Breaker, Breaker

I took a quiz on Facebook the other day. The Ultimate Trucker Lingo Quiz, I think is what it was called. As you may know, truck drivers rarely refer to things by the same name that everyone else uses. Must be the long hours behind the wheel that makes them come up with alternative names for things, I guess.

Anyway, I wanted to see how I’d do, having been a driver for twenty-two years. Turns out, I qualified as an expert. “I would hope so,” I said to myself. Two decades should be time enough to learn an entire language, not just a little industry jargon.

Thing is, I’m not sure I needed my experience as a truck driver to pass the test. I think most people could pass the test without much problem. Common sense should be all that is needed. Plus, the test was multiple choice, so...

I guess that it helps that I’m old. I’ve had a lot of exposure to these sayings and expressions nearly all of my life; particularly back in the 70’s when CB’s were at their height of popularity. Being a truck driver may have helped establish some of the lingo firmly into my lexicon but it wasn’t like trucker talk was something new to me.

But all that aside, virtually nobody, (truckers anyway) talks like that anymore. Sure, there are a few who keep it up, mostly the older drivers. And of course, some expressions have managed to hang on, such as, 10-4, meat wagon (ambulance), smokey bear, or something like, alligator in the hammer lane (blown tire tread in the left lane). But the “art” of trucker lingo is pretty much a by-gone thing. Many drivers these days do not even use the CB; don’t even turn it on, unless there’s an emergency.

Even then, the good ol’ days, when there was always someone to come back with helpful information, are over. These days, if you get anything other than silence in response, it’s likely to be some smart remark that’s not at all helpful. The camaraderie of the “White Knights of the Road,” is long gone. In some ways that may be good but I sort of miss it. And, I’ll admit that every so often, I slip back into my trucker lingo—even when I’m not driving. ’Cause, like I said, I’m old. With that in mind:

Looks like I got this blog post in my back pocket. I’m gonna back on out now and head for the barn—if I can dodge all them 4-Wheelers. Keep the dirty side down and I’ll catch you on the flip. We gone, 10-10. ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Slick Trick

I thought winter was over. Yes, I know it’s still February, but after a few days of good roads, I was hopeful. Sadly, this past Tuesday night I learned winter was not quite finished yet.

As a truck driver for the last twenty-some years, I’ve come to despise winter. Driving on slick roads every day can get old. Worse yet, it’s making me old, I think. What hair I have left is turning gray, and whether it’s accurate or not, I’m blaming the winter driving.

But back to my story. I was almost done with my run, only about 50 miles to go, when the rain started. The temperature was 27 degrees. I kept up my speed for a few miles but when the sides of the road began sparkling, I decided to back it down a little.

I was catching up to another truck and debating on whether or not to pass. Knowing there was a bridge coming up—a bridge that is notoriously slick, and built on a curve—I slowed down more and stayed behind the guy. We were traveling about 30 mph and all was well.

But the car that had been rapidly gaining on us didn’t slow down. The driver passed us both and pulled back into the right lane. Then about a half mile ahead, just before he crossed the bridge I saw the brake lights come on. And that’s when all the fun began.

As the car did a few 360’s in the middle of the freeway, the other truck and I slowed down as much as we could (without using the brakes). The car came to a stop right on the dotted line but left us enough room to squeeze by—barely. We were now moving about 5 mph and that would prove to be too fast.

I saw the truck in front of me start sliding the moment he hit the bridge. His trailer turned sideways and he drifted to the left side of the bridge. At this point, I still had a little control and I moved al the way to the right, trying to avoid him. But then I crossed onto the bridge and at 5 mph started a slow slide to the left with my trailer fishtailing behind me. And there wasn’t a thing I could do.

Just to give you a feel for the situation, I’m in a 100,000 lb rig, on a bridge, sliding to the edge, with no control. I couldn’t steer or accelerate, and I knew better than to hit the brakes. And at this time of year, I was pretty sure the water below was COLD.

It’s funny how things slow down at times like this. Of course, at 5 mph, I was barely moving anyway but still...  As everything slowed down, I had time to consider my options, which came down to either: jump out or keep going and hope for the best. One thing I knew, I most certainly didn’t want to stop. I’d be a sitting duck when more traffic showed up, which could be at any moment. And since I didn’t really want to jump out, I kept my foot on the throttle. But with no traction, that may have been pointless.

I saw the truck in front of me slam into the side of the bridge and then start sliding the other way. Figuring that was as good a plan as any, I turned my wheel all the way to the right, hoping the tire stuck out past the fender. (No need to go smashing up the truck unnecessarily). I wasn’t sure but it seemed to work and bouncing off the guardrail, I joined the tuck ahead of me in sliding to the right.

