New excuse

31 OCTOBER 2013, 21:45 After two straight nights of putting off stopping until it was almost too late, I decided to lecture you on the dangers and temptations involved.
And then I did it again. Consistency is a virtue, right?

Here I am, in a parking lot that had maybe five empty spaces when I got here. Out of 150 or so. And at least two of those were unusable by anything much bigger than a UPS truck.* And by the time I squeezed into this spot (with help from both the drivers whose trucks were threatened) I had maybe 15 minutes left to legally drive. No backup plan.

It's not my fault. Really.

I got a fairly early start this morning, wending my way through the East Tennessee hills toward Knoxville. Passed a truck broken down on the shoulder, and spared a thought for the poor fellow.

Which is when the tire blew on my trailer.

At the time, I wasn't sure what had happened. The truck sort of bumped, and there was a puff of smoke or dust or something; but no shaking, no pieces of tread flying around and endangering innocent bystanders. I thought I might have run over something. And since ther was a rest area right there, I pulled in and parked to make sure nothing was damaged.

What I found was more or less the skeleton of a tire. And a steel mudflap bracket bent halfway into a hairpin by the departing tread.** And the reason I hadn't seen the tread depart? Well, it hadn't. Exactly. The tire that blew was on the inside of the wheel. And this time, instead of flying away, it had wrapped itself around the axle of the trailer. Two or three times. And then stuffed a couple of feet of itself into the brake drum.

Whoops.

When the road service truck arrived, it took nearly three hours to change that tire. Most of which we spent trying to get that tread out of the brake drum.*** I'd planned on a late breakfast at my fuel stop. I lunched instead.

And when my dispatcher asked me If I could get to the West Virginia border tonight to trade loads with someone--and thereby have a chance of getting home on time--I said "Sure, no prob." And remembered--two hours later--how much time I'd lost.
I hate screwing up appointments. So I pushed. And got here just in time to park. No harm, no foul, right?

Yeah. Sounds like "the dog ate my homework," doesn't it?
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*Just because a space is big enough to fit you doesn't mean you can use it. You've got to get into it first. And that depends on other things. Like what's front of it…

**Oddly enough, the mudflap itself wasn't damaged.

***Yes, "we." Even with crowbars and a carbide cutter, the service guy needed help. It was jammed in that tight.

It's not what you don't know...

30 OCTOBER 2013, 19:30
Sitting in a truck stop in East Tennessee, watching the other trucks go by.

Quite a few of them, really. It's only about seven, local time, and even in winter, most truck stops don't fill up until about eight. And yet here I am, in the second-to-last spot (as of when I arrived, that is). Five minutes later and I would have been wandering the night, watching my drive-time clock blink toward zero. I gave myself less than an hour to find a space. Plenty of them at this time of night, right?

That's twice this trip I've gotten in trouble that way. And I've only been on this trip for two days.

I left Laredo, Texas with this load yesterday, and more or less drove all day. (That is likely to be a habit with this load--two thousand miles or so to cover in less than four days. But I digress...) As the clock wound down, I headed confidently toward an exit near the Arkansas border. There I would find a truck stop listed in my handy pocket guide, find my proper place, and relax. No worries.

When I reached the exit, all was darkness. As I slowed and strained my eyes, I did see the sign. But the sign was not lit. As I came down the ramp I saw the store and the fuel pumps. Dark. To the right was a building that was lit, but what could it be?

Well, the clock was ticking. I kept going.

Past the silent fuel pumps lay the parking lot. Not fenced off, I was pleased to see. And a dozen other trucks already parked there. And the lit building was the restaurant.

Apparently, the truck stop had died, but the restaurant had lived. Usually it's the other way around. Next morning I figured out why. Breakfast was good. And well attended. Score one for local clientèle.

But my handy little book was out of date. And that could have gotten me in real trouble. And tonight I almost do it again, because I got cocky about the time.
I've got to be more careful.

(Oh, all right, you got me. I had a backup plan both times--at least two more truck stops within twenty minutes. Gimme a break, willya? I'm tryin' to draw a moral here...)

Whips and chains. Well, that's half-true...

After my adventure in L.A. I retreated to our terminal. (Yes, we do have one--it's just not where I thought it was.)

