An Average Week

This was not Schneider's fault. They had given me a day and a half in which to deliver this load, which was completely reasonable for the mileage. But I'd been home for a couple of days, and whenever I start out from home, it seems to take me for freaking ever to get going. And, by the time I got to the Tonopah Hot Springs off I-10, just about 60 miles west of Phoenix, I was too tired to drive. I thought taking a quick soak would substitute for a longer nap, but it just made me sleepier. Then I figured if I napped for a few hours…so I set my alarm clock, but slept through its going off. The next thing I knew it was day. April Fool's day, and I still had over 800 miles to run.

Irony, He Wrote

I don't like to awaken to the alarm clock. I've studied the human sleep cycle a bit, and experts agree that if you have to be awakened, you didn't get enough sleep. People can build up a sleep deficit of up to 14 hours; after that, it comes out of your health and creativity. I don't have enough of either to spare; so I make sure I get enough sleep.

Blue Volvo

About six months ago, I was picking up a load from Reckitt Benckiser, just outside of Phoenix, when my attention was drawn to a beautiful, shiny, blue Volvo truck. Its driver was coupling to a trailer next to the one I was getting. The driver, a dark-haired guy in his thirties, I guessed, had a few white streaks in his hair and a four-inch long goatee. We got to talking, and talked for almost an hour-and-a-half, about UFOs, mostly—he had seen one with his brother, in an episode that included some missing time—but also about his kid, and ex-wife, and my kids and ex-wife, and my husband, Michael, and the fact that he didn't want a partner, and so on and on. This was his first week driving for Schneider, and he was interested in whatever insights I might have into driving for the company, though I'd only been there a couple months, myself. By the time I finally returned to the office for the paperwork I needed for the truck, the woman there thought I had experienced missing time. Where the heck were you? she asked. I thought you'd left without your paperwork.

Bathroom Breaks and Other Delays

I'm actually more concerned with the paper dust. Having picked up loads at paper mills, I am aware of the chemical warnings posted there. Paper isn't just made of wood; there are a lot of chemicals, some of them nasty, involved in its manufacture, as well. Add to that the chemicals that make Pampers absorbent, Wet Naps wet, and Charmin charming, and you have an aerosol soup that can't be a treat for the lungs.

I Think, Therefore I Amble

With a very heavy load of cardboard from Port Townsend, Washington, I headed back to the L.A. area. Another moderately long run, which is a good thing. The loading hadn't taken very long, and the trip down the I-5 corridor is uneventful. I filled the time with an audio book version of Even Cowgirls Get The Blues by Tom Robbins. This is a terrific tale of a young woman who is the world's greatest hitchhiker. For her, it becomes an art form and a reason for being. She hitchhikes for the pure joy of it, not particularly to get anywhere. She simply enjoys the motion.

Timeslip

In my truck, I turned on the CB to the specified channel and lay down to take a nap. Four o'clock came and went. Five o'clock came and went. Sometime in between, they must have called the other Schneider driver because he and his truck were now gone. At six o'clock, my truck was finally called and I started it up. Docking was fairly easy, since I knew the place was unreasonably tight and I took my time. I probably took fifteen minutes to do it, but I didn't hit any of the boulders they inexplicably have blocking the loading docks, and found myself perfectly aligned with the dock door when I was done. I returned to my bunk to await loading.

Michael Comes Too

Michael, my husband, is going to spend two weeks with me as my passenger. Finally, finally, he is going to see what it's like to be a truck driver.

Levels of Awareness

Winnemucca has more to recommend itself to straight guys than it does to a gay couple such as Michael and me. That's because it lies within one of the several Nevada counties in which prostitution is legal. However, I've been told that none of the Nevada brothels offer the services of gentlemen. Only ladies are available, as the women who man the CB at the various establishments make clear. They're on CB channel 19, and as unwary truckers rumble into town soon learn, there are Twelve! (or eight, or six) beautiful ladies to choose from!. Exactly what one is expected to do with these ladies is left to the drivers' imaginations, though the CB ladies will hold two-way conversations.

The Homecoming

I had asked for a guaranteed time at home. This is somewhat different from time at home, which we also have to ask for. If I request time at home for, say, next weekend, I might get home on Friday, or Saturday, or Sunday, or even Monday. Time at home is approximate.

But guaranteed time at home is supposed to be different. It's used for doctor appointments, or court dates, or birthday parties. Schneider drivers are limited to six of them a year. I'd had one back in January or February for a doctor appointment. Now, I asked for another one, for May 16th, for two reasons: Michael had to be back home in time for his first class at Glendale Community College on Monday, and our grandson, Zachary, was having his fourth birthday party.

Miracles

Another Schneider truck pulled into the lot, almost too late, I thought. The driver got out and walked to the office, his shoulders sunken, the picture of misery. Lord, I thought. I wonder if he just found out they're going to make him drive another year before he can quit. I continued to work on my messages, and then updating my driver's log and journal on my laptop, as he exited the office, found his trailer, coupled to it, and returned to the office for the paperwork. Since the office was still open, I decided to make a last-minute pit stop before leaving for California. I nodded to the driver as I passed him and went into the bathroom. He was waiting for Jeff, the office guy, on the other side of the glass window. But, while I was in the bathroom, I heard a sound from outside. I swear, it sounded like the driver was sobbing!

The Spirit Trail

I had to check out of the motel at noon, but the first shuttle of the day leaves the motel at 2:00 PM. So I had brunch at the International House of Pancakes next door, then returned to the motel lobby to wait. The clerk was a man who looked frighteningly like Gene Rayburn, that host of the 60s TV show, The Match Game. When I had checked out, he expressed interest in my last name. That sounds like an Indian name, he said. What tribe do you belong to?

Justice

I had spent the previous several days running up and down the I-5 corridor, running mostly relayed loads to and from here and there. Shafter, Los Angeles, Porterville, Fontana, Woodland, Modesto…basically, the breadbasket of California. I didn't complain. I knew they were keeping me in the area because I had a court date in Fowler scheduled for…today.

Man vs. Machine

In the beginning, man (and woman) didn't need machines. Our ancestors did just fine, thank you, with the occasional twig or rock. As she does for all her children, the Earth provided all we could eat, just for the picking. See the lily of the field, the Gospel says. Not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed as finely as one of these. But that didn't stop us from trying to gild the lily.

Options

After spending the night at the Schneider drop yard in Auburn, Washington (a facility I like because it's usually not crowded, it's quiet, and it includes a building with a shower), I spent the day getting giant rolls of paper from a mill in Tacoma. The first load they sent me for, was a relay load; I returned it to the Auburn drop yard for someone else to take to New Jersey. I was a little envious; I could have used a nice long trip like that. But they gave it to an owner-operator who asked my advice on how to best get to the Garden State.

Another Lean Week

Driver wisdom says you get more miles, and therefore more money, if you don't go home. Ever. Now, I'm not sure exactly what driver's wisdom is being referenced, here. Everyone buys into the idea now; but who is the first person to think of it? I don't know. Perhaps he retired off the huge amount of money he made by never being home.