Summer Storms and Herri-Cans

When I visited Baltimore in 1997, my sister Jenn and I really got a kick out of the local's accents. They definitely have a different way of speaking there. If you've ever listened to the Don & Mike Radio Show and heard Mike do his over-the-top impression of the "Balti-Moron" you know exactly what I'm talking about!
I remember my great aunt talking about how Ocean City, Maryland used to have beautiful skyscrapers, until the "herri-cans" came along and knocked them down. I thought she was talking about a flock of very mean birds? Turns out she was talking about HURRICANES.
Being California born and grown, I've heard of hurricanes, but never really experienced one. They got my attention last year when Florida got hit and demolished by several nasty ones. I thought it was very sad when the international community was screaming at the US to send more aid to the tsunami victims, but no one lifted a finger to help the poor Floridians who lost everything last year. At any rate, I'm getting sidetracked.
We were in Atlanta when it was in the midst of a tropical storm. Can't remember the name of that one, but it was right before Hurricane Dennis. We were completely unaware of the chaos happening in the city-- a tornado that developed inside the motor speedway there and did $40 million worth of damage in minutes, and then proceeded to mow down a very nice condominium complex. Nope, we were at an Atlanta truck stop, dodging drug dealers and burning trucks.
The drug dealer was our first clue we were not in such a good neighborhood. We had walked across the street to get some dinner, and this slimeball fell into step with us. He was talking but we couldn't understand a word he said. I know now that he was speaking Ebonics, and I also hear that there are some civil rights organizatons who are trying to make this a recognized language in the African-American community. Puh-lease! He asked us if we smoked crack, and then offered to sell us some. Coming towards us was another group of very unsavory looking Ebonics speaking characters. We decided to ditch them all and have dinner in our truck for that night.
But trouble was still lurking, even in the safe confines of our truck. It was pouring by then, with lightning and thunder and all the loud noise that accompanies it. Jeff had crawled up into his bunk and was reading, and I was puttering around below, putting things away and getting ready for bed. All of a sudden we heard a loud WHOOOSH, and Jeff and I looked at each other with questions on our faces. We couldn't really place what kind of a noise it was. We only knew it came from outside, and attributed it to the storming. Since we had the curtains drawn over our windshield, we couldn't see anything anyhow, so I was ready to forget it and get back to what I had been doing.
A few minutes later we heard yelling and banging around, and that's when I decided to peer out the curtains. I could see the truck parked next to us with what I assumed to be steam coming out of the radiator, and a guy leaning into the engine. "Poor guy," I told Jeff. "His truck's overheated!" We both shrugged and went back to our business...
And then, pounding and yelling again from outside, but this time the person is pounding on OUR door. "My truck's on fire!" he was screaming. "You have to move!" In a split second Jeff had the curtains open, and I could see flames coming from underneath the guy's truck. Another horrifying vision: diesel fuel streaming down the parking lot. Holy shit! Faster than Jeff could turn the key, I was jumping out of the passenger side. Why wait to move the truck? I'm just gonna get the hell out NOW. And there I am, in shorts and a tank top and barefooted in sheets of rain, slipping on the gravel. Jeff hollered at me to get back in the truck: "What do you think you're DOING out there?!"-- but I waited until the truck began to roll before I took his advice.
The fire department came soon after, but thank goodness the truck never exploded or even burned badly. To this day I don't know what exactly had happened to cause the truck to catch fire like that. We took the next load offer that came over the computer and bailed out of Atlanta. If we NEVER go back it would be too soon for me.
The load offer we took?-- to Miami, where Hurricane Dennis was preparing to wreak havoc. I was a bit excited because I've never been in a hurricane before. I knew we'd have plenty of time to get out before it got too bad, which is the only reason I even went. Storms like that are cool to watch from a distance, but you sure wouldn't want to be in one. It was surreal to drive down the freeway and see flashing signs warning of evacuation traffic from the Keys.
You know what? Florida is a beautiful place. But I can't imagine anyone living there. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night, wondering when the next hurricane was going to blow away everything I owned. I don't know how they do it.
Anyways, Dennis stomped through the Keys, and then into Miami. By then we were further north, and only had to deal with strong winds and lightning and intermittent rain.
But when it rains in the south, it POURS.

Afterthoughts...

Happy Birthday to the Boo-Dog and The Egghead!
My Boo-Dog is a little Maltese who's been with me since he was six weeks old, and he is now 12. I miss him dearly, and would never have left home if there was nobody to take care of him; but Boo got lucky. He's with my son, which is the next best thing to me!
The Egghead is my brother-in-law, aka Jeff. I call him The Egghead because he's white, and he shaves his head.
My little niece Keira (the daughter of my sister and The Egghead) looks alot like him. She's white and bald, so I call her the Baby Egg.
It's times like this I do miss home. If I were there, Boo would get a nice juicy steak with a candle in it. Come to think of it, so would The Egghead!

