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Transcendence

Roadtoad

Bufo Caminus Inedibilis
Joined
Nov 27, 2002
Messages
15,468
Location
Citrus Heights, CA
I've been on the road pretty constant this week. It's been rewarding, for once, and I'm glad of that.

I'm starting out this new gig with a new rig, a 2004 Kenworth T800. I've a few gripes about it, (not enough horsepower from the 370 Cummins turbodiesel, and the turn radius is very, very wide), but otherwise, it's a fantastic rig.

I'm not particularly proud of the fact that I drive trucks. I got into it because it was something I could do relatively well, but that was about it. If it were up to me, I'd be doing something else, but avenues I want are closed at the moment. So, I do what I can, and hope for the best.

Still, there are rewards. I've gained some knowledge, which has proven wise over time.

Truth to tell, the toughest lesson is the one I've fought the hardest. I guess it took a KW to teach it, but then, I'm a tough student.

When I was first starting to drive trucks, one of the guys who trained me made it clear that the one thing I had to learn early on was that once those wheels left the yard, every nut, every bolt, everything connected to that truck was my responsibility. The CHP and the DOT might assign some blame if there were a problem to my employer, but I was the driver, and I was responsible to make sure everything was up to snuff. It was my burden.

Mine.

I couldn't blame a mechanic if the brakes didn't hold; I should have done my pretrip, and made sure my brakes worked. If the lights weren't working, it was up to me to get them working. If the steering was sloppy, I had the responsibility to make it right. Otherwise, you didn't roll, or you snagged a tractor that was up to snuff mechanically.

See, that was the other lesson. You have a run to make; go make it. You don't have the time to sit around the yard and wait for the mechanics to come in and tinker with your equipment. It may not be a real important run, but it's damn important that you make it.

At first, I would just grab another tractor, hook up to my trailer, and make my runs. Nothing to it. But as time went on, I began to realize that there were some things I needed to do myself.

Like I said, it was my responsibility.

So, I picked up a screwdriver and a set of wrenches at a local hardware store. They weren't the greatest tools around, but I found I could reattach a loose fitting, or change a hose, or reattach a strut to the truck's frame within a few minutes, and save myself the hassle of waiting for a wrench monkey to free himself from whatever else he was doing. If I got a little greasy, so what? My rig was ready to roll, while other guys were sitting around the yard, waiting for things to happen.

I bought a few more wrenches, a few other items like electrical tape, teflon tape, water pump pliers, and the like. I had a little wooden box I carted this stuff around in, until my youngest son, Matt, got me a tool bag for Christmas. My rig began to become more and more dependable, and I was ready to roll more often than the other guys in the yard. I never found myself flagged during an inspection, and I was always in good enough shape to stay legal. It was my responsibility, and no one else's once my wheels left the yard.

I switched jobs, and kept my tools with me, taking our head mechanic's advice at my last job. I added socket sets, drivers, allen wrenches, and never had any problem at the scales. I got to where I could fix most problems on my own, and changed belts and hoses a few times just to prove my point to my new employers. I was responsible for my rig, and I took that responsibility seriously. While other guys were fumbling around trying to find the necessary tools to uncrate and deliver our customers' goods, I was always ready, and on time. My rig never broken down for any serious length of time, and I was always ready to roll at a moment's notice. (Pretty good, considering we were running Freightshakers.)

I switched jobs again, only this time, I left the tools at home. I didn't need them, I was told. By the time they fired me, (two accidents not my fault, another that was, but nothing on my record), I'd pretty much had it with places that didn't want me touching the the mechanicals of my tractor or trailer.

Maybe they'd become something of a talisman for me, or maybe they were sort of like Linus's security blanket, but I missed having the means at my disposal to keep my truck running through thick and thin. Not having my tools at my side left me feeling naked, as if someone had taken from me the necessary part of the job that I had to be sure my machine was ready to roll when I got my dispatch.

I had to find another ride, of course. Things didn't look that good, considering I blew one drive test with a local company. Pretty stupid when you think about it, considering I'm supposed to do this pretty well. They didn't want me taking too many responsibilities with the rig, either. I began to wonder if I would find a good place to drive for.

And then I walked through the door of this funky little trucking company in Antelope. They were looking for a guy who could run an end dump. Oh, and they needed someone who'd keep his rig up to snuff.

Yeah, I can do this, I said.

True, I've got a new tractor, but I've got an older Reliance trailer. I've had to fix a busted hub on my trailer, (you lose that, and you can smoke a bearing in minutes), I've had to rehang the tailgate, (which fell off after I dropped a load of scrap concrete), and I've had to do quickie fixes on a couple of other rigs. Not much, I guess, but when your wheels hit the pavement, it's just you and your rig. No one blames the mechanic if the rig isn't running right. It's you.

