Me and Cousin Frasier

I ended up January in Salt Lake City, on a lay-over at Sapp Brothers Truck Stop. Along the way their trademark roadside coffee pot sign popped up just off the Interstates on other runs travelling through Nebraska and Iowa. I never gave it much thought, just another place to warehouse drivers for the night. Driver chatter on the CB recommended the stop, so I set the GPS to take me on over. Upon entering, I wheeled over to the big yellow Idle Air tubes. Little did I know at the time, but it would be the last weekend for it. Bankrupt and unable to find a buyer, they suddenly shut down the last day I was there. Too bad, it was a great service for truckers. For a $1.85 an hour, you could hook a big vent-like tube to your window and get hot and cold air, an electric outlet, cable TV and internet. It was great, because you could save fuel by not idling the engine and burning fuel at roughly a gallon an hour. Figure about $2.80 a gallon now for diesel. At least I got to see the AFC and NFC Championship games on the final hurrah.

Usually, when I try a new stop, I’ll case the joint to determine what it has and where everything is. When I entered Sapp Brothers for an initial tour, I sensed an atmosphere geared toward comfort that I had only seen a few times on the road. Big green rugs with the rubber boarder led the way to the rest room. What a great idea. A lot of floors in the rest rooms at stops are just a big wet mess by virtue of melting snow in the parking lots being tracked in by truckers. During the course of my stay, I saw these rugs being changed out a couple of times a day. Just a simple detail, but a nice warm and dry rest room made a big difference. Dam, I wanted to go to the bathroom when I didn’t have to!

The restaurant offered a complete buffet with plenty of healthy selections, including my favorite, chopped spinach in natural sauce. Not creamed, or with a bunch of cheese added. Just spinach. A lot of stops revolve around fast food and I try to avoid it as much as possible. Talk about the movie “Super-Size Me” and I could have written that screenplay. Based on the spinach alone, give this restaurant an “A”. From my booth in the restaurant, I had a nice view of the snow covered Rockies through an impeccably clean window. I like this place.

My exploratory expedition brought me to an elevator leading to the second floor Driver’s Lounge. I felt like I was in a nice hotel on the way up. Level number two offered an ample number of late model washers and dryers along with the shower facilities, a big screen TV room, a chiropractor’s office and a dentist. Long Haul Dental seemed like an appropriate name. Later, when I used the shower facility, I found granite-like counter tops and a quality nozzle in the shower itself. On top of a “How Are We Doing?” scorecard, there were red and white swirl peppermints. On the wall next to the sink, I found a hair dryer for those with long flowing locks. I might have made use of it in 1975 on my long golden locks. If you spent ten dollars somewhere in the travel center, the shower was five. Most showers on the road are ten, but I get most mine free on fueling points. If you purchased fifty gallons of fuel, it was free. Add it all up and you’ve got little touches that made a big impression on me. I carried the survey out and ended up writing a book of accolades. In addition, the entire staff was schooled in customer service. I found them friendly, talkative and accommodating. It’s the honor roll for these folks.

