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Trucker rearview

Climbing into the big rig cab and taking charge behind the controls of that huge 18-wheeler was a familiar but sobering move that brought me to reality. Blue sky reflections and titillating fantasies had to surrender to serious commitment and calculation. Where was that math prof from the Numbers show?!

Not only I, but also the equipment had to work perfectly and reliably to survive another day on the road. Shit had a way of happening, and dealing with the uncontrollables including weather, road conditions, traffic, and breakdowns was a pain. But then a sense of mission and commitment would dominate the day and renew my confidence.

I loved that steady rhythm and pounding of the big diesel. It gave me power, freedom, security, and comfort: 1) power to push 80 thousand pounds across the plains and mountains; 2) freedom to roll when, where, and under what conditions; 3) the security of size, lights, air brakes, and communications; and 4) comfort to stay warm in the bunk, and cool in the driver’s seat.

The condo cab was my home and the road my work shop. Yet, that 71-ft rig scared the hell out of me every time I did a pretrip inspection. What if I ever lost control or fell asleep while driving. Although afraid, I was not fear driven. I was defiant, a risk taker, an adventurer, a planner, and a dreamer.

Sleeping in the bunk was cozy and secure, but once awake, performance anxiety dominated me. I repeatedly scanned the critical path of a long haul in my mind’s eye. I visualized the route, the inspection stations, the scales and those ‘dumb’ ports of entry at some of the Western state lines.

I planned my fuel stops, naps, and overnight parking in a preferred truck stop. Getting there before nightfall and finding a good spot to park among hundreds of other big rigs was a constant concern.

Backing safely into a narrow space at a crowded truck stop was a pain. Not parking next to a noisy reefer or a smelly bull wagon was another. Updating the log book was a nightly nuisance. Speed limits in the states ruled reportable driving time. DOT Regs and state trooper versions of the rules were another irritant. I well understood truck driving legalities, but outsmarting the ‘bears’ was a constant concern.

On-time delivery was the dominant driving force. Competing with other truckers added child-like fun and excitement. But keeping equipment running, scaling out the axles, rolling across state scales and enduring DOT inspections was a pain in the fifth wheel, so was daily reporting in to dispatch on the Qualcomm computer.

Of course there was no fooling the dispatcher because the truck was being tracked via satellite and fuel stop data systems. Moreover, the onboard computer and engine controller reported operating data to some yoyo analyst at company headquarters for driver performance evaluation and review.

Fuel cost was the most important controllable expense. I took pride in maintaining engine RPM at or near peak torque for optimum fuel utilization. But I also had a passion for down-shifting and hammering down when dueling for road position with another truck.

I rarely used the clutch and smoothly floated the gears as most veteran truckers do, by feel of the RPM sync points. At such times I felt the truck and I were one, a perfect integration of hardware, software and brainware, of steel and biology.

I would sometimes enjoy playing with a pesky four-wheeler, tail him for hours, wear him down, and drive him crazy with repeatedly coming up on his ‘back door.’ I loved to run six hundred miles or more without stopping, especially across large states like Texas, Arizona or Nebraska.

While crossing the Achafalaya swamp in Louisiana, I took the above picture driving across the Whiskey Bay I-10 bridge. My large left side mirror (on right in the pic) reflects the 53-ft trailer and the road behind me.

The above is a true account which may help an aspiring truck driver to make up his or her mind. Trucking is not a profession, it's a job. This job is dangerous, demanding and frustrating. You've got to love the road an awful lot to put up with all of the annoyances, irritations, and nasty uncontrollables. But if you know that you must and will do it, then maybe take the time to read my article Trucking is not for Softies.