Roadtoad
Bufo Caminus Inedibilis
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?
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?