I guess it all comes down to this: you're really the only one who makes it work in this life. You can blame God, or Satan, or whomever you choose. You can blame your mother, (lots of us do), you can blame your shrink, but ultimately, you're the one who's behind the wheel, and once the wheels clear the yard, you're the one people look to if your life is good or not. You can pick up the tools to fix whatever ails you, or you can sit around and wait for someone to come patch it all back together, and lots of people do that, too.

But the truth is, there's a lot to be done out there. It gets back to something I think Ghandi said: What you do may not be very important, but it's very important that you do it. It's not always fun, but it's out there, and someone needs to do it.

My tool bag is a heavy thing these days, with tin snips, ball peen hammers, screwdrivers and the like. But my KW won't be in the yard or the shop that often. The bag may be heavy, but I can bear it, when it makes the difference between getting the load through, or sitting idle.

Are you getting the load through?
 
There is no other view. Even if you can come up with a reasonable excuse for why it's some other guy's fault, what difference does it make? You still have to get the load through.

Make good luck with your new rig.

~~Paul
 
Re: Re: Transcendence

arcticpenguin said:

I'm certainly not gonna argue with a guy who's living in the future.

Nah, it's a 2004 MODEL YEAR Kenworth. It comes out in 2003, but it's got all the nifties that you're not supposed to get until next year. (Except GPS, which would have been sweet...)
 
Roadtoad, a friend of mine bought a GPS system for his car. I think it's made in Australia, but I can find out. Stores the street maps for all of New England and New York (or whatever part of the country you need). Displays the map and the upcoming street name. When you enter a destination, a voice guides you to it. Very cool.

~~ Paul
 
Paul C. Anagnostopoulos said:
Roadtoad, a friend of mine bought a GPS system for his car. I think it's made in Australia, but I can find out. Stores the street maps for all of New England and New York (or whatever part of the country you need). Displays the map and the upcoming street name. When you enter a destination, a voice guides you to it. Very cool.

~~ Paul

Sounds sweet. A buddy of mine had one for his routes. Cut the time he spent on the road by at least two hours.

$64 question here: What would be your "GPS" in other areas of your life? My suspicion is that far too often, we misuse the wisdom of others, of ages prior, and wind up in the wrong place. Been there, done that, too often.

It's nice to claim that we've developed a certain "instinct" for such matters, but I've found that most of those instincts are really a catch-all phrase for "experience," much of which is bitter, brutal, and painful. Your thoughts?
 
RoadToad
This whole "toolbox" imagery of "fixing it yourself" strikes me as utterly Humanist.

Dude, when you gonna just give up and admit you are a secular humanist?

:)

The GPS for my life is the Golden Rule. Whenever I am in doubt, I stop and ask myself: if I were that person, what would I want me to do? Then I ask myself: If I were that person, and I were imagining I were me, what would I want me to do?

In the intersection of those actions lies the correct path.
 
Re: Re: Re: Transcendence

Roadtoad said:


Nah, it's a 2004 MODEL YEAR Kenworth. It comes out in 2003, but it's got all the nifties that you're not supposed to get until next year. (Except GPS, which would have been sweet...)

GPS beats living hell out of asking idiots for directions,which is the reason most guys won't ask in the first place.
 
Yahzi said:
RoadToad
This whole "toolbox" imagery of "fixing it yourself" strikes me as utterly Humanist.

Dude, when you gonna just give up and admit you are a secular humanist?

:)

The GPS for my life is the Golden Rule. Whenever I am in doubt, I stop and ask myself: if I were that person, what would I want me to do? Then I ask myself: If I were that person, and I were imagining I were me, what would I want me to do?

In the intersection of those actions lies the correct path.

Secularism only works up to a point. At some point, it helps to have better imagery to work with.

In my briefcase, I carry loads of Thomas Brothers' and AAA maps, as well as others I've picked up along the way. I have another Thomas Brothers' book for the entire state of California. (AKA, the State of Confusion.) Someone had to have mapped the route out ahead of me. I can't see them, but I have the evidence they were there.

Of course, the roads change. :eek:

It may be that I'm far more humanistic than I realized. It's good to have the input of others who have a different perspective on things. The position of a driver in a truck gives you a nice wide view of the road ahead, but it plays all kinds of hell when you're dealing with stuff up close. And the wide array of mirrors which surround you can be far more confusing than helpful in many situations. (Why do you think we get so freaked out when you people hang out in our blind spots?)
 
Something else, that happened today:

As you recall, I drive an end dump rather frequently. Semi end dumps are a weird piece of business to work with in the first place, but they get even stranger with some of the loads you get to work with. When I worked for a rendering company, it was either roadkill or lamb guts.

