Today, truckers are losing the time to interact with other drivers in a social atmosphere that used to be a staple of the industry.[63] With cell phones, text messaging, refrigerators and microwaves in the trucks, and the gradual disappearance of Mom & Pop truck stops, drivers often have limited time to socialize. With the ever-changing rules and regulations of both the DOT and individual trucking companies, and expectations of faster deliveries, time management usually wins out over social activity.
Trucking is unlike any other lifestyle. On any given day, it can be the greatest job on earth, and the next day, cracking yourself in the head with a sledgehammer seems joyous in comparison. It is often an emotional roller-coaster ride that spawns the desire for simple human interaction. Few other jobs involve as much private thought as trucking. Each day holds many hours of solitary confinement.
The solitary life of a trucker is hard enough for a single man or woman, but it becomes an even greater challenge for someone with a family. Not surprisingly, the divorce rate among truckers is much higher than the national average. In an article by Kevin Bates in the Topeka Capital-Journal, truck driver Dale Hutchens states:
“You gotta be some sort of a nomad, a loner, to do this job. We all want to be with our families, especially during the holidays, but that’s the life I chose.”
While many people were at home with family, opening gifts beneath the Christmas tree, Hutchens ate lunch at Roost Family Restaurant, a Topeka truck stop, and prepared for a northward trip.
“It’s a way of life,” says Hutchens, “you either accept it or you don’t.”
Hutchens still visits his Grandmother when he travels to the east. This makes holidays on the road more bearable, but he still has a lot of time to think about his nine-year-old daughter, Megan.
“I saw her a little bit yesterday, but I’m not going to be able to see her today. I gave her some Lego sets. I think about her constantly.”
For Hutchens and most other long-haul truckers, driving is a lifelong marriage to the road.
For me, the solitude of the road provides a mixed blessing. To observe a quiet and peaceful West Virginia sunrise while Kitty sleeps quietly in the passenger’s seat has a way of making me feel at peace with the world. At other times, I sorely miss the human interaction among co-workers in an ordinary job. The road is a mixture of excitement, serenity, loneliness, and stress. As long-haul truckers, the best we can do is try and make a home for ourselves on the road.
Most truckers use cell phones to stay in contact with family and friends. Broadband services are also available for Internet access. A driver can join mailing lists, chat groups, and develop cyber-friendships. It also helps to bring things from home to make the rig feel closer to home. Familiar music and photos and a refrigerator stocked with some favorite foods from home offer a consoling diversion. It is also fun to snap pictures with a digital camera and send them to family and friends, or post them online, allowing them to share in some of your adventures. A webcam and a free video chat service like Skype even allows the driver more personal interaction with family. Some drivers even take online classes on the road. While the rigors of road life would make it challenging to devote proper time and study to a college-level course, I firmly believe that if a person wants something badly enough, he or she will find a way to make it happen. If all else fails, a driver might consider teaming. Teaming has many pros and cons, but it might be an option worth considering for drivers whom loneliness proves too heavy a cross to bear.
Finally, a pet can be an indispensable companion on the road. For me, Kitty is my Rock of Gibraltar against loneliness. Unfortunately, more companies are eliminating (or already have eliminated) pet policies for company drivers. However, a handful of companies still allow drivers to bring along a furry friend. I cannot imagine being on the road without Kitty.
Kitty came into my life almost twelve years ago. As an abandoned and dying stray kitten, I paid the vet to nurse her back to health and then claimed her as my own. Kitty has remained with me through job loss, the death of a loved one, relocation, breakups, career change, and many other trying times. Through it all, she has never expected anything but food and love. Her round paunch proves that she gets plenty of the former, and my commitment to my loyal pet gives her plenty of the latter. As long as Kitty is around, I’ll never work for a trucking company with a "No Pets" policy.
Kitty has even offered subtle life lessons on dealing with loneliness on the road. On a beautiful Saturday morning in Tulsa, I watched as Kitty hung her head out the window and sniffed the morning air. The worries and stresses of daily mundane existence shortly evaporated as I watched the twitching pink nose of a small animal soak in the aroma of life. Loneliness was the farthest thing from my mind as I digested the simple and profound lesson that Kitty taught.