We proceeded all the way across the bridge like that, bouncing our way to the other side. Thankfully, no other traffic came by. Once off the bridge, we could get a little traction. By little, I mean we got up to about 10 mph, then slowly climbed to 15 mph. We couldn’t go any faster. And that was fine with me. I was no longer in that much of a hurry. Apparently, neither was the other driver.

Two hours later, I finished my run without any further incidents. Once the truck was parked, I checked for damage and there was none! Not even any marks on the tires!

So, all in all, a good night!

Later, I started thinking how the car that wrecked probably saved me. If I’d hit that bridge at 30 mph, I doubt the flimsy guardrail would have been much of a hindrance. Most likely, the truck would have plowed right through it on its way to the river below.

I was already wishing winter was over, and now, more so. But, this week’s forecast calls for... snow. And more freezing rain. Yay! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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It's The Thought That Counts

Zero degrees. And there I am, lying under a semi trailer in a foot of snow, rapping on brakes with a hammer. And with every tap of the hammer, more ice, frozen mud, and snow is falling into my hair and face. Oh, the joys of trucking in the winter!

The driver next to me was loudly cursing as he attempted to deal with his own frozen equipment. He said he’d tried to find a trailer that wasn’t frozen but hadn’t had any luck. “Yeah, at zero degrees, I think they’re all pretty well frozen by now,” I said.

After freeing all four brakes on my trailer, I went to help the guy and in just a few minutes, he was ready to roll. “How do you do that so fast?” he wanted to know.

There is a bit of a trick to it, but instead of sharing my “secret” information, I simply said, “Think warm thoughts.”

The driver gave me a dubious look, probably thinking I’d been out in the cold too long and lost my mind. I repeated my advice and then added something about tomorrow things would be better. The guy didn’t argue but I could tell he thought the chances of the weather warming up were nil. (I must admit, at that point, I agreed with him).

The next day, when I showed up at work, it was still cold. I saw the same guy out in the yard, again struggling to get his trailer rolling. After a trip into the office for some coffee, I figured I’d be joining him and was prepared to hear his profanity-laced tirade about how I’d been wrong—things hadn’t gotten any warmer. But...

When I went into the office, the dispatcher said I needed to pick up a certain trailer and take it to another terminal for repairs. One of the mechanics had just parked it outside, I was told. I did my best to not laugh but did smile a little to myself. If the mechanic had just parked it that likely meant the trailer had been in the shop for several hours, which meant it would be clean, dry, and warm—with no frozen brakes!

Pretending it was summer; I went out and hooked up—just in time to see the other driver pulling up beside me. Apparently, he’d seen the mechanic bring the trailer out and had enviously watched as I by-passed all the usual winter rigmarole of hooking up a trailer.

“How’d you get so lucky?” he grumbled.

I shrugged. “By thinking warm thoughts!”

Merry Christmas! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

Just A Few Days Off

Yay! I finally hit it right! Oh, maybe I should let you in on why I am so excited. Well, as I have mentioned in previous posts, I drive a truck for a living. A semi. And every year, I take a weeklong winter vacation. I try to predict when the bad weather will come and take my vacation that week. And almost always, I’m wrong. It will come the week before or the week after my vacation. This is my twentieth winter at this job and out of the previous nineteen years, I have been right only once—and that year I took my wife to a meeting for her job amid the ice and snow. And down the same road I drive in my truck too. Wasn’t exactly a win.

But this year... This year, I got lucky! I had last week off and nowhere to go when the winter weather hit dumping a foot of snow on us. Roads were closed (including the road I drive in the truck) schools closed, and a lot of events cancelled. And it didn’t affect me one iota! I drove around town looking at all the snow, seeing all the parked trucks, and watching people TRY to drive. It was actually kind of fun.

But now the vacation is over. Time to go back to work. Trouble is, winter isn’t over. Technically, it hasn’t even started. And looking at this week’s forecast, and that of the next week, I’m starting to wonder if I picked the right time for vacation or not. Looks like my few days off might have been a few days off—again! Most days are forecasted to have 3-5 inches of snow and/or freezing rain. That freezing rain thing is what has me concerned. 700 miles per day gets a little hard to do on ice! So, my celebrating mood might have been a little premature. Hmm, maybe next year, I’ll just take all of December and January off. But then, we’d probably get a big storm in November! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

Time For Thanksgiving

A rare occurrence should happen for me this week. Should. There are no guarantees but as it stands currently, it appears I will get to celebrate the holiday at home. Yes, a day off work! I know, most of you probably get all the holidays off but I’m not that lucky.

