This Ain't My First Rodeo

One of the questions I'm often asked is "how often do you go home?" Not as often as I would like is how I usually answer. In reality, it varies from twenty to thirty days on the road. The longest I've been out was last October to November at a grand total of thirty three days. Since the beginning of the year, I've been through fourty five states and numerous and diverse destinations. The days generally "blur" together as I travel through multiple time zones and climates. I have to keep referring to my watch to keep track of what day it is. The company uses Eastern Time in the twenty four hour military mode exclusively to limit confusion. Thank goodness for that or it would be a real adventure adding and subtracting hours. Personally, I stick with Eastern Time, unless I'm on the west coast for an extended period of time. Then, I ease my personal schedule to Pacific or Mountain Time. Freight pickup and delivery always goes by Eastern Time. One sure-fire method for determining when it's time to go home is my "soap rule". When I begin a trip out, I always start with a new bar of soap. When that bar of soap wears down to a thin wafer, then I know it's definitely time to go home!

After practically living in Ohio for weeks, the Q-comm flashed Texas, and I was happy to oblige. Springtime would surely be springing there! Blinding sunshine, bright blue skies and 70 degree temperatures would most definately greet me in the Lone Star nation. It was time to bust it down to Texas on a series of interstates to the vernal light at the end of the tunnel.

This journey, took me once again, past the Corvette Assembly Plant and Museum in Bowling Green, Kentucky. Someday, I'm actually going to stop there and see all those 'Vettes. It kills me to pass up that place. I have visions of seeing more vintage roadsters than a grown man is supposed to witness without drooling on a hood and ruining a perfectly good McGuire polish. One day, I will go when time isn't my enemy.

The highway droned on passing through Tennessee, around Nashville and Music City was lit up in nighttime magnificence as I made the right hand turn to I-40 then, on to Memphis. The Volunteer State became Arkansas then Little Rock turned into the border wonder of Texarkana and finally to the promised land on the prairie, some one thousand miles at the end of the line.

It felt good to be back in Texas and springtime in all her glory was in session. My first destination would be McKinney, on the north side the Metroplex..Dallas that is. This delivery had three stops, all concrete manufacturing plants. This dispatch would be another challenge because there was no loading dock, just an open area with machinery and a steady stream of mixer trucks pouring in and out of the warm and dusty landscape. I popped out of my cab and surveyed my prospects for the drop losing my hooded sweatshirt in the process. On board, I had three huge containers encased in a metal cage with a chemical needed for the concrete product. The fellows greeted me with an obligatory Texas howdy and assured me there would be no problem removing their goods from my cargo hold. The next thing I see is Jose bounding over in a bucket dozer to cue up behind the Fat Cat. I let out a breath of air and privately hoped these guys knew what they were doing.

Two other hardhats joined us and we plotted the logistical maneuver to take the big square off my truck. After some strategic strapping and jostling we were able to get the goods into the bucket and on the ground without exploding thousands of gallons of who knows what all over. Only two more times of this and I get to go to buffet near the truck stop. After being here three times previously, I know this town. This ain't my first rodeo in Dallas.

Back at the Pilot Truck Stop I always stay at, I met Rick, another driver from my company who calls the Columbus area of Ohio home. He was young at twenty something and displayed exuberance for trucking I love to see. We were both now layed over and had a good time trading stories and exchanging tips about how to work the company. I learned a few new tricks and a couple things I didn't know. Rick has been with them longer and I was appreciative for his knowledge. He also had a little more "dwell" time than me and was awarded the big money New Jersey run over me. That's ok, I'll just stay here and soak up a little more of this nice weather as a consolation prize.

The company has a thing called a "Less Than 75". If you do a short run for them, they will put you way up in front of the line for a load opportunity. I took a short load from Dallas over to Mansfield and became a smiling and shining "Less Than 75" man. Such accomplishments. Being at the front of the line was kind of a bittersweet feeling. It meant that I would probably be blown out of Texas as fast as I blew in. But, I did have three great days in the big one.

Sure enough, the Q-comm rang up a run I couldn't refuse to Romulus, Michigan, right next to the Detroit airport. My prospects now were a return back to winter. This would be my third trip to that exact location. Now it was time to ready up that pile of winter clothes at the end of my bunk. I knew right away from the destination of Romulus that this would be a transfer to another truck headed to Canada. I've got all the papers to go all the way myself, but my fleet owner won't govern the throttle on the truck, which is mandatory for travel in Canada. That's ok, I don't need a slower truck and I'll pass on that bunch of Gestapo’s at the crossing to Ontario I encountered earlier. They told me there was a dungeon there for detaining rule violators. I don't intend on breaking any rules, but they looked like they would try real hard to find something to give themselves something to do.

It would be a voyage back up through Arkansas, a corner of Missouri, over the mighty Mississippi into Illinois, east on I-70 around Indianapolis and up I-69 to Michigan where I saw lots of people skating and fishing out of little holes on a lake just over the state line from Indiana. I was right about the winter part. Constantly passing time zones is one thing, but experiencing slide show seasons is yet more confusion to the body. I'm confident it will be springtime everywhere, eventually. But, eventually, this year might be a long, long time.