Three weeks in a submarine

I've never been in a submarine. I have friends who served aboard submarines, and frankly, I admire anyone who has been or are submarine sailors. Since I've never been in a submarine, my comparison is only what I imagine, but I have to believe that being part of a team of two drivers in a modern semi truck must have  at least some resemblance to life aboard a submarine.

First of all, the two truckers live inside a small compact space with two chairs and two bunk beds, a 

small area for closets, refrigerator, and food storage, and that's all.  The engine of the truck is running,or else the refrigeration.unit on the trailer, the "reefer" is running, and so the vehicle sounds of machinery, and the vibration of nearly constant movement.

Jon was an excellent, caring trainer and taught me many things which I use practically every hour. For that, I am grateful. I now wonder if my occasional ideas of becoming a trainer might be misplaced. I am, by nature, a solitary creature. Being pleasant, quiet, and thoughtful are innate personality traits of mine; it is therefore a chore for me to interact with people, particularly people I don't know well. Sometimes, it's hard for me to accept criticism, even good and wise counsel.

I knew from the very beginning to anticipate that my time with my trainer---no matter how good or challenging the trainer himself may be---that for me, it would be somewhat of an ordeal. Jon had to be present when I took all of my testing to "solo-out" and therefore be eligible for my own truck. As Jon stood there, watching me go through the nearly four hour process of testing and qualifying, it reminded me of years before, looking outside the window of the small airplane I was flying to the small figure of my flight instructor, standing beside the runway below. I could see him looking up at the plane flying overhead, and preparing to land.  I imagined that he must have had at least some small amount of concern that everything was going to go well with his student's first solo flight.
I'll be ever grateful to Jon for helping me learn many important things and giving me courage to grow and become a truck driver.

Our first day out, Jon had me drive after about an hour. I got us onto I-70 eastbound and we headed towards Kansas. We drove until it was dark, and stopped at a truck stop in the eastern plains of Colorado. For mid-September, the night was unusually chilly. Jon's plan was to arise at 3am and get an early start to the day. That way, we'd have a better chance of getting parking as our day ended.

I lay in my bunk bed and tossed and turned. Here I was in a truck stop in the middle of nowhere in the Colorado plains. My family, friends, church, all things that I held dear were now hundreds of miles away. I couldn't escape the horrible feeling that I had abandoned them all. 3am seened like an awfully early hour to arise. How would I ever fall asleep now that the pressure to do so was on? Somewhere near midnight, my worries and sadness succumbed to my fatigued brain and its need for respite.

We made our way eastward through Kansas then Missouri. I drove through much of Kansas and the freeways of Kansas City. Onward our journey pushed through Kentucky and then we were in the mountains of West Virginia. The mighty rivers of the midwest, the fields and forests of Kentucky, and the misty mountain valleys of West Virginia all passed by. My anxieties while driving  waxed and waned, sometimes for no reason apparent to me.

From Virginia, we made a return trip back to Colorado, basically a reverse of the course we had just taken.  When we arrived back in the Colorado terminal, Jon was out of hours on his federally mandated 'hours of service' and could drive no longer without the required 34 hour rest.  Rather than stay in the truck, I took the opportunity to use some of my hotel points and stayed in a nearby hotel.

Monday morning, we were back in the truck, waiting for the Qualcomm bird to chirp, announcing our new load, and soon, it arrived. We were to pick up a load of mattresses and take them to two furniture stores. One store located in Casper, WY, and the other near Billings, MT. The mattress load only weighed about 20,000 lbs, a very light load compared to the heavy loads of beer that we had been hauling.

We awoke in the morning at our truck stop in Casper, WY and headed over to the furniture store to deliver.  It was my turn to drive, and quite the challenge awaited. We discovered upon arrival that the loading dock was around back, and the only way to back to the loading dock was to back from the Walmart parking lot across the street, cross the street (backing very slowly) trying not to hit any of the early morning commuters who were apparently coming from a Starbucks nearby.  Then, having backed across the street, backing down an alley and then making a blind ninety degree turn.  There were moments when Jon and I both wondered aloud and internally whether this truck would ever fit.  Finally, after several attempts and running over the curb several times, the truck was backed up to the dock and they began unloading.  The store manager's reassurance that this was the hardest dock of all their stores was little comfort during this stressful exercise.

Next, we unloaded in Billings, Montana, a town I knew well from my insurance travels.  Then, we headed to Pennsylvania with a load of liquid foam insulation which had to be maintained at a certain temperature.

Our next dispatch came through, and it was soon cancelled, anther came through and was cancelled, and finally, the third dispatch arrived...sending us with a load of beer back to Denver. The reason for the last-minute changes was finally apparent when they called Jon and asked, or rather implied, that the it was time for me to come in and "solo out" or in other words, go through the testing process to see if I qualified to have my own rig, and be out on my own.

The trip back to Denver was a rather sober one as we tried to review everything I would be tested on.

Field in Indiana

                                                             

Cheese in Wisconsin, where else?

                                                     

Kentucky hay harvest, in the rear view mirror

                                       

Mountains of Western Virginia

                                             

The curb I had to drive over, and the utility pole, I just barely missed, backing into the blind alley in Wyoming...