Off-Road Driving

Keep the dirty side down—a truck driver’s way of saying have a safe trip. In the case of the place I drive, where we haul garbage to a landfill, through the man-made mud (thanks to truck loads of water constantly being dumped to keep down the dust, all sides of the truck are dirty. So, the saying loses some of its significance.

The road to the site is paved but narrow and has a few corners. When meeting other traffic, you absolutely can’t move over. Though it goes against all instinct, you have to hug the centerline because the 1-foot shoulder is very soft. If a trailer tire goes onto the shoulder, you’re sunk—or the trailer is. The shoulder gives way and it pulls the trailer, and then the truck, right into the ditch.

As you can imagine, the ditch is not all that solid either so the entire truck then sinks—well, at the least the side that is not on the pavement does. And then physics finishes things off, giving the driver a ride they hadn’t anticipated as the truck and trailer turns over.

While this scene is far from an everyday occurrence, it does happen occasionally. Last Monday was the latest incident. Over the next two days, I got a good look (several looks actually) at the truck laying there on the side of the road. Surprisingly, it didn’t look all that damaged. Of course, I couldn’t see the side that was on the ground.

What I did notice though, was that the bottom of the truck, or what was supposed to be the bottom of the truck, was by far the cleanest side. Apparently, the swirling spray of water from driving in the man-made puddles, washes away the mud on the underside but doesn’t do such a magnificent job on the rest of the truck. This realization has led to a modified version of the old trucker’s saying—that will probably never be understood by other drivers unless they work at my job —keep the clean side down! ~

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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Trains Or Trucks

It’s no secret there’s no love lost between the trucking industry and the railroad. Being a truck driver, it’s obvious which side I’m on in this grand debate over which mode of transportation is better, safer, more reliable, etc. The railroad types are continually telling me that trains are the safest, most reliable, far more efficient than trucks, better for the environment, and do not cause traffic problems like major backups or accidents.

Um, yeah, sure. I suppose that’s why I’m currently sitting here on a two-lane highway, at a dead stop! Actually, the reason I’m sitting here, as I have been for the last six hours, is because on the other side of the river, where the freeway is, and where I normally drive, there is a huge fire, which has produced at least one explosion, and has closed the freeway as well as caused an entire town to be evacuated.

What is on fire? Well, a lot of things, trees, wooden bridges, and maybe even a few buildings. Oh yeah, and an oil tanker. A train oil tanker. That’s literally adding fuel to the fire! Not only is the train burning but it has derailed as well, taking out a lot of track, bridges, and other structures.

So, here I am, along with what looks like about a million other people who made the mistake of wanting to go somewhere on this Friday afternoon, at a standstill due to the massive traffic jam—thanks to the train. It’s taken me six hours to get here, and “here” is exactly twenty miles from where I started this detour.

So, tell me again, dear railroad people, how trains are better, safer, and more reliable. And as for being environmentally friendly, I doubt the fish are convinced of that at this point—not after swimming in burning oil-laced water and then being doused with flame retardant.

I do have to give the railroad credit though. They are on the ball. It only took them a matter of a few hours to bring in all the necessary equipment and supplies to repair the tracks and bridges. They’re ready to fix things and get the trains rolling again—well, as soon as the fire gets put out. There are thousands of railroad ties, loads of rock, and rails, along with bulldozers, backhoes, and a various assortment of other heavy equipment. All the needed supplies and equipment is lined up down the nearby exits and on ramps and down both sides of the freeway. Yep, the freeway. On TRUCKS! They had it TRUCKED in. But then, how else were they going to get it on site? The railroad is sort of, well, gone. The trucks are still running though! ~

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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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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Off On The Wrong Track

After twenty years of driving a truck, I thought I’d seen it all when it comes to crazy things in the trucking world. But a few weeks ago, I came across something new. Something I had definitely not seen before.

The weather was cold and a lot of trailer brakes were freezing up. A few of the newer drivers at my job had never experienced the joys of that and appeared to be having a difficult time of it. Actually, it’s really not that big of a problem. If the brakes are frozen, all it takes is a little rapping on the bottom of the drum with a hammer. But, if a guy doesn’t know that, or know exactly how and where to hit, it can be a nightmare. One guy apparently decided it was too much of a hassle and didn’t bother.