Author’s Note: Some things put forth in this article have changed since I first sat down to write it. When I originally wrote this essay in 2007, many truck stops still allowed smoking in the restaurants. Now, almost none still do. Whether that is a good thing or a bad thing depends, I suppose, on whether or not you smoke. Also, Roost Family Restaurant is now, sadly, closed. Smartphone technology has also improved dramatically since this time and iPad and tablet technology gives drivers yet more options to stay connected with family. Taking online courses has never been easier than it is now with the growing popularity of free MOOCs (Massive Open Online Courses). A properly motivated individual can now take quality online courses from an increasing list of top-notch universities without spending a dime. My personal favorite is Coursera.org.
Week 43: Macon Whoopee
I could not muster the motivation to leave on Sunday, so we spent an extra day at home and left on Monday morning. Our first run was a repeat of one we’d done before: Gadsden, Alabama to Homerville, Georgia. I stopped for the day at the Pilot in Tallapoosa, Georgia, having no desire to deal with Atlanta’s rush hour. Homerville went smoothly, and then we got a run from Macon, Georgia to Marietta, Pennsylvania.
Macon was home to a hockey team called the Macon Whoopees. The Whoopees played in the Southern Hockey League in 1973. Despite a brief flash of national publicity because of the nickname, the team disbanded in mid-season due to poor attendance. The Whoopee (without the plural "s") appeared again in 1996 where they played in the Central Hockey League and the East Coast Hockey League until 2002.[64] The logo changed from a fig leaf to a whooping crane with a bee on the blade of its hockey stick. The "bird and the bee" were intended as a play on the team name. I still worked in the television industry during this time, and I recall the resurrection of the Macon Whoopee. It was at least three months before any sportscaster or anchor could say the team name with a straight face.
After spending the entire day on country roads, I almost got out and kissed the asphalt of I-20 when we finally got there. I bore the heavy weight of fatigue when we stopped at a small Circle K truck stop in Thomson, Georgia for the night.
On Wednesday, Kitty and I passed through seven states. We spent the night at the TA in Greencastle, Pennsylvania that had IdleAire hookups for the trucks. IdleAire provides in-cab services to truckers via centralized systems at select truck stops across the country. The technology is called Advanced Travel Center Electrification (ATE). A distinctive yellow tube that hooks into the door window of the truck delivers the ATE services.[65] The interactive panel at the end of the tube provides heating and air-conditioning, phone service, Internet connectivity, television, movies-on-demand, and 110-volt electrical outlets. The services come at an hourly rate, and a ten-dollar window adapter is the only item needed before receiving services.
While some drivers give grand testimonials for IdleAire, others consider it a rip off. I used the service once and found it to work nicely. It kept the truck toasty warm on a cold winter night with no idling. However, the hourly rate coupled with the many "extras" that come at additional cost can quickly mount a substantial bill. Depending on how many of the tempting extras are purchased, the
rate can easily run higher than a motel room.
As Brian puts it, “With a motel room, you get a shower and a crapper to boot!”
While IdleAire might be a good idea, it doesn’t seem cost effective for a driver whose company does not reimburse the cost. Also, the IdleAire staff is often annoying and intrusive to a tired driver who does not purchase their service. The large yellow tubes also make the truck stop resemble a McDonald’s playland.
Author’s Note: IdleAire filed for bankruptcy in 2008 and officially closed for business in January of 2010. They have since been revived as IdleAir and are re-emerging at truck stops across the country. I never used the revamped service, but I sincerely hope the staff is less intrusive to drivers than the previous incarnation.
I altered my route plan again when I saw the company’s directions routing me over the South Mountains on a U.S. highway. I did not know how bad it was, but I was taking no chances on another Gatlinburg-like drama at midnight. This load delivered at 2am.
