I'd never ridden in a semi for any long trips, just little jaunts down the road. When this opportunity arose, I couldn't say no. I wanted to know what it is really like to see the road from the vantage point of a semi.
Judging from other people's questions, JP's job provokes a lot of interest. JP happens to have very colorful and enlightening answers. Most people base their knowledge of truck drivers on 1970s movies like "Smokey and the Bandit" and "Convoy" which made truckers out to be outlaws and rough necks. Some of that still exists, but that generation of trucking is almost extinct. Today, there are vast gleaming truck stops and paperless logs will soon be putting the outlaw truckers out of business. In addition, truck driving is a bit more colorful these days as drivers from other races and cultures, as well as women, take their place behind the wheel. Don't be surprised to see a Sikh turban or a Mexican flag.
JP's schedule took some getting used to. Driving through the night and the into the morning means sleeping through the day, resting a bit in the afternoon and evening and then up again to drive all night. It takes stamina, a strong back and an ass that can take the abuse. That first night I struggled to get adjusted. My back and butt hurt. I leaned on the arm rest and my elbow got a blister. Banging around in the truck is very hard on the body. I had no idea.
By 2:30 a.m. that first night, I simply could not keep my eyeballs open. What had I gotten myself into? JP switched through the channels on the radio, stopped for a moment on Willie Nelson singing, "On the Road Again," then moved on. In the truck, everything moves on. Weary and in pain at 3 a.m., I finally collapsed into the bunk. JP kept right on driving.
The thing about the truck is that it never stops moving. It is either moving forward or humming as it sits in the lot. But, it never stops moving. There is never quiet, no silence and rarely peace. There is, however, pressure. Be on time, don't be over-weight, don't get into an accident, stay out of trouble. On the road there is always trouble.
Every driver has a million stories. JP has been shot at, propositioned by "lot lizards," lost in cities and the backwoods, defended the helpless and helped the desperate. Regularly he sees naked people while on the road (less so in the wintertime). He's seen horrible, unspeakable accidents and many, many incredible sunrises. Watching the sky change from velvet black to golden blue will make you think about your place in the scheme of things.
After that first brutal (to me) night, we still had to pick up our second load of the trip, a long-haul to Texas. Zombie-eyed and exhausted, we suddenly found ourselves face-to-face with nature on one of those golden blue mornings. Out of nowhere, a Red-tailed Hawk swooped down, captured breakfast on the side of the road and took flight, all just a few feet from the truck. It flew up into the air, and, wings spread, eyeballed us. Real eye contact for a millisecond. Chills instantly spread over my body.
One of the best parts of the job is honking the horn for little kids as they pass us in their shiny, quick cars. The kids hop and cheer. JP just smiles; it's a nice little perk.
I love collecting the names of interesting streets and roads. On this journey I noticed one called "Marked Tree Road." Some of my other favorites over the years include "Witness Tree Road," "Molly's Backbone Ridge," and "Starbird Road."
Another great hobby: collecting graffiti. Some truck stops are spotless and shocking in their cleanliness. They are also barren of the kind of graffiti humor that I have come to love. At the less-loved stops the graffiti gets good. Some gems from these journeys:
- One by one, garden gnomes are stealing my family!
- Let the people speak! (In another hand:) "No! They say stupid shit!"
- Stop writing on the doors. Thank you, The Management. (graffiti on a door)
- Beware the Ass Critters!!!! (In a foul outhouse at a job-site in Texas)
We knew, for at least a few days in advance, what our most scary moment would be in the truck. Hurricane Gustav was predicted to hit the exact area we were traveling into. I'll admit, fear got the better of me on that trip. At truck stops headed down into the affected area truckers stood shoulder-to-shoulder, two and three deep in front of the weather on TV. Some shook their heads and walked away. JP just fueled up and drove on.
JP has the reputation of being a bit crazy. Snowstorms in Sheboygan, Wisconsin do not scare him. Ice in the mountains of Tennessee? Not a problem. Michigan to Carlsbad, New Mexico and back in five days? Check out my dust. (While Michigan had two feet of snow on the ground, JP came back with a bug-splattered truck.) While getting shot at in Cincinnati, JP collected his paperwork from the security guard who had taken cover on the floor. Crazy.
Hurricane Gustav? Bring it on.
I've never been in a hurricane before. I had never seen rain like that. Never. We drove from Texarkana, Arkansas to Dallas, Texas in torrents of horizontal rain. Fierce winds lashed the truck. JP drove like he happened on a rain squall on a Sunday afternoon drive while I gripped with white knuckles the whole way. At about 12:30 a.m. we pulled into a rest stop and got the only spot left, right by the door, no less. Trucks lined the entire entrance and exit, as well. We crawled into our bunks and tried to catch a few winks.
I pulled myself onto the top bunk and tucked the blanket around me. Winds fiercely lashed the truck and I lay there with eyes the size of saucers. What had I been thinking? Drive into a hurricane? Sure! Not a problem.
"Will you stop moving around like that?" JP called from the bottom bunk.
"It's not me-E-e!" I sang from up top.
"That's the wind?!"
Oh, yes. The wind.
We stayed for about an hour and then hit the road again. We hooked up with another trucker and freight-trained through the storm. We didn't see another vehicle on the road the whole time. It ended up being the scariest 200 miles of my life.
Bear: Sheriff's Officer or police, in general
Chicken Lights: An overly lit truck (in an attempt to look cool). If even one of the lights are out, the driver can be written up at a Chicken Coop.
An Empty: Empty trailer
Pin Puller: A metal rod used by the driver to pull the lever on the King Pin, unlocking the trailer from the truck.
Steers: Wheels at the front of the truck that are controlled by the steering wheel
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