After the load was unloaded, I crossed
the bridge over the mighty Mississippi and stopped at a truck stop in
Memphis. Bruce and I were welcomed to Memphis by thunder and
lightening, and then it began to rain. The rain was heavy and
relentless. The rain would come in a downpour, and then become a
steady drizzle just long enough for the clouds to reload, and then
the next deluge would hit again. The waves of rain continued
regularly throughout the night. I asked someone from the area if it
rains a lot in Memphis. He said that it certainly does.
The storm not withstanding, I realized
one thing right away: I was no longer in the snow belt. I had to
quickly lose about three layers of clothing, and all but one layer of
warm bedding. Outside, the temperatures were in the 60's. Finally,
the next trip plan came over the computer. Interestingly, the next
trip was picking up a load where we had dropped our inbound load just
a few hours earlier, at the exact same warehouse. Our next load
assignment was to new load to Lebanon, Tennessee, which is just a few
miles east of Nashville. The loading process for our outbound trailer
was slow, and we weren't loaded till nearly eight hours later. To
arrive at Lebanon by 6AM, I had to be on the road by about 2Am, so
off into the stormy night we went.
I love the south! Our route on I-40
took us over the massive Mississippi and directly past the stunning
skyline of Memphis at night. On the other side of the city, the
interstate was less busy and through fog, rain, and inadequate
headlights, I could see that we had entered hill country. The trees
alongside the road grew tall and thick. I wished I could be making
the drive during daylight hours and see the beauty of the hills of
Tennessee.
There was a long line of trucks waiting
to enter the warehouse facility where I was to unload. One by one,
drivers would pull forward to the guard shack, get out of the truck,
and stand there at the window fo the guard shack doing all the
paperwork in order to be let inside. The process seemed to be taking
an unusually long time. Finally, it was my turn, and I got out of the
cab with my paperwork and walked up to the window to the guard shack.
“Smoker 52” the lady at the counter said into a CB microphone.
Probably in her mid sixties, she was slow and meticulous. In the
pre-dawn darkness, she held up a magnifying to the paperwork so that
she could see it more clearly. Information had to be written down and
transferred from one form to another.
When she addressed me, I immediately
fell in love with her accent. What was it...? Not quite southern, not
really Hillbilly, but her kind, pleasant, and warm demeanor matched
the accent perfectly. Sweet and friendly are how I would describe
her. I didn't mind one bit. I wished I could have stayed and chatted
with her. She assigned me door 37. As I was leaving, I heard her key the CB radio mike and announce in her down-home accent: "Smoker 37". Well, at least now I knew what that meant.
At the warehouse, I discovered a very
challenging backing situation. I was to back into door 37 but there
were already trucks backed up to the two joining docks at 36 and 38.
To make matters more challenging. The area to maneuver for backing
was very small, which essentially made each backing maneuver an
'alley dock', basically a 90 degree angle back into the open dock.
For me, personally, this a very challenging backing situation, one
part science, one part art, and one part experience. I have none of
any of those. One reason I find these backing situations difficult is
because in these warehouses with tight backing space, while one truck
is backing into a dock, all other traffic comes to a halt, and
everyone stops and waits for the truck to complete the backing
maneuver. So, not only is the pressure on to back into a very tight
space without hitting anything else, one must also do so quickly,
while all the other drivers are waiting, watching, evaluating,
criticizing, and then no doubt complaining when you start taking too
long. When I am in a difficult situation and feeling rushed by
others, the pressure mounts dramatically. It's just the way
my mind works.
My first attempt started out well, but
the trailer was too close to the truck nearest to me. I decided to
abort the attempt with literally only about two inches of space
between the two trailers. Next attempt I pulled further ahead and
started backing. One of the things that makes such backing difficult
is that once the trailer has begun to pivot, it is nearly impossible
to see how much clearance you have on the right-hand side, or the
“blind side” of the truck. As the rear of the trailer entered
into the space between the two trucks, things looked okay on my side,
but I couldn't see the clearance on the blind side. So, I exited the
truck, and walked back to the rear of the truck to take a look.
I asked the guy who was sitting in dock
36 if he wouldn't mind to watch my blind side and let me know if I
was getting too close to his truck. I recognized him from the shipper
I had just come from. He had also been loading there. He was
extremely kind, and very helpful to me. Older than me, and obviously
very experienced, he was only too happy to help. His assistance is
one of those moments in my trucking career that I will never forget.
As soon as I was backed up, the next
truck in line pulled up and was attempting to back into a slot near
me in exactly the same conditions. Since I had been the recipient of
such kindly assistance, I felt to return the favor. I jumped out and
asked the driver if I could be of help. She was a new driver like me,
about my age, from Idaho Falls, Idaho, and she had a load of
potatoes. She said that these types of backing situations always made
her nervous, and that she wasn't very good at them. I assured her
that I felt the same way. I'm afraid I'm probably didn't render
nearly as helpful assistance as that of the kind gentleman was who
assisted me, but soon, she had her truck backed up to her dock. By
now, the sun had begun to light the sky, and with the new day, and
the stress of tight backing maneuvers completed, things were good.
As I sift through the events of the
last few days, I am reminded that certain angels have unawares helped
in my undertaking of this career change. While he only stood at the
rear of the trailer and motioned me to continue backing, something in his kind and gentle manner are what I recall. He will never
know that I will never forget him. He was a true gentleman. He
will never know that I will never forget him. I never asked his
name. As a professional driver with years of experience, he's
probably forgotten about the whole thing already. So I've decided
that I never know when I may by chance---completely unaware---be an
angel for someone. As I sit here in the cab of my truck writing
this entry. A brand new, shiny red Volvo backed up into the space
next to me. The driver was a little lady, gray hair, couldn't have
weighed 100 pounds. Since most trucks are all the same length, when
you are backed up next to each other, it's easy to look out your
window and see the driver next to you. As she shut off her truck and
glanced my way, I smiled and waved. Her face lit up and she smiled
and waved back to me. Once she walked around to my side of the
truck, I asked her how she liked being a truck driver. She said that
she loved it. After a while, she rolled the windows down and blasted
blues music and started to do a little dance. She was having a good
time. Whether my smile and wave had anything to do in prompting her truck stop dance, I don't know. I doubt it. But dear reader, please smile at someone today. They may not even smile back. I have missed countless opportunities when I felt that I should have smiled, said a kind word, stopped and let a car into my lane in front of me. I'll try to do better. Will you join me? You wouldn't want to miss a chance to be an angel; would you?
The next load plan came right away. We
were to headed further south into Dixie by taking our empty trailer
down to Atlanta, Georgia, and pick up a load of groceries, and we are
now headed back to northern Indiana with our load.
For three days, I've been reading the
constant stream of notices on the computer about bad road conditions
and drivers on hold throughout California, Oregon, Idaho and
Washington. Some drivers had been sitting there for three days
waiting out the storm. In my mind, I could picture the driving snow,
the ice built up on the windshield, the cold temperatures inside the
cab. I looked out the cab of my truck. People were wearing shorts. I
have the windows down to stay cool, and I just took a walk---in a
T-shirt.
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| Highlands of Georgia. |
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| There's always grass in Kentucky. |
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| Parked in Kentucky, washed clean by the rains of Georgia and Memphis. |
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