More Harbor Tunnels, Please?????

This post finds us at a Flying J truck stop in a small town just north of Richmond VA. Jeff has frantically been searching for his one and only guitar pick, which somehow got lost in the sleeper area. Good luck finding it! He has instead settled on a coin, in true Brian May fashion. I like listening to him play, and I'm sure part of it is due to envy as I never learned how to play the guitar, but always wished I could. I don't have the dexterity needed in my fingers to play anything more than basic guitar chords. So I always appreciate a good guitar player-- which Jeff is-- and there he goes jamming away on a cool little battery operated amp, playing some old Queen songs which we both enjoy.
We "deadheaded" here yesterday, which is an industry term for driving a truck that has no load. For us, as independent contractors, it also means we are spending money to get from one place to another. But as much as we would have liked to stay in Baltimore to see some sights, it was more important to get out of there as soon as possible. Baltimore just doesn't seem to be the best place to get decent loads, so we decided to head south!
Now, I like Maryland. I like Baltimore-- in fact it's very near and dear to my heart because the very first trip I ever took outside of California (not counting Nevada) was to Baltimore in 1997, for a family reunion of sorts. It was a shocking jaunt to say the very least, because the east coast is so different from the west. I couldn't believe all the trees!-- and I still can't. You hear of "tree-huggers" in California-- well, seems to me they need to get out a bit more because they obviously think we have a tree shortage and I'm here to say we don't. It's not just Maryland that's like that, it's everywhere east of the Mississippi.
The one thing about Maryland that just infuriates me are the bridges. I hate bridges. I have for years. But they are a necessary evil when you drive a truck for a living. Most of the bridges I took in California are on three lane roads, so I just drove in the middle lane. If they only have two lanes, at least you have the shoulder for some margin of error-- that nice extra bit of pavement that would normally be reserved for bicyclists. The farther away from the side I can get, the better!-- without driving in the fast lane of course!-- because that's seriously looked down upon if you're in a big truck. Staying away from the side isn't just because of my irrational fear of bridges, it's also a safety issue. Bridges tend to have fierce crosswinds, and when you're in a big truck those winds can easily knock you back and forth. I've actually been knocked completely into the next lane by wind! You wouldn't think that would be the case in a heavy vehicle, but trust me it is. I've heard a couple cases where a truck was blown OFF a bridge by high crosswinds! Those trucks were travelling empty though, and shouldn't have been on that particular bridge to begin with.
So you see, my irrational fear isn't so irrational after all. And when it comes to unsafe bridges, Maryland has the market cornered.
It's been a month or two ago now, when we drove through Baltimore for the first time since joining up with our company. We had to take the Francis Scott Key Bridge, which spans over the Chesapeake Bay. As we're approaching the bridge I see the familiar sign: "Trucks Must Use Right Lane". And then anther, more ominous sign: "Dangerous Crosswinds on Bridge". The most terrifying thing of all though, was the fact that the bridge only had two lanes in each direction, and NO shoulder on the right. Directly next to our right side is a concrete barrier only half as tall as our tires. All I can see looking out my window was choppy water, way down below.
Jeff was driving, and when he saw I was getting agitated he suggested I get in the back so I can't see what's going on. Instead I opted for the floor, so I could at least peer over the dash and make sure we're still on the bridge. That's when we hit the crosswinds. And the rest of the drive over that span gave us both gray hair.
If it had been me at the wheel, I would have said to hell with the sign, and driven in the left lane. Go ahead and write me a ticket!-- it's better than blowing off the bridge into the bay. But I think that deep down, Jeff enjoyed the scary aspect of it. Anyways, we survived that day, and I figured we could just do our best to avoid that bridge in the future.
And so, we brought another delivery into Baltimore on Friday, from New York. As soon as I cross the Marlyand border, here comes a bridge. A HUGE bridge, over a huge river, and to my utter shock and disgust there is no shoulder and only two lanes. And high crosswinds with a tiny concrete barrier on the right side. And I'm at the wheel. I'm at the wheel until we get to our delivery, and every bridge I crossed was the same.
I've been all over the country now, save for a few states. I've driven over alot of bridges, and none of them are like they are in Maryland. So what gives? Are they just too cheap to build wider bridges? Is road asphalt hard to come by here? Did they use all the concrete on the Harbor Tunnel and just ran out?!
Hey now there's an idea! Less bridges, and more Harbor Tunnels. Just drive under the bay in a cement tube and you don't have to deal with wind.
In my Utopia, that's how it would be...

