Stress

As I sit here writing down the events of my first trip, I realize that it was one stressful crisis added to the next. I suppose I had a notion that a brand new driver would somehow be eased into the unique stresses and rigors of the job, but that notion was quickly set aside. It was time to sink or swim.

My first load unloaded at a refrigerated warehouse that was interestingly enough built into the side of a mountain at the site of an abandoned quarry (see photos below). I arrived on time, and was told to back into door #7. Unfortunately, door #7 seemed to be cluttered with other trucks in the staging area, so I had to do my best to pull out and back in. It took a couple of rookie tries and missteps, but eventually, the truck was backed successfully up to the door. While the truck was being unloaded, the bird chirped and I had my next 'pre-plan'. When I read it, it really made no sense to me. It said for me to take the empty trailer that was being unloaded to Wisconsin for loading at 5pm. 5 pm in Wisconsin, and I'm here in Missouri? I got on the phone to my driver manager and explained that I didn't think that I could make it from Missouri to Wisconsin in a couple of hours, not to mention the fact that I wasn't actually unloaded yet. Even though it was quiet in the cab of my truck, I could still picture the phone calls and e-mails that must have been flying as they tried to figure out what to do about me, my schedule, and this load of frozen vegetables in Wisconsin. Finally, just as the load was unloaded, my driver manager called back with final instructions. Once unloaded I was to go ahead and head off to Wisconsin and get as far as I can tonight, and then be there by 7am tomorrow morning. Trip planning seemed to be such an important part of this job, but I always seemed to have so little time to do this critical part of my job.

Out came the Rand McNally Trucker's Atlas, and the map program on my smart phone and I plotted my journey to Wisconsin and its frozen vegetables. To get there by 7am, it was obvious that I'd need to make as many miles today as possible, and park for the night somewhere in northern Illinois. This meant driving into the darkness and battling one of my biggest concerns: finding parking (that I can back into) at night. The interstate north was narrow and busy with lots of traffic. I begin to pass truck stops and resist the urge to pull in and secure parking while it's available. Up ahead is my target truck stop. I hope and I pray that I can find parking. The overhead signs on the interstate indicate traffic backed up due to an accident ahead. This is really bad news. Finally, the exit for the truck stop is just ahead and I take the exit, hoping that there's a place I can park, because I really don't have a Plan B. To my dismay, the truck stop is small with just one row of parking --- maybe a dozen trucks at most, but to my relief, there is a spot available with an easy back into. No sooner had I turned the engine off, than a steady stream of trucks begins to flow into the small truck stop. I went into the truck stop to buy a cold drink, and heard someone at the checkout mention that the interstate was closed just ahead due to the accident, and that everyone was coming off the highway to park. I had arrived just in time.

I head north from Missouri into Illinois. Get lucky on a parking space. Early next morning, at the shipper, but wrong one. Turn into the next driveway. Go there, no one there. Go into the office, and it's dark. Inside I can see a hispanic woman cleaning, mopping the floor. She has no idea how to help me, but goes and finds a guy. He says to go to the shipping office. I explain that I did go to the shipping office, and it's dark. He calls around on his radio, and finally finds a guy who will come and help me. The guy shows up finally, takes me out the front door to the mailbox by the front door, and opens it up. Inside, is all the paperwork that I need.

I go and unhook my empty, and locate and hook up to the loaded container. I was told to always stay on the company provided routing. Well, the routing had me leaving this location and headed across the border from Wisconsin to Illinois on a county road which had a weigh station located on it. I really didn't want to go over the weigh station where I could potentially receive a large fine for overweight load without weighing my load first. So, I go back to the office and ask if they have a scale. Yes, they do it just takes $5. After I get hooked up, I go to the scale, and unfortunately in my wallet is four $1 bills and a $20. There are two guys working in the yard next door so I go ask them if they have change. They don't. Back I go to the office and I begin asking around the employees if there's a change machine or if anyone has change for a $20. No one does.