They told me it might take a week or two to find me a load back east. My first day in California did not make that sound like a comforting prospect. Fortunately, they found me something the very next day.

Joyfully I fled to Colorado. Cheerfully I bedded down in the foothills of the Rockies. Happily I started further east the next morning.

Apprehensively I saw the electric signs telling me Vail Pass was getting snow.

A fairly light snowfall, I gathered. Not really a big problem. After all, Colorado gets lots of snow. They generally know how to handle it.

And that was my problem. One of the ways they handle it is with tire chains. And laws that require you to have them.

If you've ever tried to put tire chains on a car, you can probably sympathize with me. Putting them on an eighteen-wheeler? I've never done it. I hope never to have to do it. If the weather calls for it, I intend to admire the scenery until the weather no longer calls for it. And I gather I'm far from alone in that.

All well and good, except for one detail. States like Colorado don't insist you use chains--you can park if you want to. But they do require that you have them, just in case.

I didn't.

As you may recall, I wasn't expecting to be this far west. At all. I was therefore properly unequipped. And though the Company has a supply of chains stockpiled at various terminals, etc., I wasn't anywhere near any of those stockpiles.

And with those signs lit, it didn't matter whether the pass was snowed under or not. If a trooper stopped me and asked to see my chains, I would be up the creek. If I got surprised by a sudden blizzard and a trooper asked me to put them on, the creek would be Class IV whitewater.

Time to confess my sins.

I got on the phone and explained my plight. An hour or two later, they came back with the name of a place where I could buy a set on the Company's tab.* Half an hour later I was there. Two hours later, the paperwork was done.**

By that time the snow was cleared out of the pass and I didn't need the chains any more.

On the other hand, I'm legal for the rest of the year. In any state with chain laws (and some states back east have them). I'll haul them around til May or so, and--if I'm lucky--turn them in to the company without ever opening the bags and touching them. And maybe remember this next fall before it starts snowing.
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*For which I was most grateful. We're talking about over a thousand dollars worth of ironware here.

*They're not usually that slow. Honest.

No escape from L. A.

Ohio rest areas, by and large, are pretty decent.

This one is fairly small, but that actually makes sense. It's not on an Interstate, so they don't really expect us to be crowding into it. And tonight we haven't. Past eight o' clock and a few empty truck spaces left.

I've always appreciated empty parking spaces. But in California I developed a new respect for them.

New experiences
I've never been to California before this month. Never further west than Durango. In my life. My folks preferred the "Family Inn" theory of lodging, and we had no relatives past there.

And the Company doesn't send solo drivers that far very often. A team can get there in half the time, and they can charge you more for the speed.

But sometimes they have a load going that far for a customer in no hurry. And it's a LOT of miles. And we do get paid by the mile. So...

Four days later
I arrived in Los Angeles,  dropped a trailer full of Stuff, and learned the customer had no empties. So I let my dispatcher know, then sat a Long Time. Finally (finally!) they sent me to a rail yard to pick up an empty.

Only got lost on the yard twice. Did find the trailer, hooked up, then tried to get to the next shipper. Got lost three or four more times (nothing like having your exit torn out…). Then looked at the clock and realized I had less than an hour left to drive for the day. Gave up and started for the Company's Los Angeles terminal.

What do you mean there's no terminal? It's right there on the satcom!

Things change sometimes. Often without anyone telling me. Or updating the files.

Plan B
As far as I can tell, there are three places to park a truck in all of L.A. All within half a mile of each other. And all within five miles of where I stopped to figure this out.

Unfortunately, the place I stopped to figure this out has fuel pumps and a truck wash, but no parking spaces. At all. I've probably worn out my welcome already.

And by the time I've figured all this out, I've run out my 14-hour clock.

But I HAVE to move. And the longer I wait the more trouble I'm in. So. Forward, into a life of crime.

As it was,
all three places were full when I got there. But the third had a space they could let me use after they closed for the day. Just be gone by 08:00, they said.

Oh, and that'll be ten bucks, they said.

Cheap at the price, I thought.

And so
Next morning I went back and found the customer. Lots easier when you have time. And then I fled the city.

It's a lot more fun on tv.

*One of them is a McDonalds.