He made it out of the terminal fine. But as soon as he got to the county road where the ice gave way to dry pavement, he quickly blew two tires. It seems rubber doesn’t last long when skidding across the road.

I was on my way in, about two miles from the terminal, when I saw him sitting on the road. I stopped to see if he was okay, figuring he’d blown some tires. All this I’d seen before. Every winter someone does it. Usually, however, drivers do not stop and just sit there. We were on a narrow two-lane road with no shoulders. It was dark and he’d turned his lights off. Anyone coming around the corner would have a hard time seeing him.

I suggested he drive a half mile down the road to a big graveled lot and turn around. He’d already ruined the tires, it wasn’t going to hurt much to take the trailer back and get another one. Besides, he needed to get off the road.

But Mr. New Driver had other ideas. He thought it’d be better if he just backed all the way to the yard. Yeah, that sounded like a plan! Back two miles around corners, up and down a few hills, down a road with no painted lines, no shoulders, and a ditch on either side, while it’s dark. A new driver! Yeah, I didn’t want to be around for that!

I rolled my eyes, said okay, and drove on to the yard. I had another trip to make, so I switched trailers and headed back out. But I didn’t make it far. That same guy was blocking the road not too far from where I’d left him. At first, I thought he’d just gotten sideways but the closer I got, it was plain he had bigger problems.

Instead of backing all the way, he’d decided to use the railroad crossing to turn around. Yes, he’d backed the trailer off the road, down the tracks, then got the tires of his cab stuck in between the railroad ties. The rest of his cab was sprawled across the road, effectively blocking all traffic. He couldn’t move forward or backward. And now, instead of two blown tires, he had six.

Even more alarming was the guy’s suggestion that he get a ride with me and just leave his truck there—on the tracks! Our shop mechanic, who was on his way home, and I, both nixed that. It took over an hour and involved a chain and me towing the other truck but we did get the guy off the tracks and back to the yard.

Now for the kicker. While backing a truck to the yard from where the guy had stopped seemed like a bad idea, it is certainly not impossible. I know. I’ve done it. Twice. (No, I didn’t blow out my tires). Neither time was by choice. On both occasions, the train had derailed. Since that takes days to clean up, I was left with only one option: back up for two miles around corners, up and down a few hills, down a road with no painted lines, no shoulders, and a ditch on either side, in the dark. I made it just fine too. Of course, I didn’t try backing down the railroad tracks. Call me crazy but I’m pretty sure those were made for trains, not trucks!

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, Diesel Books, 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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Wrong Way

I guess it’s inevitable, given the number of miles I drive, that I seem to run into more than my share of drivers going the wrong way. Not literally run into them—at least not yet—but I do have occasion to see them quite frequently. Sometimes, I’m lucky and they’re on the other side of the freeway but far too often, they are on my side, barreling toward me at full speed. Being in a semi-truck, I’m not too concerned about my well being, but at a combined speed pushing 140 mph, something tells me these people wouldn’t fare too well in the event of a crash. Me, I’d just have a lot of paperwork to fill out.

I’ve written about this before, I know. But recent events warrant a revisiting.

This past week, I had the opportunity to meet another of these wayward individuals who obviously had lost their way. I saw the car coming, headlights shining brightly, and strangely, on my side of the divider. The good news is the approaching car was in the left lane and I was in the right lane.

The first instinct in such a situation, is to move to the right and get off the road as far as possible. That’s just human instinct. But not being human, the DOT doesn’t see it that way. As a truck driver, I’m not allowed to leave my lane—even to avoid a crash. If I were to do so and cause another crash or if the driver coming at me suddenly figures out his mistake and swerves into me, it could, and likely would, be considered my fault. On the other hand, although there are no guarantees, if I maintain my own lane and there is a crash, I stand a much better chance of not being blamed. Brings a whole new meaning to stand your ground!

