2002, and I'm "back in the saddle," so to speak. I was very excited
to be going back to driving a big rig. WHOAA! Big Fella! Yeah, not so fast. When I first started with this outfit, I was hired basically as a relief driver, meaning I was "on call" 24/7. I'd fill in for guys calling off sick, on vacation, etc. Mostly I was doing these "special deliveries," where you'd
run around Chicago, up to Wisconsin, Indiana, even out to Iowa, usually in a straight truck. In fact, I remember my first really "big" run was up to the UP of Michigan ("Da Yoopers!") Oh, what fun! I had 5 deliveries on a Wednesday, I think, so I had to leave on Tuesday afternoon
about 2:30. It's like 10 hours up there, and by now it's November. I'm driving a sleeper cab
with a 36-foot "pup" trailer. Going up through Wisconsin's north woods was not a big problem:
I had mapped out my route while waiting to be loaded at the warehouse. Then you get up to Iron Mountain, and you think you're close. Ha! No, I was going to Houghton ( pronounced "Ho-
ton" not "How-ton"), which is almost right on Lake Superior.
As I traveled northward, the snow got gradually heavier - it was beautiful on the trees, etc., but not particularly fun to drive in. I must have made it to Houghton around midnight; my first delivery was at a school about 8:00 the next morning, so I drove there, found a spot and
hunkered down for the night. The next morning, I woke to the sound of plows, etc. There was
no hot coffee, which pissed me off, but what can you do? I made my first 2 deliveries no prob., but then came the trouble. I couldn't find the third place, which turned out to be a hockey rink down by the river, so like a moron, I tried to stop and call for directions. Well, I pulled into a gas station, and even with the smaller trailer, wound up hitting a concrete post, tearing up the
ladder under the side door of the trailer. So I find the joint, make the delivery, and then, more problems: couldn't get up the hill of the parking lot. I spun my drive tires, rocked the fucker as best I could, but nothing. They had to call for a front-end loader to come and pour red dirt up under my tires, so I'd have enough traction to get outta there. They use the dirt up there instead of salt 'cause it's cheaper, but man, it gets all over your vehicle. As I was leaving town, I noticed a sign that read "We have two seasons up here: Winter and Almost Winter". Oh, joy!
So, I came back down through Escanaba and Marinette, WI. If you look off to the east, on a clear day, you can see the peninsula of Door County, WI, but damn, was I glad to be outta there. I made it back to the south 'burbs with that ladder hanging by a thread. I'd return to the UP later in my career, but thankfully in summer (Almost Winter).
I would go out with senior drivers, as their "helper," and drive a little bit too. One guy told me, "Try to get a route ASAP, 'cause you'll get more hours, and you'll know where you're going every week." He was sooo right, but it took me about 6 months before I got a route, so I was
doing the relief thing. Not knowing where you're gonna go was the hard part for me: I absolutely HATE surprises! Anyway, I was gaining valuable experience - learning the various products, what they were, how to handle them, etc., the different vehicles, kind of understanding the fucked-up way the warehouse works - all these things helped in becoming the seasoned "pro"
(F.S.A.) that I am today. Brrrrrrtttttt!!!! (toots own horn)
Next: Hoosier Daddy?
More Soon,
Steve
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Transitions
First post of 2007! Woohooo!
Yeah, so the wife put the ol' kaibosh on me going back over the road. I wasn't thrilled about the idea, either. I mean, my family's needs obviously came first: the wife was at the point where
she wasn't able to work any more (verrry long story - not in this context, please), so me being away was really not an option. I didn't even call them to tell them I wasn't coming back (I felt kind of guilty about that, but oh well). I'm sure Manny would have been pissed.
So, what to do? Well, it meant having to find work locally, here in Chi-town. That in itself wasn't an easy proposition; it meant updating the ol' resume first. Then it was out pounding the pavement: looking through the classifieds, going on interviews, taking numerous drug tests and road tests (my fav!), dealing with know-it-all managers, blah, blah, blah. Some of my driving school buddies had locked on with a local beverage distributing company (big name), so I filled out an app., never got a call. Without much experience, I was pretty much dead in the water.
So, after weeks of this kind of activity, with no real results, I fortunately found this building supply distributor looking for a driver/warehouse worker. I took the job: I'd been out of work for almost a month, and the checks from the OTR company had stopped coming, ya know? So I went to work for these guys; most of the work was OK: the contractors would come up with their receipts, we'd pull the material (roofing shingles, siding, gutters, etc.) and help load it into their pickup. Just learning the different materials was the toughest part. As for the delivering, the trucks they had were all small (Mitsubishi, if I remember correctly) automatic transmission
straight trucks that were easy to drive. There were a couple of cube vans, and a "stake" truck.