It’s not like I have a super-important job or something—I drive a truck. And no, I don’t haul hot loads of time-sensitive goods, I haul garbage. You’d think garbage wouldn’t be that critical. I mean, it’s not going to spoil if we wait a day or two to haul it. But, the powers that be think we should work holidays.

So, most holidays I’m driving down the road in my semi, while seemingly everyone else is enjoying the day off with their friends and family. Until the last few years, I’ve spent Christmas, New Year’s Day, and Independence Day, along with all the rest of the notable holidays, just driving. Of course, I do get paid extra, which is nice but I’d rather be home.

Just wanted to say how thankful I am to be able to spend the upcoming holiday with my family. With the upcoming holiday being Thanksgiving, I think being thankful is sort of like required. Well, maybe not required but definitely appropriate—or who knows, next year, I might be stuck driving again.

Happy Thanksgiving! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

Trashy Reputation

So, I had a shorter weekend than normal thanks to my job—specifically, the DOT, the Department of Transportation. They are the government agency tasked with harassing truck drivers. Apparently, they don’t take too kindly to a guy (me) driving a truck that’s 2,400 lbs. over weight. And they felt compelled to tell me all about it in lengthy detail.

This was not news to me. After nearly two decades on this job, I’ve heard it all before. And in fact, the scenario that ensued has happened before—right down to how it ends.

The officer was fairly new to the job, I guess because he didn’t seem to know much about the company I drive for. He seemed to think it was necessary to covey how abhorrent it was that I was hauling all that weight illegally and how harmful it was for the road. The highway just isn’t designed to handle that much weight, he claimed. (Never mind that all a guy has to do is purchase an extended weight permit and then it’s perfectly acceptable to drive the same truck down the same road). He also informed me that anything more than 2000 lbs. over weight had to be legalized before allowing the driver to proceed. It’s not discretionary.

That meant I’d be sitting there until someone could come and fix my load, which would be several hours. That wasn’t at all appealing to me; Friday night, the weekend coming up, and by the time the load was legalized, I would be out of hours. That meant an additional 10 hours before I could leave. All this because I was, “just simply hauling too much weight.”

I didn’t argue, not much point in that, although I may have mentioned something to the effect that I didn’t care.

I think the guy was prepared to continue the lecture when the other officer on duty came over to see what was going on. After having the first guy explain the situation, he gave the man a perplexed look. “Do you know what he’s hauling?” he asked. Then, he answered his own question. “Garbage. He’s hauling garbage. Issue a citation and let him go.”

I got the feeling they didn’t want me around for some reason! Apparently, they don’t think much of having a full semi load of raw garbage sitting around smelling up the place. And the thought of having someone come to dig out part of the load right there on their lot isn’t appealing either. I guess that rule that was not discretionary actually wasn’t all that ironclad after all.

Soon I was on my way—with a citation, of course. But the company takes care of those so all the little episode cost me was a little time—­about an hour. I think somebody owes me an extra weekend hour! Maybe I’ll go to work a little late today and call it even. ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Back Home

Wisconsin in August! Probably not the best time to venture into America’s Dairyland.

For those of you who did not see last week’s post, the family and I, all eleven of us, took a road trip from Oregon to Wisconsin. For some in our party, it was the first visit to the state, and their first experience with humidity and bugs! Oh, and thunderstorms!

Also, for some, it was their first experience with long distance driving. At first, the grandkids seemed excited at the prospect and eager to hit the road. But I think the novelty wore off after the first 100 miles or so. After that, the “joy” of driving transitioned into the typical “Are-we-there-yet view.

For the adults, the adventure took a turn for the worse after about ten hours, in the form of car trouble. Outside Evanston, Wyoming, one of our vehicles broke down. It would run but the transmission would not engage. Sitting on the side of the freeway is not a real exciting way to spend a vacation. After a couple of hours and a few visits from the Wyoming law enforcement (who were very friendly and helpful) we had the car towed to the dealership where we learned it would need a new transmission, which incidentally, was not cheap. Eventually, we rented a car and continued our trip, leaving the problem vehicle to be fixed. We were a day late when we got to Wisconsin but better late than never, I suppose.

But wait, there’s more. The day before we needed to leave, the key for the rental car decided not to work. It was one of those new key fobs and not an actual key. The message panel on the car just said “Damaged key” when we tried to use it. And although those type of keys have a “real” key inside them for such an emergency, that wouldn’t work either. No matter what we tried, the car wouldn’t start. We couldn’t even roll up the windows. Not a good situation in a place that likes to rain buckets of water! So, after another tow to the dealership and waiting a day for them to fix it, with fingers crossed, we headed home.

