80 Days Out

June, marked the two year milestone of Long Haul Freight Expediting.
Merced, California was the place I was picking up in when the day arrived. The
thought crossed my mind, but I was too overwhelmed in the thought of the
business at hand and the impending 800 mile run to Fife, Washington to give
it much thought. Over two hundred thousand miles have found
their way under my belt since I left company orientation in Green, Ohio for
that very first run to Detroit.

In these first couple of years, I’ve actually driven four different trucks for
this company. A Hino, from the heavy duty truck division of Toyota, which had
a nice big oak sleeper berth, the short lived “Barney” Freightliner, the “Berry” Freightliner with the dog sled Mercedes motor and two separate tours in the Fatcat Freightliner, until I could wrest her back into my control. Under my command, she’s received three sets of headlights, three sets of
windshield wipers, various gauge bulbs, twelve tires, and a replacement of
pedal rubber and a laundry list of repairs that escalates all the way up to a
rear end assembly. That one wasn’t pretty. When it blew up and spewed fluid all
over the road, I was in Minneapolis where I coasted to the road shoulder next
to a cemetery. That one wasn’t my call. My fleet owner wanted me to limp it
into the repair shop. I would have towed it. But, I got a nice little vacation
in a hotel with a pool and a spa for four days out of the deal. The ‘Cat has
979,694 on the odometer, getting ready for her second million. With proper
maintenance and maybe one rebuild, the Caterpillar C-15 engine should go 3
million. Too bad they can’t make cars that last like that.

Along the way, I’ve had a couple of trainees, a couple of co-drivers, including one,
whom I almost stuffed out the window. He liked to slurp peaches out of can with
no spoon, which is fine with me as long as it isn’t within ear-shot. Among other
things, this fellow was the human equivalent of fingernails on a blackboard in other
very significant insignificant ways. Gordon Lightfoot once said that “being
satisfied is knowing I got no one else to blame.” That works for me.

The Fife, Washington run got shortened in Medford, Oregon. Because of a change
in delivery time, dispatch called and said I would have to transfer the load to a team
operation at a company facility. The pay remained the same, and I handed off to another
truck that could run the load non-stop to Washington. I was disappointed because I was
hoping to visit my old pal Dave in the Tacoma area. It’s the nature of the business. I’m
always in a fluid situation it seems. Time is either my best friend or my worst enemy. However,
I am grateful to have the opportunity to visit friends in just about every region of this
country. We are a far-flung generation and have put down roots everywhere, but where we're
from.
After a nice break in summertime weather which felt like springtime in Central Point,
Oregon, I weighed anchor and headed back to California for some runs in the
Bay Area starting with a special delivery to the University of California in downtown San Francisco. The highlight of that trip was seeing a homeless guy in Oakland on a
street corner, holding up a cardboard sign with a drawing of a house en-circled
with a slash through it. If I could have stopped, I would have given the guy a
buck for creativity.

At this point in time, the calendar was approaching the third month on the road. My runs had taken
me all over California. On this western swing, the road also led to Las Vegas, Nevada,
New Mexico and several places in Arizona. In Vegas, the 35 buck a night stay at the Lucky Club
with $9.99 steak and lobster plate enticed me in.  Two nights later a Braves win in the sports betting parlor nearly paid for my stay. Tucson, Arizona was a great stop, visiting my old friend KC.
The the day trip down to Tombstone was absolutely unforgettable. It was a "Bucket List"
accomplishment. The buffet at Casino Arizona in Phoenix was awesome and I had wild horses
running along the side the truck in St, Michaels. I spent a couple of cool nights sitting on a
hill overlooking the City of Albuquerque below. The Fatcat and I covered a lot of ground
entering all four continental time zones and 24 states. It was a successful journey, but I longed
to be home. Freight now took me back to California. My previous record time out was 64 days.
The soap rule wasn’t working (when I wear down a bar of soap, I consider it time to go home). Wearing down a brand new bar of Dove For Men was long enough to be on the road.  I was
almost out two bars at this point!

On the phone with dispatch, my contract coordinator and whoever else would listen,
I pleaded to at least get what they call a “Relocation” heading east. Kim, in the contractor
department finally offered me a move from Planning to Dallas, Texas. Just so you know,
Planning is like those bankers who sit in the dark on the show Deal or No Deal. You can
communicate with them, but you can’t talk to them. They’re just one of the Oz types at
the company. Now, I could gain two time zones and put on my Texas hat, 1,738 miles ahead.
Knowing that I would be in the Fort Worth area, I messaged my old friend Tom to
alert him that I would be in the area. He messaged me back that it would great to get
to together, but he was visiting his son in Georgia! My response was “I need to be in
Georgia!” Wow…how ironic is that. About a week later, I end up where he was in Columbus,
Georgia, about the same time he got home! Now, there’s some good timing. Dam.

I rolled down I-5 to begin my Relocation run and was able to stop in Castaic, just north
of LA, and load up on more Carnitas from Senor Jimenez at my favorite stop. The California
hills became the Arizona desert. The desert turned into the painted rocks and eventually the
high plains of New Mexico. The stockyards of Amarillo, Texas turned into the Metroplex of Dallas.
When you take Relocation from the company, you have to agree to stay in service and take a
load when you get to your destination. So, based on my experience, I knew I would run
around Texas for a few days until I could get any further east.

Monday, July 5th arrived and following several runs back and forth from Dallas to
Houston, I was awarded a trip to Jackson, Mississippi. My heart almost skipped a beat
when I crossed the mighty Mississippi at Vicksburg. In Jackson, the following day, the
company sent me several offers to go back to Texas. I politely declined them and
instead pointed the Fatcat toward home on I-20. Sweet Home Alabama turned into
the Georgia state line soon followed by the “Entering Eastern Time Zone” sign.
Eastern Time hadn’t been mine since April 30th.

On the 80th day away from home, I pulled the truck up behind my barn where
I could see Louie's little face and hear his high pitched bark along with little feline faces
peering out the window at this stranger pulling in. This trip had taken me from
Atlanta to as far north as Londonderry, New Hampshire and then directly 3,054 miles
to Gardena, California and back. I’m going to draw that route with all the stops on a large map
of the United States with a big red marker, frame it, and put it on the wall.