Watch yer tail

Sitting across from a warehouse next to the sea, watching sailboats go by. They seem to be crewed by people who know just a little more about sailing than I do--but since I know next to nothing about sailing, maybe I'd better shut up.

Maneuvering one of these monsters is strange enough. There's something about driving a vehicle that feels as if it's thirty or forty feet long and is actually more like eighty or ninety. My company trainer spent the whole time we were together waiting for me to hook something with the back of the trailer, or crush something with the side of it. It's a common problem, he said. Anybody who's used to four wheels forgets to watch the back corners. But he sure looked nervous (or got loud) every time we were in close quarters.

In a way, it's worse than driving a bus or a big truck. With those, you at least FEEL the length of your vehicle. A semi bends in the middle. You feel as if you're just steering the tractor, and the trailer's following along. But it isn't, exactly.

Imagine if you swiveled with the front tires in your van. It wouldn't be obvious where the back tires were, would it?

If you crank it over hard enough, you can end up with the cab at ninety degrees (or more) to the trailer, and the whole thing swivelling around the back wheels. Handy in a tight space. But stop and think about that. It's quite possible to drive in a complete circle without moving the back of the trailer at all. So what happens if you take a tight corner that way?

Can you say "Crunch," boys and girls? I knew you could.

In parking lots and warehouse areas I tend to go slow. When I turn I go slower. And I look in the mirrors at least as much as I do in front of me, seeing where the back of the trailer is. Finally. My trainer would be relieved.