There a few more minor issues with the rental, but finally, we made it back to Evanston, Wyoming. There, we picked up the repaired vehicle, returned the rental car, and hit the road again for the rest of our journey. After a day and a half on the road, we arrived home dead tired—and slightly disgruntled.

But the trip wasn’t all doom and gloom. While in Wisconsin, we visited my wife’s family, celebrating her parents’ 50 years of marriage and, I think, we all had a good time. We saw a lot of family and friends that we hadn’t seen for a long time and had a nice visit. Also, on the way to Wisconsin we stopped at Mt Rushmore, and saw a few other sites too. The stops helped break up the trip for the travel novices, know as my grandchildren!

In all, we visited nine different states. I’m pretty sure the extended freeway journey made for a fun-filled experience for, not only the grandkids, but everyone else as well. But I don’t think any of them are ready to go anywhere in a vehicle just yet. Except me. I’m headed back to work. I’ll be driving all night again. But not to Wisconsin! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

Almost A Vacation

Vacation! Yep, again. A year ago, on my summer vacation, I spent the week painting the house, and fixing things that had been neglected far too long. This year, I’m taking an actual vacation. Well, sort of. We’re traveling to that exotic land of enchantment, known as Wisconsin. (That last part may have been typed with just a hint of sarcasm).

It promises to be a fun-filled, or at least, interesting, trip. The whole family, my wife and I, our three adult children, our son-in-law, and the five grandchildren will be cruising down the freeway from Oregon to Wisconsin. Normally, it’s around a thirty-hour drive, but with that many people, and that many kids, it might take a wee bit longer this time. Hopefully, by the time anyone reads this, we will be there. Hopefully.

For everyone, other than me, this will be a LONG trip. By the end of our vacation, we will have driven more than 3,500 miles. I’m thinking the grandkids, and perhaps a few others, will have had enough of being car bound, listening to the hum of steelbelts on the asphalt, by the time we get back home. 3,500 miles is a lot of miles. I know. That’s what I drive every week. And now you know why I said I was “sort of” taking a vacation. ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

Walking The Line

As a truck driver who covers thousands of miles per week, I’m treated to all sorts of scenes on the road. Some are pretty, like snow-covered mountains, cascading waterfalls, and slow-moving rivers. Some are funny, such as the time I saw a Volkswagen Bug pulling a huge U-Haul trailer. Others are puzzling; a tire perched precariously atop an exit sign—yes, I have seen that. But a few are downright creepy. Morbid.

For instance, a couple of weeks ago, I was traveling down the freeway, minding my own business—sort of—when I got passed by a State Patrol. He was following right behind another car and I kept waiting for him to pull them over but the lights didn’t come on.

Both cars soon disappeared into the night but then a ways ahead; I saw the red and blue lights start flashing. I watched as the lights came to a stop on the side of the road and assumed he had stopped the car he’d been following. But as I neared the location, I noticed there was no other vehicle in front of the cop. I had only a brief moment to wonder why the officer had made a stop of himself before his spotlight came on. And there, fully illuminated on the shoulder of the road, was a body! Yes, we’re talking a human body, a male. He was lying facedown on the side of the road, just off the fog line. (The white line on the right for you non-professional drivers).

Later, I learned the man had been struck while walking; a hit and run. Obviously, he had not survived.

I know sometimes walking down a freeway is necessary but why anyone would do it when there is no reason, especially at night is beyond me—I’ve seen the way people drive! Actually, when traveling at freeway speeds, it is extremely difficult to see people on the road at night. Yet, quite frequently, somebody is out there walking down the line. In fact, as I was thinking about writing this blog post, I saw one who must have had a death wish of his own.

I was traveling through a construction zone, a single lane with concrete barriers on either side. And there he was, a man who acted as if he had not a care in the world, slowly ambling along, reading a newspaper. He didn’t seem to flinch as multiple trucks and cars flew past barely a foot away.

Like I said, I know walking down the freeway may, at times, be necessary, but please, do me a favor. If you find yourself in a situation that requires hoofing it on the highway, walk on the other side of the guardrail—or at least far enough away from where my trailer could clip you if the wind happens to be blowing. I could do without all the extra paperwork! Thanks.

Oh, and the fool who was calmly standing in the lane mere inches from death? I heard from another driver that the police had showed up soon after I’d gone by and they’d apparently “explained” the situation to him and then escorted him out of the construction area. But, about five hours later, when I made my return trip, there he was again, strolling down the road, halfway in my lane. As I passed him, I’m sure I saw his lips moving, and his body was swaying back and forth rhythmically, almost as if he were singing. And maybe he was—his death song, I presume! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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A Driving Hunger

While making my rounds of 700+ miles per day in the big truck—semi for those who may think a “big truck” refers to a monster truck—I occasionally get hungry. Actually, I pretty much STAY hungry these days. That’s because I’ve decided I probably shouldn’t eat anything and everything in sight all night long as I drive. (Not if I do not want to look like the typical truck driver anyway). But a guy can only take so much hunger, and once in a while, I treat myself to a meal.

