...well maybe not gloom of night.

Me and my big mouth.

Last night I waxed eloquent about the joys of heading back southward. So of course I arrived to 30-degree temps and the first major snowfall Atlanta's seen in, um, a long time.

I stopped short of Atlanta, and I won't be taking the truck down there this week. Just as well. I was there for the first Snowjam, back in 1982.* I can skip this one, I think.

Can't sound too self-assured, of course. I haven't had to move one of these trucks in really bad weather yet. The company I work for doesn't send me very far west,** and so far I haven't been in a proper Northern snowstorm.

Fine by me. I've met a fair number of truckers who've told me they'll never put chains on their trucks unless forced to. If the roads are bad enough to demand chains, they shut down and wait till things get better. I'm with them.

We're legally required to carry chains in several states during the winter months. So during those months I have two or three hundred pounds of metal under my sleeper. But unless I get caught on top of the wrong mountain at the wrong time, that's where they'll stay. There are too many things about these monsters I'm still learning. Truly treacherous road conditions I'll leave to those who've had the practice.

If I'm going to laugh in the face of danger, I prefer to be sitting in a very safe place.
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*When over 5 inches of fell one afternoon, and every employer in the city sent everybody home at the same time--just as the snow started falling. Atlanta was full of stories that day. I might tell mine sometime, somewhere--but it doesn't involve trucking, so I guess I'll skip it for now...

**There are companies that don't consider me an over-the-road driver because of that. Real truckers cross real mountains...