Two Days in New England: Avoiding the Paparazzi and Large Antlered Animals!
Oh Boy, it has been one of those weeks, let me tell you. One of those weeks when the sun is shining, the temps are very comfortable to be unloading furniture and I’ve been visiting some fantastic places and everything just goes pretty close to perfect. It’s one of those weeks where every now and then it crosses my mind that I’m actually being paid for all this fun I am having, and that’s a pretty neat thing.
I left Leesport on Sunday late afternoon, my first trip started in New Bedford Mass, and finished in the next town down, Fall River. Us Leesport folk do not see much of New England (with the exception of Connecticut) , we have a group of guys running out of our Mass drop lot who handle that and Canada). My trip looks very simple on paper, 3 drops in New Bedford and 3 in Fall River. I know I have not been to any of these customers which is always exciting, but it’s also why I said "close to perfect" in my opening statements. I find sometimes things can be pretty darn perfect with adding any excitement to them at all.
The first three were rather simple to find, and everything went as easy as I like. That was an interesting town, one of the many ones I have visited where I wish I had more time to hang around a bit. In fact, the first stop of the day was in clear view, and within walking distance of the Atlantic Ocean. I noticed this on my way out, while turning left into downtown, that I could have parked in the lot overnight. Oh it would have been nice! Camped out in the truck with the windows open, the sound and smell of the ocean, some nice Jazz on the XM and perhaps even a cigar! But I didn’t know there would have been parking, it was freezing cold ( so no open windows) and I don’t smoke cigars, and so it goes. I could have at least parked for a few minutes and took a walk down for a look see if I didn’t have more work to be done. Turns out I would have had the time, but without knowing that I usually get locked into the task at hand. So lets move down to Fall River shall we?
The first Fall River store was found easily, but wasn’t so easy to get into, but I have seen much worse. Before leaving, I called the next stop, which was literally 2 miles away. Even though I am just a few clicks downstream, I’ll call because trouble can lurk anywhere when armed with a large vehicle. Here I ran into a problem. This guy I was talking to irked me to no end. He had an foreign accent (Fall River turns out, has a large Portugese population. I have no problem with foreigners or their languages, I myself am a student of Espanol. It was this guys attitude; that I should know where his store was, and how complicated it would be from where I was. I simply asked if he was in a shopping plaza (as some customers are) and he laughed at me for even suggesting that. His directions were hazy at best; I have given a name to these types of direction giver outters: The Cryptic Ass. He almost pushed me to lose my patience verbally, but I was able to pry some kind of direction from him and I was even able to get the feeling he did not like me before he hung up on me!
I did find it, using my fancy Laptop GPS and a couple street names he threw at me. The last turn was so hairy I had to slide the wheels on the trailer all the forward to make the swing around a parked car. I pulled up to what I thought was the building and called this cherry fellow to announce my arrival at what I hoped was the right location. It was, and he said he would send someone to me. While I waited in anticipation of if who ever he sent would like me, I got out and started to walk around and try to come up with a plan of how I would back up to their garage door in a lot the size of a postage stamp, with a telephone pole right in the middle, just for fun. The unloader person showed up, and I was pretty sure from his attitude, he was friends with the guy on the phone. This is an actual transcript of out initial meeting:
Receiver Dude: Back up to that door.
Me: How do you suggest I do that?
Receiver Dude: Pull forward, back up, keep the rear of the trailer near the fence then swing it in.
Me: Okay, I’ll give it a shot.
Receiver Dude: It’s all yours, I’ll be way in the back (pointing to inside the building) come get me once you get it in there.
This was a more difficult blind side back. Blind sack backs are called that because you are backing the trailer at angle where the trailer is angled towards the passenger side and you may as well be blind. Usually you have to hop out and look (sometimes hundreds of times) at where the trailer is going, then either make corrections or keep going, at least until it sounds expensive! This was a more difficult blind side back for varied reasons. Neat stuff like cars parked in the street, the aforementioned telephone pole, cars in the lot, the fence and so on. But Receiver Dude underestimated my abilities, and I got it in rather quickly, both amazing myself and instantly earning his respect before he had a chance to make it way into the back of the building. We actually got to talking and he was a pretty decent guy. He didn’t know (and was surprised to hear) I was from PA and I hoped he relayed that fact to the rude phone guy and he would spend the rest of his days regretting being such a meanie to such a nice trucker such as myself!
And that brings me to my final stop on this fine Monday. I called this particular store and the gentleman also had that same accent, but was much more pleasant and even had a sense of humor. After telling him it would be my first trip to his store he said in the most sarcastic way, that I’ll be wanting to come back over and over. I had to pass his store, (then wave bye, he said) make a U turn up the road and come back and take a road that went behind his store. The road was at such an angle that necessitated the U turn, and it was a very small road with cars parked on both sides. I saw a loading dock in back, at an angle with obstacles, that made me question if anything in this town could be easy. The guy who showed up back there asked me how many pieces I had for him (18), then told me just to try and get it close to the dock. So I did. Perfectly flush and centered with no space between. When I got inside I asked him if that was close enough, and he replied that I make it look too easy. Maybe, I thought or I just got lucky, but I kept that to myself!