Truck stop food being what it is—overpriced bland sustenance that leaves you feeling half sick—I try to go to an actual restaurant when possible. Not a sit-down restaurant; there’s no time for that since I need to keep moving. (No miles equals no pay and I haven’t yet figured out how to live without money)! So, I visit the fast food places like McDonald’s. Some would suggest that McDonald’s food is no better than truck stop food but I beg to differ—I happen to LIKE McDonald’s!

But I also like a little variety and there’s a very good chicken place on my run—southern style fried chicken with all of the fixin’s! The food is delicious, the service is good—well, the people are friendly anyway. The service WOULD be good if I could ever get what I ordered. That, is sometimes a chore.

I prefer white meat and I always specify ALL white meat. The person taking my order acknowledges my request, it’s even printed on my receipt. But somewhere between taking my order and filling it, there is a disconnect. Out of the nearly ten years I’ve been stopping there, I think I’ve gotten only white meat about three times. Usually, I end up with a breast and a thigh. Sometimes, a breast and a leg. And once in a while, no white meat at all.

I’ve decided this has more to do with ignorance than incompetence—no one has bothered to teach the younger employees which pieces are white and which are dark. At least that WAS my theory.

I stopped in for some chicken the other day and was glad when the manager, an older and seemingly competent woman, took my order—and then worked on filling it herself. Maybe this time, they’ll get it right, I thought. But my hope was short-lived. I opened my box to find two thighs.

I’ve considered offering all their employees classes on white meat vs. dark meat. Or maybe making up a little chart for them, with pictures—for all the Facebook conditioned people who NEED a visual aid. But they probably aren’t interested in my input. And even if I managed to educate one or two of them, with a fairly high turnover rate, I’d never be able to keep up and still would probably not get what I ordered. So, I guess I’ll just stick to driving a truck. And stay hungry! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Overweight, Again

As regular readers of this blog know, I am a truck driver in my “real” life. I haul bulk garbage from the city to the desert in a semi, usually around 70,000 pounds per trip. And just in case anyone is wondering, that is a LOT of garbage. Fortunately, I do not dump it, or load it for that matter. All I do is drive the truck, drop the trailer, and then go get another load.

Due to sudden braking or other driving-related causes, the wet garbage can sometimes shift, and over the years, I’ve had my share of overweight fines. Normally, the loads are pre-weighed and legal—we don’t have to scale the truck, we just drive. If there is a problem, the company pays the ticket, since the driver has no way of knowing if the weight is legal or not. Because the company pays and the ticket doesn’t go on the driver’s record, we don’t really get too excited about it. The only thing I don’t like is that it costs me time. For some reason, the DOT is never concerned with my time, though.

About a week ago, I was thinking that it had been a while since I’d had a ticket. I shouldn’t have been thinking, I guess, because last Friday, I had the privilege of getting pulled into the scales on the freeway and then told to park and bring my papers—like I was in a foreign country or something. Once inside the building, I got to chat with the guy about how I was (apparently, single-handedly) responsible for the rutted condition of the roads. Nevermind the fact that if my company, or any company, wanted to haul more weight all they have to do is pay a little more money and the extended weight permit is amended to allow for whatever weight they want or need. So, it’s not really about the roads, but as most things with government are, it’s the money.

Okay, I’ll get off my soapbox and back to the story... Turns out, my entire truck was not overweight, just the drivers—the wheels on the tractor—they were 2,300 pounds over the limit. The trailer was about 3000 pounds underweight, which meant the load had obviously shifted. I was given a citation and instructed to legalize my load before leaving. Great! There was just one problem with that.

Most semis have the ability to move the weight around using sliding tandems or fifth wheels. The trucks at my job have neither. Which meant the only way for me to legalize my load was to back up as fast as I could get going and then slam on the brakes. This technique is sort of frowned upon by the DOT. Not that they care about the truck or the load, they are only concerned with the damage it may do to their lot! That didn’t concern me much; what I was concerned with is getting home on a Friday night. But as you can imagine, this method of moving the weight around is far from a scientific approach. It took several re-weighs before I was legal. Finally, an hour after pulling into the scale I was on my way.

But then, just before hitting the freeway, I HAD to hit my brakes—pretty hard too. And I felt the load come rushing back to the front of the trailer. So after an hour, and a citation, nothing had changed; I was right back to being overweight on the drivers! But I wouldn’t have done that on purpose—would I? ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Faster Is Better, Isn't It?

