Long day

Part the first
Detroit's rush hour isn't too bad from the south. I wasn't expecting that.

That 700 miles I mentioned in the last post turned out to be more like 800. And it included an extra stop on the way--the guy who came out to fix my trailer tire didn't have the equipment to replace the mudflap. By the time I got to a stopping place last night I had about four hours to make a run that would take exactly four hours.

If nothing went wrong.

Like traffic. Near the center of a large city at eight in the morning.

I pulled a couple of tricks to get here early enough to make a morning delivery. All strictly legal, mind you, but still, I was pushing things a bit. Other things slowed me down, so it's a good thing I took the precaution.

But there was no traffic to speak of. In a city the size of Detroit. Weird.

Now the southbound lanes looked like what I'd expected to run into. I guess I just don't know who lives where and goes whither.

No complaints, though.

Part the second
Got to the customer on time. The parking lot was overcrowded, but I did eventually manage to drop my trailer and hook an empty for the next run.

With a missing mudflap.

I hope this isn't a trend. Sitting at garages is not a good way to make money when you're paid by the mile.

Conclusion
Ice cream bars are messy.

Yeah, I know. Not a great revelation. Call it a truth that's come back to me.

I'm at your basic El Cheapo Deluxe fast-food table in a convenience store. A floor fan sits beside it, buffeting me gently (Dyson's Air Multiplier isn't likely to trickle this far down for a while...).

The fan is there because the store isn't air conditioned. Looking around, I suspect this is normal. The only vents I see are on what looks like a commercial-grade gas (or oil?) heater near the ceiling in one corner. The building itself is an open-plan steel prefab. Looking at the window, I gather it's double-walled, so I can hope the place is at least insulated. But I'll bet Ohio winters are still a bear.

It's warmer in here than outside--if outside includes shade and a breeze. Which it does, at times and in spots. But shade, a breeze, and a place to sit down--that's a much rarer combination.

So here I sit, sweating just a little, chasing the flies off every few seconds, and generally feeling as if I'd returned to one of those old general stores of my (very early) childhood. They're more pleasant to remember than to return to, but am I complaining?

Actually, no.

When I pulled in here, I was concerned. Which is a euphemism for "wondering how doomed I was." Getting that mudflap fixed in Detroit didn't take too long. But the trick I used to get the load to the customer on time this morning involved taking a legally required nap this afternoon. When I left Toledo, Ohio, I had about three hours of driving time left to me, and I knew of two truck stops on my route. One was nearby, the other a good hundred and fifty miles further on.

I wanted to make some miles tonight (rather like my fond hope in the previous post), but 150 miles in three hours on two-lanes was a bad bet. So I looked for the stop nearby.

It was a few miles north of here. On the Ohio Turnpike.

Not next to the Turnpike. On it. In one of the service plazas. And I had been explicitly told not to give the company's money to the trolls.

So what to do? Drive nervously into the gathering darkness, looking for a place to hide?

Well, any better ideas?

So I drove nervously into the gathering darkness, until I saw a little place with the sky-high overhangs that mark a set of truck-diesel pumps. No parking lot. But if they dealt with semi's, I thought, they might know who in the area would tolerate one parking for the night.

I found a corner where I could park my eighteen-wheeler without blocking the pumps and went inside. When the lady finished with her customer, I asked her where around here I could shut down for ten hours.

"Where're you now?"

I pointed.

"That'll be fine."

No complaints. None.