I get on my smartphone app, and find a truck stop about 20 miles away that's on the freeway, but off-route. I try to call dispatch to get permission to go off-route and get weighed, but it's a Saturday, and getting someone on the phone is nearly impossible, so after waiting and waiting, I make an executive decision as captain of the ship that I will go and get weighed at the truck stop in spite of the fact that it's off-route. Getting weighed is a bit of an ordeal, because you have to go ovre the scale, then find a place to park, and then go inside and get your scale ticket. After backing into another tight space, I go in and get my weigh ticket, and then move the tandem axles around to get the trailer load balanced.

Then, I go down the street one exit to where I have been given a fuel stop. Finally, after that's all done, I head towards our terminal in Gary, Indiana. The only thing between me and our terminal is all the crazy freeways and highways of Chicago. Somehow, I manage to get through all the freeways, toll booths, take all the right exits and then follow the exact directions to get to our terminal in Gary, Indiana. It's tiny compared to Denver, and I had to back the loaded trailer into the only space left, and then back up to the only empty there for my next adventure.

Early the next morning, I go back up through all of the Chicago land highways, construction back up to another shipper near where I picked up my load yesterday, and drop my empty and pick up a load of frozen tater tots, and head to a town in southern Ohio for delivery. After driving I arrive early the next morning for my appointment, and have to park but I'm struggling. Finally, a kind guy gets out and helps me.

Finally backed up to the dock and they take several hours. Only to discover that one pallet of frozen tater tots has been rejected due to damaged cartons. I call the home office and explain my dilemma. They instruct me to find a dumpster and dispose of them. Sounds simple enough, right? But if you're a brand new truck driver in a large truck in a strange city, these instructions become more difficult. I call around to food pantrys to see if one of those will accept the donation and come and pick these up? Nope. None of them can come and get them, but one of them will accept the donation if I bring it to them. “Well, how far away are you?” I asked. Oh, not far, I am told just a couple of miles to downtown. I hate downtown driving! One-way streets, narrow streets, tight intersections, but what choice do I have? I put the address in my GPS and hope for the best. I arrive at the food pantry to discover that they can't unload my donation for about an hour or more. My driving clocks are running, and I'm going to be out of time fast, so I ask them if I can't just unload the product and bring it in myself? They finally relent and send a guy out with a load dolly and between the two of us, we get it unloaded fairly quickly.

My next problem is how do I get out of there and to my next location, Cincinnatti, OH. I happen to be parked right in front of a small hotrod shop, and there are a couple of kids working on a car. I go up and ask if they know of the easiest way I can get back out to the interstate but where there are no low bridges, or weight-restricted roads. One kid thinks a minute, and says yeah. Go out here, turn right, to to the next light, and make a left follow that road down, and it will take you right to the interstate.

By now, I have my Truckers' GPS and my phone GPS both going and when I get to the intersection to turn left, the truckers GPS says don't go, it's truck restricted, the phone GPS says I can go that way, but for some reason, it wants me to turn right, and not left, and so what is one to do when the light turns green? The kid seemed to sincerely know what he was talking about, so for this one time, I ignored the GPS guidance and took human advice. It worked perfectly!

On my way to Cincinnati, I realize that the closer I get to the city, that I'm not seeing any parking options at truck stops or anything for that matter, and I only have about one hour left on my clocks.

Suddenly, in answer to prayer, up ahead I see a Rest Area. I pull in, and grab one of the few parking spots left. At first I thought trucks weren't allowed to park for the night there, but I could see other trucks around me obviously there for the night. Another miracle parking spot!

Early the next morning, I headed to downtown Cincinnati to the beer brewery. Thankfully, at 5am the downtown was mostly deserted. A guy in the guard shack was super nice and gave me very helpful instructions about how to proceed. Once I was hooked up to my loaded container, I was now worried about how I could get out of town, and on my way. So many times the directions out of town are not always the reverse of the ones into town. Another trucker was just getting ready to go, and so I asked him if he was familiar with the way out of town. He was so nice. Get hoodked up he said, and you can follow me. Off we went and I followed him and was glad he was there to guide me through the construction zones and many exits to get out of town. Finally, he signaled to exit east while I was to keep north on my route. I flashed my headlights to say thank you, and he blinked his tail lights back at me in the usual trucker acknowledgement. Then, he went right, and I went straight. A friend who had helped and I would never see again.

A refrigerated warehouse, in a mountain. My first delivery!

The Tater Tots left behind.