I drive a lot. And see a lot of things. And having a dedicated run, I see mostly the same things every day. Every week, month, and year, I’m looking at the same scene that I’ve seen many times before. But, this past week I saw something I hadn’t seen in years. Since 1974 in fact.

What did I see? A 70 mph speed limit sign in Oregon!

I know, for some of you—a lot of you, actually—this is no big deal. Most states raised their speed limits to 70 mph and higher long ago. But not Oregon. Oregon has been stuck at 65 mph (55 mph for trucks) for what seems like forever.

Back in 1974, when the national speed limit was set at 55 mph due to the supposed gas shortage—we still haven’t run out, by the way, and we’re driving more vehicles a lot more miles—Oregon took down all the 70 mph signs. And disposed of them, I’m sure. They should have kept them because here we are a “short” 42 years later, and the signs, or rather, new signs, are going back up. And the truck speed limit has been raised to 65 mph! That’s the first change for trucks since 1974!

You’d think that being a truck driver, and driving 700 miles a day, this would perhaps save me some time. But it doesn’t. My truck is governed at 62 mph just like it was before. Unlike old governors, which could be bumped, the computerized version actually limits the vehicle speed. The only way to make the truck go any faster is to let it roll down the hills. I do this of course, but it only works when I’m loaded. And for exactly half of my day I’m empty.

There is another reason the new posted speed doesn’t save any time. And that is, typical of a government venture, the new speed limit doesn’t apply in all of the state, only the eastern portion. The dividing line is about the half way point of my run. And of course, most of the hills are in the western part of my drive!

So, this past week, I’ve been getting passed a lot. Cars, pickups, and other trucks go zooming by. I even thought a bicycle was going to overtake me the other day! We were already known as the slow guys. Wonder what they’ll start calling us now? Oh well, I really don’t need to save time I guess. After all, what’s 13 hours out of my day? And what could I possibly do with an extra hour or two? Well, it’s just a thought but maybe have time to go see something I haven’t seen before? ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.  Amazon Profile - www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Nothing To Do

I’m not very good at doing nothing. I’m a person who likes to be busy; I build things, create things, or fix things. You know, be productive. Recently, I found out just how much it bothers me to do nothing. 

A couple of Fridays ago, I had a little trouble pulling a fifth-wheel release on my semi, as it was jammed with mud and gravel. Being a guy, my solution was to pull harder. And yes, that worked. Problem is, more than the fifth-wheel release gave way. My shoulder made a weird stretching sound and that was followed by a good dose of pain. With the shoulder getting worse over the weekend, by Monday I ended up at the emergency room. Either a torn rotator cuff or a torn muscle the doctor said. I’ll find out later this week when I get an MRI. Yay!

For now, I’m restricted to light duty at my job, which means I can’t drive. Instead, since there are no other jobs for me, I sit in my pickup for ten hours a night and write down truck and trailer numbers as they come in and out of the terminal. That’s about 20 - 25 trucks a night, which only takes about 15 minutes total. If I can still do math right, that leaves 9 hours and 45 minutes of free time.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem; I would have spent the time writing a book. But with a right arm that won’t work, that became difficult. Sure, I can write fairly well with my left hand, and did so a lot while I was in school. But not having practiced much in the last thirty years, it no longer comes naturally. While I can do it, it’s slow, very slow, and that doesn’t really work well for writing. By the time I get a few words written down, the rest of my thought is gone.

And since the Internet doesn’t like to work very well at my job, doing anything online was not really an option. That doesn’t leave much to do while confined to my pickup in the dark. I can’t build things, create things, or fix things.

So, I downloaded a few games to my tablet and spent ten hours a day playing games. A most unproductive way to spend my time. At the end of the week, I had absolutely nothing to show for it. Nothing! Not even at home. That has to be the first time I’ve accomplished a week’s worth of nothing in my life!

The good news is the arm and shoulder are getting better. I can now move my arm almost like a normal person! Still can’t lift anything but I can feel it getting stronger every day. By the time I have my MRI, I am hoping I’m already well on my way to recovery.

So, what’s my point? Well, as anyone who reads my blog may know, I am sort of a jack-of-all trades. That doesn’t mean I’m a pro at everything but I can usually do it well enough to work. Which sometimes leads to people asking if there’s anything I can’t do. And now I can honestly answer, “Nothing.” ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.  Amazon Profile - www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Vacation Plans

At my job, I’m required to take one week of my vacation in the winter months. I doubt they could make that requirement stick if anyone were to challenge it because, as my attorney once told me, vacation time is accrued during the previous calendar year and once accrued, the time is rightfully the employee’s time to take—whenever the employee chooses. Barring some sort of emergency, a company can’t legally prevent an employee from taking earned vacation. Some, I’m sure, would argue differently.