Change of Scenery

Well now we've been offered a load to Maryland, in a town just outside of DC. It's only a bit over 300 miles from here, which seems silly for a team to drive, but we took it because our company gets mad at us if we refuse too many loads. So we will drive to Albany tonight, and pick the load up at 6am tomorrow and take it in to DC.
It could all end up in our favor really; we could get dispatched out of that area with a very nice cross-country load (and go home to California perhaps) or we could get laid over near DC for the weekend, which means we can go into "tourist mode" and see some sights. I've been to DC before but certainly wouldn't mind seeing it again. And Jeff, as patriotic as he is, would be quite the tour guide for all the monuments. He is a walking encyclopedia when it comes to history. I never much cared about history in my school days but the older I get, the more interested I become.
What I'd really like is to go home though. We've been out for six weeks on this leg, and we are both feeling a bit homesick. I need to see my little niece (who is growing by leaps and bounds right now) and my little Boo-Dog, and Jeff needs to see his kids.
We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, we've been taking it easy today. A little shopping, and then I did some paperwork and listened to some Sacramento radio (isn't the Internet wonderful!). It's a beautiful day here in upstate New York. Seems to be the only cool climate we have been in for weeks.
We will be leaving for Albany soon, so I will post more later.

Deliver to Brooklyn? HELL NO!

Our company has been a little miffed that we've been turning down so many load offers. But because we are independent contractors, we have to consider many things before we accept a load: most important, how much does diesel cost in the region we're in, how many miles are we going and what does the load pay per mile?
Tonight we were offered a load into Brooklyn. There was a bit of labor involved, two deliveries, and to top it all off it was a HazMat (Hazardous Material) load. HazMat is a huge pain, because you have to placard your truck. It's an open invitation for all weigh stations to stop you to inspect the cargo, not to mention letting terrorists (and other assorted ne'er-do-wells) know what you're carrying and possibly setting yourself up for a hijacking.
But more important, we learned early on that going into NYC can be your worst nightmare. Jeff was all set to refuse the load, and then it was retracted because he's not HazMat certified yet. Whew! Dodged a bullet there...
New York is not a truck-friendly area. We were all excited the first time we got a load there, because we'd never seen the city and it could be a great experience. And it WAS exciting to see all that, even in rush hour traffic.
The fun really began when we were trying to find a place to pull over to sleep for the night. We were on Long Island, and there were no truck stops that we could find, so we settled on a WalMart parking lot. Generally, WalMart's are great about letting RV's and trucks park in their lots for the night, and we had no reason to think this place would be any different.
That is, until we were awakened at 6:30 the next morning to heavy pounding on the window in the sleeper area just above my head. Jeff and I both sat up in alarm, and he made a beeline for the cab area so he could pull apart the drapes and see what was going on. He was surprised to see a little old man standing there, shaking his fist and yelling that we didn't belong there. Turns out this guy was a security guard, and he was on a rampage. Jeff listened politely for a few minutes while this man berated him and our truck for simply existing, and then asked him if WalMart had complained about our presence. "I don't give a f**k about WalMart!" the little man screamed. "I work for the landlord, and you don't belong here!" At which point he stomped back to his car and proceeded to write down our plate number and make a call on his cell phone. Jeff rolled his eyes and announced he was certain the cops would be along soon, and we should simply relax and wait.
We didn't have to wait for long. The cop came along within five minutes, but luckily he was all smiles and had a great sense of humor. He told us the security guard who turned us in kept his department very busy, and added that the man was a "grumpy old f**k who takes his job a little too seriously". This is a COP talking to us now! I've never heard a cop use that language, but in Long Island it's just a manner of speaking. He directed us to another lot to park in, and we waved goodbye to the angry little security guard.
And we haven't laid over in NYC since.
What's more, we try never to go there!
Can you blame us? :)

Break Time in Oneonta NY

No trucker's blog should start with the team drivers crashing in a hotel, but that's exactly what we're doing at the moment. We got a load from central Ohio into Binghamton NY, and it just so happens our truck's owners live near Binghamton, and there were several repairs to be made on the rig. It seemed a good idea to get a hotel room and rest a bit while the work was being done, and I for one am glad we spent the money. No pool here, which bummed me out because I like to swim and I'm seriously lacking in exercise, but hey, there's a nice shower!-- and showers can be a luxury for over-the-road drivers. I even did my hair and make-up! I haven't worn make-up since we hit we road in April, and it's nice to feel pretty again.
We're here until tomorrow morning, and hopefully we'll have a load taking us far away (the more miles we run, the more money we make). In the meantime, we're watching TV, playing Dominos, and Jeff is enjoying a nice cold bottle of Bud. Life's simple pleasures!

Driving My Life Away

Well the midnight headlights will blind you on a rainy night
Steep grade up ahead-- slow me down, making no time
I've gotta keep rollin'
And the windshield wipers are slappin' out a tempo
Keeping perfect rhythm with the song on the radio
Gotta keep rollin'

Oooh I'm driving my life away
Looking for a better way for me
Ooooh I'm driving my life away
Looking for a better way...