We'd go bring the materials out to the job sites, usually new contruction of single-family homes or townhomes. Sometimes we'd have to go pick up supplies at a warehouse somewhere, or deliver or pick up materials from one of their other locations. It was pretty easy work. You'd have the usual frustrations of traffic, weather, etc. Some of the places they sent us to were way up in the north or west 'burbs, or out in Indiana, but at least the trucks were air-conditioned
(this is June '02 now) and had radios. I remember having a couple of fender-bender type accidents, at least one of which I drove away from, 'cause no one was around.
Then they decided to make me the roofing delivery "specialist" (ha!). The one truck with a manual transmission was a GMC "laddervator," basically a flatbed, 20-25ft or so, with a conveyor boom. We'd load the shingles ("squares") onto the flatbed, strap 'em down tight, then I'd take off in this 6-speed dinosaur to wherever they were doing the roofing job. Most buliding contractors are assholes to begin with, but roofers are a different breed altogether. I think you have to be a little insane to climb around 20 or more feet in the air in 90-degree heat from sunup to sundown. Anyway, I'd pull or back the truck up, swing the boom around to the roof, then start the conveyor when they were ready for me. I'd put the bundles of shingles on the conveyor belt, which had little nubs to hold the shigles in place, then off they'd go. You had to be careful not to load them on too quickly, else you'd piss off the guys taking 'em off up on the roof.
Most of the jobs were re-roofs, so they were single-family homes, which didn't require a whole lot of shingles.
There were a couple of incidents that made me "see the writing on the wall," and realize my time at this outfit was short. I don't remember the sequence, but one time I delivered to a house, and backed the truck up into the driveway just a little too far. I hit the gutter on the garage, denting it a cunt-hair. The contractor went fucking ballistic on me, calling me every name in the book, saying he told me to stop, and get it right or he'd kick my ass. I apologized, but later found out this guy was an ex-Marine or something, and had a really short fuse (ya think?). I tried not to let it bother me - I mean, the damage could have been fixed with one swipe of a paint brush, for Chrissakes - but it did, for a while. The other job that sticks out in my mind was an apartment building these guys were re-roofing. There were a shitload of shingles,
it was 90-plus that day, and it was mid-afternoon, all of which had me gasping for breath, getting light-headed, and nearly fainting. I had to stop a few times to catch my breath, get a drink, etc. Of course, the guys in the office, the sales guys that work with the contractors, always
found out about what happened, even before I returned to the base. How? They were all on the same Nextel network, of course. That "bleeep" sound has annoyed me ever since.
So, I realized I'd have to find something else. Again, update the resume, urine and driving test, all over again. I even tried again at___Cola, with the same results. However, right across the street was this foodservice distributor, and they were looking, so I figured "what the heck?"
They were all very nice; I remember my road test wasn't one of my crowning glories, but they said they'd let me know. After not hearing for a week or so, I called them one day on my lunch break . "Yeah, sorry Steve, you just don't have enough experience..." I'd heard that one before.
The manager there was very nice about it, and said he'd call me if someone else quit, or if anything changed. This was in August. Sure enough, a month later, right around my birthday, he called. "When can you start?" Being a professional, and not wanting to screw anyone (whether they deserved it or not) I told him "Let me give 2 weeks notice, and I'm all yours."
And that's how it went down. I told the building supply people I was going to drive container
trailers (another big, big industry here in Chicago) so they couldn't track down my new employer. Paranoid? Prolly, but hey, whaddya want.
Next: Food Service
More Soon,
Steve
Yeah, so the wife put the ol' kaibosh on me going back over the road. I wasn't thrilled about the idea, either. I mean, my family's needs obviously came first: the wife was at the point where
she wasn't able to work any more (verrry long story - not in this context, please), so me being away was really not an option. I didn't even call them to tell them I wasn't coming back (I felt kind of guilty about that, but oh well). I'm sure Manny would have been pissed.