I’ll probably never know which argument would prevail in court because while I love things of this nature—arguing and court cases—I don’t mind taking a vacation in the winter.

A winter vacation is one week that I may not have to drive in adverse weather like: freezing rain, ice, or snow—“may not” being the key phrase. That is always my plan but it seldom works out. Only once, actually. I continually pick the wrong week to take off. Since I have to choose my vacation time nearly a year in advance, I really have no way of knowing which week will be bad weather so I just pick one and hope that’s the week. And nearly every single time, all but once, I am wrong. The week before, or the week after, my vacation, will be the bad weather and instead of enjoying the fact that I do not have to drive 700 miles a day in it, there I am, slipping and sliding along down the highways.

This has been the pattern for the eighteen years I’ve been at my job. Yes, seventeen times out of eighteen tries, I’ve been wrong. That’s not a very good track record. Especially since where I live, we don’t have that much bad weather. You’d think the law of averages would kick in at some point and help me out, but no.

This year was no exception. I’m currently on vacation, and high temperatures are supposed to be in the fifties and even sixties, with no freezing temps at night. And no wintery mix of misery is in the forecast. But last week...

Last week was full of ice, freezing rain to be specific. And snow. Someday, I’d love to go back to work after my winter vacation and rub it in to the other drivers that I’d missed the bad weather. But after this long, I’m beginning to think it’s a lost cause. I just can’t seem to hit it right. Well, except that once.

But about that, the one time that I guessed right. That was the year I had plans to go on a trip with my wife to attend a meeting for her job. So, I got to drive with chains for hours through the same ice and snow as everyone else at my job. And down the same road. Maybe I should invest in a Farmer’s Almanac. ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.  Amazon Profile - www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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That's Crazy

Back when I first started driving a truck and had a little difficulty backing into tight areas, I had the “pleasure” of being sent to a downtown Chicago business where the only truck access was through the alley. A very narrow alley. About halfway down was the dock I was supposed to back into. A recessed dock with concrete walls on both sides. The walls started as just small curbs but the further down the dock recessed, the higher the walls became. They were eight and a half feet apart—the exact width of my trailer—but due to all of the trucks that had scraped them over the years, in effect, the space was a little wider. There actually were several such docks, in Chicago and other mid-west cities, but this particular one has a story.

These days, I would love the challenge—backing off of a narrow alley into such a small opening, making sure to position the trailer precisely between the walls, turning it right when it needed to turn, and keeping it straight all the way to the dock—that would be fun. Back then, not so much.

The guy on the dock, who told me where to back in, said not to worry if it took me a while, because they were going to lunch. So, I had an hour—to do the impossible. Or what seemed impossible at the time.

I waited until everyone left to move the truck. I certainly didn’t need an audience! Once I was alone, I began. Doing a set up, I started backing, angling the trailer toward the opening. Then, when it didn’t work, I repeated the process a few times. Every time, I had to stop. I didn’t want to add any fresh scrapes to the walls—or my trailer.

I was glad no one was watching my many failed attempts. Except there was someone watching. And old man who hadn’t left for lunch. He sat there on a bucket, munching on a sandwich—and watching me. I hadn’t noticed him until he got up and, still chewing his sandwich, slowly walked over.

He nodded to me and climbed up on the step of the truck. “Want some advice?”

I said I could use some and he told me, “Just run over the curb. Makes the dock a lot wider at the start and gives you more room to turn the trailer. Then, all you have to do is back up. If you can back straight, you’ll have it made.”

Seemed reasonable, and I knew instantly he was right. I could drop the trailer wheels off the curb where it was eight or nine inches high and easily give myself an extra ten feet. I took his advice and in only a minute or so, I was backed in. The old man waited until I set the brakes and then satisfied I had made it walked off down the alley.

When the loading crew came back from lunch, the dock guy asked if I had any trouble. “No,” I said. One of your workers helped me.”

“One of my workers?”

I nodded and described the guy and what he had told me. “I figured he must have been a truck driver once.”

The guy on the dock laughed. “Charlie? No. He doesn’t even drive. Doesn’t do much of anything. He’s just a crazy man who wanders around down here. I wouldn’t take advice from him about anything.”