After running hard for two days straight and getting up before midnight after only a couple of hours sleep, I was feeling the results of the deprivation. Fortunately, parking was available at the customer in Marietta, so I parked for about three hours after delivery for a nap. Afterward, we picked up a load in Hanover, Pennsylvania.
Hanover is home to the national pretzel and snack food distribution center, Snyder’s of Hanover. These products are also found throughout Europe, in Southeast Asia, and in the Middle East. Hanover is also home to The Famous Hot Wiener restaurant where, as claimed in their ads, “We’ve served our famous wieners since 1923.”[66]
On the way to Hanover, US30 seemed to be nothing but a series of small towns and red lights. The Hanover was slated for Kansas City with a stop-off in Hazelwood, Missouri. After loading, we made it to the TA in Wheeling, West Virginia for the night.
It would not be entirely accurate to call the security guard in Hazelwood a jerk, so I’ll just call him what he was—an asshole! When I arrived, he ran to my truck as if his pants were ablaze and yelled adamantly that I was blocking the driveway. I surveyed the surroundings and noted that, on this Sunday, the entire facility was as deserted as an Arizona ghost town.
“Who am I blocking?” I inquired.
It required less than a minute to conduct my business inside, but the guard maintained his pugnacious rants the entire time. Afterward, I leisurely ambled back to my truck, just to watch his veins bulge. The "traffic flow" was still non-existent.
We arrived at the Kansas City terminal at 2pm where I showered, cooked dinner, and watched TV until it was time to make the final delivery on the other side of town. We returned to the terminal after delivery where I allowed Kitty to roam around outside and eat grass, or "Kitty salad." A hard day coupled with a dipshit security guard had left me in a bad mood, but watching Kitty derive such pleasure from a pure communion with nature made it impossible to stay angry.
Week 44: New Jersey Manners and Flopeye
I finally got a load offering from Topeka, Kansas to Keasbey, New Jersey. Each time I visit the Garden State, I tend to experience a healthy dose of New Jersey manners. While I’m sure there are many agreeable people in New Jersey, I have had my share of personal dealings with the other kind. My first sampling of "the other kind" happened at a travel plaza off the New Jersey Turnpike.
An impatient janitor appealed to go past me as I stood in a long line waiting to purchase an over-priced breakfast sandwich. Instead of saying, “Excuse me,” he just clucked his tongue for me to get out of the way. This was such an unbelievable display of rudeness that I couldn’t even get mad…I merely laughed aloud.
The New Jersey load would not be ready until Monday, so we spent all of Sunday sitting at a rainy Kansas City terminal.
We arrived at the Payless Distribution Center in Topeka at 6am on Monday only to find out the freight would not be ready until after noon. I called dispatch and they switched me to a Memphis load. Although this was a shorter run, I shed no tears about avoiding New Jersey. It rained all day again, but we made it to Hayti, Missouri for the night.
After delivery in Memphis, I had to do a short shag run. I detest shags! They are time-consuming, hard work, and the small amount of extra money does not compensate for the effort. I took a run to Columbus, Ohio after the vile shag and spent the night at the North 40 truck stop in Holladay, Tennessee. Here, I decided to splurge by enjoying a piece of chocolate fried pie.
We got to Columbus on Wednesday and, for the first time in a while, I had to blindside into the dock with no pull-up room. This time, I did it with less effort than in most of my previous attempts. I finally seemed to be getting better at challenging maneuvers.
After delivery, we went to the Columbus terminal to spend the night. We’d pick up a load at Kal Kan in Columbus in the morning that goes to Columbia, South Carolina. I could have taken a run to Nevada, and I probably would have if I weren’t trying to get home on Monday. Dispatch often offered an enticing long run when the driver’s home request drew near.
After a restless night’s sleep, I got up at 2am and drove right past Kal Kan. I despise looking for an unfamiliar place in the dark, but it is often necessary. While driving through Cincinnati, I found myself humming the familiar tune to WKRP. I cannot help myself—I do it every time.
