My first load

My First Journey

After I passed my solo out tests, I went home for a few days. Something that troubles me with this new job is the extended time away from family. I miss them terribly. It was nice to be home, even if it was just for a few days.

I said my goodbyes and made the five hour drive back to the terminal in Denver. My daughter had given me some photos of my family to post in the truck. She'd helped me pack some of my bags. Unloading, and getting everything stowed in the truck and seeing the photos, only made the missing of my family worse. Nevertheless, here I am back in the terminal to spend the night in the truck, and then the next morning, waiting for my first official load. The anticipation was incredible. Finally, the bird chirped and I had my first load.

I was hoping my first load would not be a beer load and it wasn't. It was a Live load (meaning you back up to the loading dock and wait for them to load your trailer) at a refrigerated foods warehouse and take the load to a small town just outside St. Louis, MO. With my trainer, I'd been up and down I-70 several times, so this would be covering somewhat familiar territory.

I wasn't supposed to load however till 4 in the afternoon, so I spent time carefully mapping out my route to the shipper, and trying to figure out a route back to the shipper in case I missed the turn.

I was so proud of myself when I pulled up to the shipper about 25 minutes ahead of time. I could see some people in a parking lot who were employees and they told me to pull around to the back of the warehouse, find a place to park, and then go inside the shipping office for further instructions. When I got around the backside of the building however, my heart sank. All the parking was very tight. Just the type of scenario I was afraid of. I found a spot and made several very awkward attempts to back in, finally getting parked. It was frustrating for my inexperience to show in front of some many who made it look easy.

I went and checked in on time, and was told they would call me when they had a loading dock for me to back up to. They did say that they were running behind. I went back to my truck and waited and waited. I chose to sit in the seat of the truck and watch other trucks come and go. I wanted to see how others handled the backing into tight docks and tight parking spaces.

Nightfall came and hours passed, and still my phone didn't ring. Eventually, I went back and laid down on my bed with the phone on my chest. I awoke around to the sound of a heavy rain. It was a cold night, and I was expecting the rain to turn to snow. At 1 am, my phone rang. They had a door for me. Fortunately, it wasn't a super tight fit, and I was able to swing around and do a straight-back into the door. Then, more waiting. Occasionally, I would feel the rocking of the truck as a forklift entered the trailer and brought a load of pallets. Finally, around 4am, I was loaded.

My load was a load of gluten-free products. I was diagnosed with celiac disease many years ago, and in the years since, I have probably purchased a semi-load of frozen gluten-free products myself! I made my way back to the Denver terminal where I parked. My daily clocks were all nearly out of time so my only choice was to take the mandated 10-hour rest. I slept only a couple hours and awoke in the early afternoon. I wanted to get on the road as quickly as I could. At this late hour, finding parking along I-70 would be a challenge. I just wanted to get out of town.

First however, I had to fuel and the assigned truck stop nearby. I hate this truck stop. It is small, hard to get into and hard to get out of. After using up valuable time fueling, I got back into Bruce and took the exit out of the truck stop. To exit out of the truck stop, you enter a small road that is built directly under the elevated I-70 above, so giant pillars supporting I-70 are everywhere and it was dark underneath, making it almost seem like a subway.

The only time I'd been here with my trainer, we had continued on I-70 westbound, and so I knew how to do that, but there were no signs anywhere to indicate how to go I-70 eastbound. I decided to go the same way as the westbound freeway entrance, and see if I could see an entrance ramp. I pulled out into what seemed like the underground labyrinth and turned right. Should I be in the right lane or the left lane? Well, I know the westbound ramp is on the right lane, so I'll take that for now. No eastbound signs showed up, so I took went back around and through the truck stop again and back to the same exit. This time I turned right again, and got into the left lane. I came up to the intersection where I had turned right, and could see no I-70 eastbound signs so reluctantly, when the light turned green, I continued on through the intersection. Up ahead, in the darkness of the underground street, I could see bright yellow signs above the road. This could only mean one thing: Low clearance signs!! Oh no! On my first trip, I wasn't even going to get out of Denver, but stuck beneath I-70 just in front of some low clearance signs with irate drivers behind me honking their horns and calling me every name in the book.

Then, out of nowhere my GPS that I had just purchased calmly said at the next intersection to turn left. Where had she been this whole time? I had no idea why she was no help before, and now suddenly, out of the blue, she springs to life with her routing advice...but I welcomed her help now, and so at her direction (really with no other alternative available) I turned left. She took me through a couple of narrow, harrowing intersections, but somehow, she got me back onto I-70 eastbound!

Finally, I was headed out of town and I felt better, but now for my next fear and concern: parking. At this late hour, (darkness was already settling in) all the truck stops would be full. Where was I going to park? I remember stopping with my trainer at a small town in eastern Colorado at a small town truck stop with lots of parking. Surely, I thought, truckers would pass that place by and continue onward looking for the big well-marked truck stops.

It was around 8:30 at night when I came to the exit that I thought was the town. I took the exit, and as I came to the intersection, I realized that I didn't recognize anything. This wasn't what I was looking for. (I would discover later that the town I was looking for was actually 100 miles ahead in western Kansas.) Then, a miracle happened. Up ahead on the other side of I-70, I could see a semi truck parked in a large lot that looked like it was designed for trucks. I made my way over to the lot and backed up right next to the truck. (Big trucks seem to like to park next to each other for some reason). Then, I realized that it was probably rude of me with my reefer running to back up to this guy who was probably sound asleep and disturb his sleep with my noisy reefer unit where there was plenty of parking in this lot. So, I pulled up and moved to the other side of the lot. Just to protect myself, I went in to the Subway sandwich shop and asked if it was okay to park my truck here. The kid said it was okay. To show my gratitude, I told him I'd be back to order a sandwich soon as I was settled in. When I went back, the shop was closed.

So, I went back to my truck and went to bed. Early the next morning when I woke up, the other truck was gone, but another May truck was parked next to me. I went and introduced myself, and told him that this was my first night and morning on my own. I forgot his name, but he was very, very nice. His truck was just like mine, his GPS was like mine, so he took some time to give me lots of tips and pointers. He wrote his phone number down on a piece of paper, and I told him I might call him from time to time for advice. I went to the convenience store nearby to brush my teeth. When I got back, he had left. I reached in my pocket to save his number in my phone, and realized that the piece of paper was missing. I would never be able to thank him for his memorable help.

And so began and ended my first day as an official truck driver. I took off in the early morning hours headed into the Kansas darkness. The reality of my decision to be a truck driver was really beginning to smother me with fear and sadness.

When I'm at my end, when I've gone as far as I can go, and when I've gotten myself into a situation so far, so deep, and so wrong that there seems no way out, I feel instinctively to seek help from the only source who could provide hope at this point in my life, my Father in Heaven, my God. I can only imagine the times he has had to tell me, “Really, Vally?” “You get yourself into these impossible and distressing situations, and only turn to me when it's all but too late?” Yes, I'm sad to say that He does know my track record very well. But something happened that early morning as my headlights cut a narrow beam in the darkness, and the very first shades of dawn's light began to mark the sky ahead, suddenly, I wasn't alone in that truck. It was one of those moments that only a heart and a soul can truly comprehend, but I felt love, true love, almost like a heavenly hug. After I felt that I had disappointed and failed everyone in my life who loved me or depended on me with this career change decision, at the end of this road, nevertheless, I felt love and peace. It was what I needed to get through the challenges that lay ahead on my first trip as a truck driver.