The “experts” will tell you when anything like this occurs there is no time to think about what to do. You just react. From the time you realize what is happening until the car goes zooming past is only seconds. Due to (too much) experience, I know the approaching vehicle is usually less than an eighth mile away when the realization occurs. Depending on the speed of both vehicles, that’s somewhere around three to four seconds at the most. Not much time to react. Yet, when it happens it seems as if everything slows down, providing ample time to think all sorts of thoughts and assess the situation.

As soon as I determined the vehicle was on my side of the road, I checked my mirror. A car was slowly trying to pass me. Due to the slight curve of the highway to the right, I knew the driver would be unable to see the oncoming car. And, being beside me, he would have nowhere to go. But what could I do? It’s not like I had time to write a message and hang it out the window!

But, I didn’t have to. I hit my turn signal and abruptly moved to the left, toward the center line, making it appear I was coming over, while not leaving my lane. My action had the intended effect. The car passing me suddenly slowed—amid much cussing from the driver, directed at me, I’m sure. But then immediately, the driver must have seen the headlights coming. He swerved into the right lane behind me so fast, I thought he might wreck.

The wrong-way driver flew past us both and disappeared down the road. The guy in the car behind me stayed there for the next few miles, apparently using me for a shield. In a matter of seconds, I’d gone from the stereotypical truck driver everybody loves to hate, to the guy who could provide a welcomed safety cushion. I know I probably gave the guy beside me a heart attack when he thought I was going to crush him. And I’m sure I was called every name in the book! And then some! I just wish I could have heard what he was saying because I think I had the perfect response:

“You’re welcome.”

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, Diesel Books, 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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Rave Soup For The Writer’s Soul: An Anthology

Various Authors

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The Lettuce Trip

Sometimes, people don’t make a lot of sense. Did I ever tell about how I drove almost 2000 miles because of a piece of lettuce? A piece of lettuce about the size of a postage stamp, no less! It’s true. Here’s the story.

I picked up a load of recycled cardboard. Twenty-four big bales. I’m sure you’ve seen them, either being hauled on a flatbed or maybe at a grocery store, waiting to be picked up. Trucks take them back to the paper mill to be recycled into new cardboard. There are different classifications and grades of cardboard, each with their own set of rules for the minimum standard as to their condition.

I drove from Detroit, over to Chicago, and then up through Wisconsin, and finally just across the state line back into Michigan. I was supposed to deliver the load to a place in Memominee, Michigan, a 650-mile trip.

Everything went fine until I was backed into the dock expecting to get my trailer unloaded. I waited. Then, waited some more. Finally, a guy came up, knocking on the door of the truck. I knew there was a problem when I saw the white hardhat. A supervisor usually doesn’t step foot outside the safe confines of his office or the little area of which he is in charge.

But apparently, at this particular location, it required a supervisor to refuse a load. He escorted me inside to the loading dock to show me why. I was thinking there was something drastically wrong with the load, you know, like a dead body or something. But no, there was no body. In fact, I couldn’t see anything wrong at all. Not until the guy in the white hat pointed it out—a single piece of lettuce. That’s all. Just a about a one-inch square piece of lettuce. But that was enough. My load wasn’t up to their standard for cleanliness. He wrote “Contaminated” and “Refused” across my bill of lading. Evidently, lettuce is a highly toxic substance! Who knew?

I called my dispatcher and was told to take it back. So, I headed for Detroit. Another 650 miles.

The trip had covered two days. I’d driven 1300 hundred miles and the load was right back where it had started. I dropped the trailer and left. Then, the very next day, I was sent to pick up the same load again—minus the offending piece of lettuce. Another 650 miles. This time the load was accepted.

All in all, I’d covered 1950 miles in three days, for one measly load. Not that I minded a lot. I still got paid for all the miles plus, they paid me to pick it up and to unload. And then, to pick up and unload it again. And, then again. Something tells me that load wasn’t too profitable for someone.

The thing is, I could have just removed the lettuce myself. A quick flick of my wrist and Voilà, problem solved. I even offered. But no, that was simply not allowed, I was told. The supervisor in the white hat said we had to follow the “rules.” Yeah. Sometimes people don’t make a lot of sense.

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Just Stay

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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, Diesel Books, 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 http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordpress.com