Lamb guts is for all intents and purposes a liquid load. They pump so much water into it so they can get it out of the plant, you're basically dealing with a soupy mass of intestines, stomachs, bladders, and the like. Since you have it in an open topped trailer, you have to take your turns carefully, and you really don't want to make any sudden stops. (Trust me. I know this too well.)

Today, I was hauling rubble. Old concrete to be precise. It's not too bad, except it can hang up in the top of the trailer. That makes things dicey. Like I've said before, truck driving is nothing more than applied physics.

I pulled into the recycling yard where we've been hauling this scrap concrete, and backed into the area where I'd be dumping. I popped the latch for the tailgate, (the same tailgate which has been flying off it's damned mounts lately), switched on the PTO, then ran the engine up to 1000 RPM. I watched in the rearview mirrors as the trailer bed raised up, and listened for the screech of the concrete as it came sliding out the back of the end dump.

Things were going as they should, except, I noticed one wheel was starting to raise off the pavement....

My first thought: Oh, sh**!

Now, I should explain here: I've never, NEVER flipped a trailer. Not once. I know plenty of guys who have, and I've seen some genuinely weird end dump flips. One that was particularly memorable was the guy who was pulling the tailpin unit. This is a trailer with a solid frame and a ram in the front of the trailer bed. The whole bed pivots on a tail pin in the back of the trailer. (This is far different from the center pivot units you normally see on the road these days, which are a lot more stable.)

I came in one morning, and the bed was on its side, and the whole frame was twisted around like a corkscrew. The tractor, a late model Peterbilt 377, was still upright, oddly enought. Go fig.

Of course, the company got rid of the trailer. They never bought another tailpin unit. No wonder. No one wants them.

Of course, they weren't going to repair this one, either.

Did I mention that they went through something like six of those damn things? And nearly every one of them had flipped.

Back to today: I had a trailer that was about to go over.

No prob. I flipped my switches, and began to lower the unit. When I had all my duals on the ground, I rolled forward, and redropped. Nothing to it.

Now, I suppose if this were a country/western song, I'd be at the bar bragging to my buddies about what a great driver I was, and how I'd beaten the end dump. Unfortunately, this is real life.

I ain't telling too many folks. Most other end dump drivers, on hearing about this, will simply shake their heads and say, "You dumbass, why didn't you double check your load and the ground you were on before you even engaged the PTO? You're supposed to know better."

And they'd be right, of course. It would have been my fault if the trailer had gone over.

Most people hear about another persons "bravery," and when you're among the uninitiated, you tend to think, "Gee, that was a really brave person." In reality, they were simply lucky their own stupidity didn't kill them.

And as I get older, I realize just how stupid I've been over the years.

But you learn. You get to laugh about it later on. You hopefully can pass on a little more experience to someone else. And you hope that in the end, what you've learned will keep you moving for another day.
 
I have to ask about something:

About a week ago, another driver and I were on the CB, asking questions about one thing or another on a jobsite. Neither one of us knew what the hell was going on, as this was our first time here, and it was a rather complex delivery. We were going to be required to do a little gimmicking to get our limit loaded tractors and trailers into the area, as well as keeping our eyes on the workers who were running all over the area. About this time, yet another driver jumped in.

"Toad, do you ever THINK before you open your mouth?"

Okay, now keep in mind, this is a CB radio. First, we're on Channel 17, which in California, is the general communication channel. (Much like Channel 19 is in the rest of the country. Just don't ask. Please, don't ask...) Secondly, we're in the Bay Area, with all kinds of traffic running up and down the 101. In other words, EVERY TRUCKER IN THE FRIGGING AREA has heard this guy pop me. To this moment, I still have no idea what it was I said that provoked this comment, (and really, I don't care), but the bottom line was he had publicly slammed me.

I was somewhat pissed off.

Okay, actually, I wanted to take the binder bar out of its holster on the headache rack, and apply it firmly and repeatedly to the side of his head. (It's heavy steel, about 20 pounds. Big ouches result...)

A few moments later, with me sitting silent, (Hell, the damn channel went quiet!), the other guy comes back on and says, "I meant that as constructive criticism. I do not slam people."

Oh, yeah. Sure. Take a listen to the squawker, Dumbass. (Edited to add: Sorry, Hal.) The only person who thinks that is you...

He pulled up alongside me a few minutes later, and said the same thing out the window. Then, he added, "If you're going to take that sort of thing personally, you and I are going to have problems..."

Nice. A slam and a threat. In one day, too. God, I love this business...

I make my runs, and head for home. I don't hear much from the other guy, and frankly, it's just as well. I've got other things to deal with, including keeping my weight centered where it belongs on the rig. Tie downs take up another part of my day, and by the time I get home at six that night, I've got still other things to deal with.