With over 40,000 pounds of dog food in tow, the mountains of the Virginias were slow and tedious. I only drove five hundred miles, but it felt like a lot more. We endured a further delay waiting in a long fuel line at Love’s in Max Meadows, Virginia. Tempers among some of the drivers ran short in the midst of the chaos. A driver with a Russian accent rudely attempted to hurry me up. I politely (well, not entirely politely) told him he would have to wait until my business was complete.
Because of today’s delays, I felt I’d be cutting it close to deliver legally. I told dispatch that I would deliver in the morning. This load was on an open-ended schedule, so it did not present a problem. We shut down about forty miles from the customer in Great Falls, South Carolina.
On Memorial Day weekend of each year, Great Falls hosts an annual Flopeye Fish Festival. More than seventy-five years ago, a local merchant often sat in front of his general store and fell asleep in his chair. One day, three women passed by and one of them blurted, “Who is that flopeyed old man?”
Several bystanders heard her and the news made its way to Rob Mebane, the president of Republic Cotton Mills. Mebane thought that "Flopeye" was a proper name for that part of town, so mill management promoted the name, and it took hold. People still enjoy saying they have been to Flopeye.[67]
The delivery to Columbia went as planned, and then we got a load from Anderson, South Carolina back to Columbus, Ohio. Dispatch promised they’d get me home out of Columbus.
We endured a two-hour traffic backup on I-26 in North Carolina, and I was tired and grumpy by the time we shut down for the night in Dandridge, Tennessee. The backup killed my plans to go farther today. Shortly after parking, dispatch sent me a pre-planned load to get me home out of Columbus.
Typically, I am grateful for a rare home pre-plan, but this one was very tightly scheduled. In order to do it on time and legally, I’d have to bend the rules to the breaking point, forgo getting a shower in the morning, and discard any inkling of a good night’s sleep. This almost seemed like they were setting me up to fail. My cranky mood did not improve. However, I resolved to do whatever it took to pull it off—I wanted to go home! The walls of the truck have a way of closing in after a certain amount of time.
We rolled out at 2am on Saturday morning and drove non-stop to Columbus from Dandridge. I accomplished this by exercising a Zen-like strength of will on my bladder. Thanks to the triumph of meditation over caffeine, we made it to Columbus with time to spare. Afterward, we picked up a load in Cincinnati. It goes to McDonough, Georgia…then home sweet home!
I was tired, dirty, and still cranky at the end of the day, but a smile involuntarily crept across my face as I reflected on th
e challenges thrown in my path by this crazy job. In my old TV job, I never knew the stress and aggravation of blindsiding a 53-foot van into a small dock with no room to maneuver while my bladder screamed for relief. I neither knew the sense of invigoration that went along with actually pulling it off. My TV job never put me in a position where I was stuck in the snow in the middle of nowhere with no signal on my cell phone to call for help. It neither gave me the sense of accomplishment that comes with rising to the challenge of a day fraught with danger and impossible odds.
The smile plastered on my face was there because I was no longer doing something that sucked the joy of living from my soul. Despite the often hellish nature of trucking, my smile remained, and I counted my blessings…and then screwed the lid back on the pee jug.
Week 45: Squeaky Cheese
We started at 7:30am Sunday morning because I was unable to urge my body out of the sleeper when the alarm rang at 6am. A four-wheeler almost gave me a heart attack on I-75 in Tennessee when he jumped ahead of me off an entry ramp and subsequently slammed on his brakes. If there had been any traffic in the left lane beside me, I could not have avoided plowing into his rear. I was so pissed off when I passed him that I maintained a continuous blast of the road horn while I forced him to the shoulder with a maneuver affectionately known as a "New York Lane Change."
We spent the night at the Marietta terminal, a.k.a. "The Prison." I anxiously awaited four days at home after delivery to McDonough the next morning.
As usual, home time passed far too quickly, and it was difficult to muster the motivation to leave again on Friday in the midst of a pouring rainstorm. Kitty and I sucked it up and went anyway. Our first load was going to Fridley, Minnesota.
Spirit of the Road Page 18