January was an off month with the Fat Cat in the shop so much. Follow that with a 28 day February and a better “get on my horse” attitude was how I felt. Now, being in a nice truck stop is one thing, but when you’re not rolling, it’s a whole ‘nother story. Truckers in general get antsy waiting around for anything. Just when I was beginning to feel weary about being stationary for two days, my phone sounded off with the Price Is Right theme and my little automated friend described a run from right in Salt Lake going to Auburn, Washington. I jammed “3” for accept and Washington State it was. Wouldn’t it be great to hear Frasier on the radio up there, I mused. I’m actually supposed to be related some in some way to Kelsey Grammar, who portrayed Frasier the talk radio shrink from Seattle on TV. His mother was a Cranmer and I've always mused that our paths intersect generations back. Everyone knows all Cranmers are related. He states in an autobiographical piece that he marveled at how his mother and father’s last names were so close phonetically and how close he was to his mother and the Cranmer’s. In addition, one of my best old buddies, Dave Whiting, lives in the Tacoma area near Seattle. Dave and I go back to fifth grade where we traded WABC music surveys. Later on, we shared many adventures in the Boy Scouts. Our travels included a legendary journey to Phimont Scout Ranch in Cimarron, New Mexico in the summer of 1970. A year later as part of a fearless expedition, we canoed two hundred miles into the Canadian wilderness from Boundary Waters at Ely, Minnesota. On local campouts, we brought more lighter fluid that food! Tall flames were a great pastime on these outings. You can’t put a price on the memory of two young scouts squirting streams of Kingsford’s finest flammable on open flames to exponent the effect. It was kind of like Tom Hanks in the fire scene of Castaway. To all young scouts today, I wouldn't recommend our use of fire.  I'm sure you're smarter than we were.  Lighter fluid is very dangerous, be sure to use it properly. Dave went on to make history and become the youngest scout to earn the rank of Eagle at Troop 154 in Pluckemin, New Jersey at age fourteen. It’s a record that still stands today, if I’m correct. We’re talking about more than 50 years of Troop 154. An obligatory call to him was in order with the good news. During our phone conversation, Dave promised good food and a tour of town when I got there. This voyage would be fun, I can’t wait to get rolling.

The run up through northern Utah, Idaho, Oregon and Washington itself would prove to be a most scenic excursion, even though a majority of the trip would be in the dark and the fog. Imposing Rocky Mountain Peaks are no match for any kind of weather or darkness. Thousands of twinkling lights in the adjoining valleys bounce off these majestic behemoths. A new day would dawn in Oregon leading up to the mighty Columbia River which separates Washington and the Beaver State. As I crossed over into Washington State, I felt an air of accomplishment by setting foot in the Great Northwest. Now, I could “notch” all four corners of America. Maine, Florida, California and Washington were now securely under my belt. The completion of visiting every state in the continental United States was within sight. I love this big beautiful country of ours so much that I want to cover it all. In a figurative sense, I want to meet all the Americans that make up this land of the free. Wyoming on the way back east would make 45. For me, there’s only three more to go from sea to shining sea. Montana and the Dakotas are all that’s left of my lower 48. Now, I’ll have to figure out how to get to Alaska and drop in on Sarah Palin. Hawaii is going to be a trick, I hear the bridge toll is a whopper.

Fruits and Nuts

Morning arrived and yet another trip to the shop to repair the truck. One of the air bags for the air ride on the cab busted and created an ox cart out of the Fat Cat. The resulting sound of escaping air from the air lines sounded like the hissing of a big, mean old snake. If I had to drive a truck like this for any length of time, I’d be in daily chiropractic care, riding around in a motorized scooter. I felt bumps in the road that didn’t exist. The Freightliner became a Freight shaker.


Sacramento Truck Center seemed like the logical place to go since they had a big Freightliner sign out front. Once inside, the shop appeared orderly and the service writer assured me that they would fix the problem easily. They had a good selection of refreshments and of course, being in California, good gourmet coffee. The driver’s waiting lounge featured leather recliners with TV and reading material. I privately thought, take your time guys, I could catch a nap here.

About an hour passed and I poked my head in the shop to check the progress of the work. Now, California seems to offer some odd behavior in people from time to time. Some are actually creative, like the homeless guy I saw on a street corner in Oakland holding up a carboard sign with a drawing of a house with a circle around it and slash through it.  That guy deserved some dough based solely on creativity.  Anyway, the old saying goes “Californians are like breakfast cereal, once you take away the fruits and the nuts, you’re left with the flakes.” Upon entering the shop area, I saw about five or six mechanics standing around in a circle playing a “happy sack” game. For the uninitiated, the object is to kick a bean bag around and keep it in the air, not letting it fall to the ground. Depending on the agreed on rules, you can use any part of your body or just feet or hands. In a strange kind of way, it's like an aerial game of twister, without the big polka dot mat. Some are very good at it and can keep it up for hours. These wrench turners were giggling, screeching and carrying on like a bunch of school girls while playing the game. Maybe it’s me, but it seemed very odd to me in this setting. What's next? Hide and go seek around the trucks or pin the tail on the grease monkey. I hope they don’t add playtime to the hourly rate. So wonder they don’t want anyone in the shop area.