So it's a couple of days later, and there's a bunch of us on I-80 near some roadwork. We're going to be moving the K-rail, (the concrete barricade that protects road workers), which will take up most of the night. We have our safety meeting, ("Okay everyone, don't do anything stupid. Let's go.") and loudmouth calls me over.

"You still mad at me, Toad?"

"No."

He grinned and shook his head, while a few of the guys looked a me funny. I don't know what they were expecting.

"I figure if there's a problem, it's yours," I answered, and walked off to my truck. I had a job to do.

Okay, maybe I should have said something like, "You two-bit piece of filth, hell yes, I'm mad!" But I wasn't.

I guess I'm just getting old or something. (Maybe you have another take on it.) But to my way of thinking, no matter what sort of a spin he put on it, it was still a slam. So, now, I know he's going to slam me when he gets a chance, and for that matter, I know not to waste my time on him.

It's funny. We've reached a point around this country where we can say damn near anything we want to another person, no matter how well we know them or not, no matter how destructive it is, as long as we add: "It's constructive criticism." The pseudo-Christian bit is "I want to tell you this in Love." I'm sure there's other variations.

But like I said, I'm getting old. I figure, I don't have to put up with this sh** anymore.

I think of times I went in to talk to pastors, and was told, "Well, from what I can see, and I want to tell you this in Love, as a form of constructive criticism..."

I'm old. I don't need this...

Is it just me, or have I really begun to change?
 
I'm not particularly proud of the fact that I drive trucks. I got into it because it was something I could do relatively well, but that was about it.

I once had to pick up a relative at the airport. On the way it started to snow. Heavy, fast. You couldn't see the dividing lines on the highway. The plows hadn't got out yet. I got my little Mercury Tracer right behind a big ol' 18 wheeler and followed him all the way down I95 south to Philadelphia International. I knew I would be okay if I just stayed with him, and I was.

I have great admiration for truckers. Many people do, despite what they may say. I was married to one. I know what it takes. You should be proud.

But there is something else that you do "relatively well".......writing. I enjoy your posts.

10-4
 
Roadtoad said:


Secularism only works up to a point. At some point, it helps to have better imagery to work with.


What would that point be?? What is it that you are clinging to? From what you write, it sound to me like you are more and more facing up to a world that is all real--no Gods -no monsters--just us...but somehow you can't let yourself admit that--but it sounds like you are living it--which is, in the end, the Real important part.

Have safe journeys!
 
Roadtoad, all I have is admiration for you. My uncle and my grandfather were long haul truckers - I've watched a trucker 'babysit' a sleepy driver on the road, until he could convince the guy to pull off and get a nap.

I've had a trucker hand me his spare lug wrench 'cause I had stupidly forgotten mine (I was VERY young!) - he had a schedule to keep and said, 'keep it' and drove away. In '98 I did the same thing with the same lug wrench to a couple of kids off roading 20 miles out of Barstow.

When I was a teen, and my life was pretty confused, I had the great fortune to briefly meet an old Jewish guy who told me something that I'll never forget - he said,
"As long as you have your hands and your mind, you can do great work. The job doesn't matter - you can be a great doctor, or a great trash collector, just treat each job with pride. And son, if you DO become a trash collector, then throw those garbage cans HIGH!"

Don't think badly of trucking Toad, it's an honorable profession. I couldn't do what you do.

And as others have pointed out, you can write very well - Start creating, you would be very good at it.
 
Roadtoad said:


How long of a story are you ready for?
I'd like to read one about a man and woman who cant clearly be meant for one another, suddenly fall in love, with humorous analyzations and witty dialogue!
 
Yahweh said:

I'd like to read one about a man and woman who cant clearly be meant for one another, suddenly fall in love, with humorous analyzations and witty dialogue!

Hmmm. I suppose I could tell you about my beloved Bride, Peggy.

I could tell you that while I was working at a Christian Radio station, (Christian Radio is an oxymoron), I got bored one night and called our answering service, and told the operator with the beautiful voice, "I'm bored. Would you like to talk?"

I could, but I won't.

I could also go into how we got married, had a couple of kids, and how she got into trouble with one of the "Special" people in our Church at the time, as the woman said, "So, Peggy, what do you think of Norman Mailer?"

"I think he's a legend in his own mind."

(Smirking): "That's not very original."

"That's okay. Neither is Norman Mailer."

I could, but I won't.

I suppose I ought to tell you about the classy way she handled my mother, and my mother's insults, even as my mother tried repeatedly to degrade her. I would then need to include a few bits about how she's "Gratefully Submissive," as the Baptists say she ought to be. ("Honey, what were you thinking!?!?!") But, since I'm not telling you about all that other stuff, this would seem to be pointless.

I could also tell you about how she puts up with me, and my taste in music, (Zep, Steely Dan, Enya, Miles, etc.), but I guess that would be pointless, too.

Is there anything else I could do for you, Yahweh?
 

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