Well, that was comforting! A little disconcerting, actually. I wasn’t sure who was crazy, the old man or me for listening to him. But the thing is, his advice worked. Pretty well too. However, I think you can see why after that I was a little more motivated to learn to back up on my own. ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.  Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Tired Of Flats

It’s only logical that a truck driver is probably going to have more flat tires, and/or blowouts, than the average person. More tires plus more miles equals more flats. As the saying goes, “It goes with the territory.” And since I drive a truck with twenty-four tires instead of the usual eighteen, I’m more apt to have a flat than even the normal truck driver. I know this, and am used to it. It’s just part of the job. Summer is the worst time; weak tires do not fare well in the heat.

But this year, I’ve been sort of lucky. Down time due to flats has been pretty low—I’ve only had one. Until the week before last.

On Wednesday, I’d gone less than thirty miles when one of my drive tires decided that 14.7 psi was enough pressure. It wasn’t as it turns out. But, I drove on to the tire shop and got it fixed, losing only an hour. Not too bad.

The next day, I made it a little further. In fact, I was almost done with my run when a drop axle tire blew. That was an easy fix, though. There were no scales to cross and it was dark so I just lifted the axle and continued on my way. Wasn’t even five minutes late. So far, so good, right?

Then came Friday. I was sent to a terminal pick up a loaded trailer and when I got there, I discovered not one, not two, and not even three or four, but five, yes, five flat tires. Since it was the only loaded trailer there, I had to wait while they all were fixed or replaced. A two hour delay, on a Friday night was rather discouraging. That two hours was cutting into my weekend. Five flats on one trailer? That is a little ridiculous.

I’m usually in a pretty upbeat mood when I know I have two days off coming up so, the wasted time left me a little deflated. Think I’m ready for a vacation to roll around. After a week of flats, seven of them, this truck driver is tired. ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Road Signs

I saw the sign. In fact, I saw all the signs. Speed Zone Ahead. Reduced Speed Ahead. Construction Zone. 50 MPH. And, although it irks me to no end to slow down, I did.

And apparently, I was the only one on the road that day who could read. No one else was the least bit fazed by the signs. I don’t even think most of them turned off their cruise. Me, I don’t like tickets.

As they all went zooming past, some frowned at me, some honked, others gave me wild hand gestures—at least one finger, anyway—and a few felt compelled to yell what I assume were obscenities—it’s nearly impossible to hear anything in a truck so I can’t be sure.

I did hear the sirens though, and saw the flashing lights coming up from behind. And then brake lights ahead.

My first thought was, “There’s no way the cops can pull over all of them.” (There must have been twenty or more vehicles). Then I realized the cops weren’t after the speeding motorists. They were on their way to the wreck. The wreck that blocked the road ahead of me.

Well, seeing that, I immediately took the exit. The exit that had evidently been built just for my convenience, and also the exit everyone in front of me had already passed. I drove alongside the freeway for a few blocks, and then got back on—bypassing the wreck in the process.

As for all those people in a hurry, the ones who passed me, well, they got to observe a crash site response first hand! I heard from other drivers that the show lasted about an hour before the police finally decided to let the traffic stuck behind the wreck turn around and go back to the exit. The drivers said I was really lucky I’d missed it.

Lucky? Really? Nope. All the signs were there. And I do know how to read! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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The Joys Of Truck Driving

First, the bad news: I’m writing this blog post from the side of the road at 3:30 am. I hit a deer with the semi and it took out the radiator, and the bumper, and the grille. Another driver is on his way to get the trailer and a tow truck is coming to take the tractor. And hopefully, they arrive in that order. Since the other driver is my ride back to the terminal, I’d really like him to get here first. Otherwise, I’ll be sitting on the side of the freeway—literally—or, standing, I suppose. In any event, with no vehicle, the freeway doesn’t sound like a fun place to be.

I could have gotten a ride earlier but company policy says the driver must remain with the vehicle until it is picked up. That way if someone comes along and runs into the truck, the driver will be sure to be injured! (Yeah, it doesn’t make much sense to us either). But if the tow truck hasn’t arrived by the time the next driver gets here, I’ll be leaving the tractor sit all by it’s lonesome.

Now, the good news: It was the semi that got damaged, not my pickup, and I’m still getting paid. So, I hit a deer and get three hours of extra pay! Not a bad deal. Only thing is, I have to sit here with nothing to do for, well, three hours.

I’ve hit deer before but it never really dawned on me that my job description included hunting! I should do this more often! It’s a much cheaper way to hunt. Unfortunately however, there will be no venison going in my freezer. Deer do not tend to fare well after being run over by a semi and from the looks of the right side of my trailer, I got him with the full length of the truck.

Oh, just got some great news! I’ve been informed that I have about another forty-five minutes to wait. So, with nothing better to do, I think I’ll take a nap. Maybe. As long as nobody runs into the back end of my trailer!

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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