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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