Once again, with the truck repaired and my skeletal frame preserved, it was time to move on. This time, it would be a layover in pleasant Ripon, California at a comfortable Pilot Travel Center. Finally, the ever present rain subsided and I could await a new opportunity in dry air. The next day, the Q-comm offered up a run to Salt Lake City, Utah. Ok, we’ll go there. Pick up would be back down to the Bay Area community of Hayward and delivery 800 some odd miles to the Salt Lake City Airport. My thought was `excellent’, I had been to the Salt Lake airport in September, so I have some familiarity to the place.

Back out on I-80, headed east, night fell and a return trip to Utah had begun. This time, I would travel a route I hadn’t been on yet, through northern Nevada. I didn’t know what to expect, although I have always pictured that part of the Silver State as a barren desert highway to the Beehive State.

At Truckee, California, as you prepare to climb over the Sierras, they have a check point where they ask you if you have chains for your truck and understand that there are hefty fines should you get stuck in snow. A toll type ticket is issued reiterating the warning in plain language.

This part of Interstate 80 wasn’t what I thought it would be. The terrain was continually hilly and mountainous. Winter temperatures replaced mild California air and evidence of an earlier snow fall blanketed the landscape. Daylight broke over Carlin, Nevada and I found myself stopping at a Pilot stop for some coffee. Upon entering, I chuckled to myself because I spied a rather large casino in the corner of the building. They will put a one armed bandit anywhere in this state. I wandered over to get a look and became mesmerized by the flashing lights and clanging bells familiar with a money grabbing operation of this type. Drivers stared at spinning cherries, numbers and bars. They mechanically poured coins in the slots with a determination to win.

With a fresh cup of coffee in hand, and some small talk conversation with the checkout clerk, I remarked at how chilly it had gotten since California. I said “it’s got to be about 28 degrees out there now.” Her reply was “it’s colder than that.” In the next instant, she picked up a phone and pushed a speed dial number. After a short while, she hung up and announced that it was 19. All of a sudden, I felt colder.

The early morning sunshine, yes, wonderful sunshine, glistened off the snow covered peaks framing long, expansive ribbons of highway winding around extensive grades off high lands leading to flat valleys. This part of Nevada was more picturesque than I was prepared for. So much for the dry and exclusively flat land I had imagined previously. I live for drama in the scenery on the road and this view was gift to me.

In little time, I was at the western Utah border and on the Salt Flats leading to the Great Salt Lake. The mountain peaks became more dramatic and increasingly snow covered. The native license plates carry the slogan “The Greatest Snow on Earth” and now I could see why. The summer mountains I saw here were rather craggy, brown and barren, but the snow covered version appeared magnificent in all their winter glory. Wow, I’m glad I got to come back this time of year.

I met Bob, my freight contact at the airport for delivery. This jovial 60ish man with thinning gray hair was anxious to get his special delivery on a Sunday afternoon. He led me to a remote part of the airport, a different way than I had been before because the Sundance Film Festival was beginning and hordes of celebrities were winging their way into town. Security was ramped up for all the commotion and Bob played down the importance of these people and the paparazzi that followed. I commented “I guess the Osmonds, if they’re going and resident Robert Redford are already here.” Bob chuckled, “probably so.”

The freight transfer was now complete and the obligatory papers signed which signals my “happy hour” so I pointed the Fat Cat to the big coffee pot sign in front of Sapp Brothers Truck stop not far off I-80. Trucker chatter on the CB recommended the stop as one of the best. I’m always apt to take a fellow trucker’s referral, so I was looking forward to somewhere different than a Pilot, Flying J or TA. My hope was the food would be good and the internet reception strong.