So, what to do? Well, it meant having to find work locally, here in Chi-town. That in itself wasn't an easy proposition; it meant updating the ol' resume first. Then it was out pounding the pavement: looking through the classifieds, going on interviews, taking numerous drug tests and road tests (my fav!), dealing with know-it-all managers, blah, blah, blah. Some of my driving school buddies had locked on with a local beverage distributing company (big name), so I filled out an app., never got a call. Without much experience, I was pretty much dead in the water.
So, after weeks of this kind of activity, with no real results, I fortunately found this building supply distributor looking for a driver/warehouse worker. I took the job: I'd been out of work for almost a month, and the checks from the OTR company had stopped coming, ya know? So I went to work for these guys; most of the work was OK: the contractors would come up with their receipts, we'd pull the material (roofing shingles, siding, gutters, etc.) and help load it into their pickup. Just learning the different materials was the toughest part. As for the delivering, the trucks they had were all small (Mitsubishi, if I remember correctly) automatic transmission
straight trucks that were easy to drive. There were a couple of cube vans, and a "stake" truck.
We'd go bring the materials out to the job sites, usually new contruction of single-family homes or townhomes. Sometimes we'd have to go pick up supplies at a warehouse somewhere, or deliver or pick up materials from one of their other locations. It was pretty easy work. You'd have the usual frustrations of traffic, weather, etc. Some of the places they sent us to were way up in the north or west 'burbs, or out in Indiana, but at least the trucks were air-conditioned
(this is June '02 now) and had radios. I remember having a couple of fender-bender type accidents, at least one of which I drove away from, 'cause no one was around.
Then they decided to make me the roofing delivery "specialist" (ha!). The one truck with a manual transmission was a GMC "laddervator," basically a flatbed, 20-25ft or so, with a conveyor boom. We'd load the shingles ("squares") onto the flatbed, strap 'em down tight, then I'd take off in this 6-speed dinosaur to wherever they were doing the roofing job. Most buliding contractors are assholes to begin with, but roofers are a different breed altogether. I think you have to be a little insane to climb around 20 or more feet in the air in 90-degree heat from sunup to sundown. Anyway, I'd pull or back the truck up, swing the boom around to the roof, then start the conveyor when they were ready for me. I'd put the bundles of shingles on the conveyor belt, which had little nubs to hold the shigles in place, then off they'd go. You had to be careful not to load them on too quickly, else you'd piss off the guys taking 'em off up on the roof.
Most of the jobs were re-roofs, so they were single-family homes, which didn't require a whole lot of shingles.
There were a couple of incidents that made me "see the writing on the wall," and realize my time at this outfit was short. I don't remember the sequence, but one time I delivered to a house, and backed the truck up into the driveway just a little too far. I hit the gutter on the garage, denting it a cunt-hair. The contractor went fucking ballistic on me, calling me every name in the book, saying he told me to stop, and get it right or he'd kick my ass. I apologized, but later found out this guy was an ex-Marine or something, and had a really short fuse (ya think?). I tried not to let it bother me - I mean, the damage could have been fixed with one swipe of a paint brush, for Chrissakes - but it did, for a while. The other job that sticks out in my mind was an apartment building these guys were re-roofing. There were a shitload of shingles,
it was 90-plus that day, and it was mid-afternoon, all of which had me gasping for breath, getting light-headed, and nearly fainting. I had to stop a few times to catch my breath, get a drink, etc. Of course, the guys in the office, the sales guys that work with the contractors, always
found out about what happened, even before I returned to the base. How? They were all on the same Nextel network, of course. That "bleeep" sound has annoyed me ever since.
So, I realized I'd have to find something else. Again, update the resume, urine and driving test, all over again. I even tried again at___Cola, with the same results. However, right across the street was this foodservice distributor, and they were looking, so I figured "what the heck?"
They were all very nice; I remember my road test wasn't one of my crowning glories, but they said they'd let me know. After not hearing for a week or so, I called them one day on my lunch break . "Yeah, sorry Steve, you just don't have enough experience..." I'd heard that one before.
The manager there was very nice about it, and said he'd call me if someone else quit, or if anything changed. This was in August. Sure enough, a month later, right around my birthday, he called. "When can you start?" Being a professional, and not wanting to screw anyone (whether they deserved it or not) I told him "Let me give 2 weeks notice, and I'm all yours."
And that's how it went down. I told the building supply people I was going to drive container
trailers (another big, big industry here in Chicago) so they couldn't track down my new employer. Paranoid? Prolly, but hey, whaddya want.
Next: Food Service
More Soon,
Steve
Saturday, December 30, 2006
First Job, Final Chapter
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
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
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
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