It was a little dicey just getting out of that town and back to the interstate, which I would have gotten out and kissed had there not been cars traveling at high rates of speed over it. I was dispatched to pick up a load from our drop yard in Mass, which I suspected might happen since it was only 70 some miles to there compared to the high 200's back to Leesport. I had 7 stops for Tuesday starting way up in Gorham, New Hampshire and ending in North Walpole, New Hampshire with assorted stops along the way including a few in Vermont. This made me happy, New Hampshire and Vermont are great places to travel and I looked forward to this run. Oh, and it was only 12:30 in the afternoon on Monday when I was done delivering. As harrowing as it was at times, it was all over rather quickly. And I had plenty of time to get up into New Hampshire.
I had enough time to take a shower at a luxurious truckstop and even give the truck a quick 15 minute detailing. I had the foresight to call the customer to verify directions and he informed me they had a Super Wal-Mart across the street, and a truckstop in town. I could even park at the store if need be. I decided to go all the way to Gorham and see if I could get a parking space at the truckstop. I was guessing it to be only a four and a half ride tops, and I had plenty of time to make that and keep it legal.
I made trails out the Mass Pike to 495 North, where I would hop onto interstate 93 North into New Hampshire. It was rather smooth travels, a few brake checks when I first got onto 495, then it fell into a steady, relaxing pace. It’s a six line highway, 3 on my side, 3 on the opposing side. A school bus appeared in front of me a few hundred feet or so, and seemed to be committed to never departing the middle lane, no matter what. The traffic, including from the on ramps, was light enough that I was comfortable staying in the far right lane. As time went on, I found myself approaching the rear of the bus in that middle lane, and was greeted by some waves and smiles from some lovely young women passengers occupying the rear section. I might be getting old, but I could not tell you how old these girls might have been, but I’ll guess they were probably in the 14-16 year range.
So we’re kind of locked in that position, me, slightly back to the right of the bus. These girls are really trying to get my attention, and I manage a slight smile and nod as if to acknowledge them by dipping my hat and saying "ladies". As we go, I am listening to my boys Opie and Anthony on XM, which is a show based around comedy, and something funny is said that causes me to want to smile. But I try not to, because I don’t want these who knows how old girls, and more importantly, the chaperones who may reside up front, think I am smiling at them like some creepy truck driver guy. But it’s tough not to smile at something funny on the radio let alone wildly waving pretty girls, so I made a conscious decision to tap off the cruise and lose some momentum. But before I did, I saw what I thought was a strobe light, which are sometimes used on school buses, but I hadn’t seen one the whole time I had been behind it. AHHH, there it was again, what the heck? Turns out they were actually taking pictures of me now, and being about 20 minutes or less to being nighttime, it was kind of a bright disturbance to say the least.
I know what these girls are up to. They are going to splatter my precious mug all over their My Space pages so all of their friends can see this most handsome trucker they happened upon, all the while blinding me in the process! I think we can all remember the tragic ending to the Princess across the pond, so I found it fitting to put some distance between me and the Paparazzi. Not to worry, my exit for 93 North came up shortly thereafter, and I went my separate way. Can’t really blame those ladies though, they probably have never been so close to a Superstar before, and who knows when they might again?
I shot way the heck up 93 deep into New Hampshire. As I got further and further up there, there were occasional signs that said "Brake for Moose, your life could depend on it". Okay, I’ll be sure and remember that if I see one, which I don’t think I ever did in real life, but I have heard stories how about how big they can be. As I neared my exit, the interstate actually went into one lane in either direction, with a speed limit of only 45. What the heck? I’m not sure why, it wasn’t especially curvy or hilly so I figured maybe this was heavily populated moose area or something.
Exiting off the highway heading into the middle of nowhere, there was another moose sign like the one before. But this one had a sign underneath it that said "hundreds of collisions". Okay, I get it, but is it really necessary to scare us motorists with signs saying there were hundreds of collisions? What is it, like one of those MacDonalds signs that say billions and billions served? As the years pass by and even more people collide with the moose will they update it to say "thousands and thousands of collisions"? Regardless, I was now on high alert for moose, and since it was nearing the end of my day those darn signs and slight fatigue had me paranoid. WHAT WAS THAT? Uh, nothing. On occasion I kept thinking I saw things towards the shoulder. There was hardly any traffic on the road, every now and again I might have passed a lonely truck going the other way. Sometimes the squawk would break on the CB, like someone transmitting from far away where you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but I thought for sure every time it happened I heard the word "moose."
I rolled into Gorham, Moose collision free. Gorham is a very small town in the middle of nowhere, and I found a spot at the truckstop. As middle of nowhere this place was, I actually had free wireless internet, so I was able to hop on line a bit before hitting the sack.. I checked the weather also and noticed they were calling for a chance of snow showers that night, and it was pretty darn cold up there!
Upon waking and taking a look around, it was apparent it had either snowed or rained lightly, just enough to make the ground wet, but not wet enough to destroy my efforts of detailing the truck the previous afternoon. I went inside for coffee and was talking to some guy who said it was rather slick that morning and someone he works with almost lost it and flew off a bridge. I was thinking I should thank my lucky stars the weather was clear the night before on my journey here. All I would have needed was some slick roads in the dark so then I could have possibly jack knifed on some ice, right into a moose!
The sun was just starting to break through the clouds, and as I made my stop in town and headed back the way I came I was struck with how much I missed coming up in the dark. It was absolutely beautiful up there, some really neat mountains and all. I actually pulled over on the shoulder on my way out of town to take some pictures but was dismayed to find I lost my darn card thingy for the digital camera. I was so distraught I thought of calling dispatch to see if they could send me up here again in quick order, but that was probably unlikely to happen. It’ll probably be months if not longer till I get back up there.
I made all my stops and called in empty at the last one. This is the moment I was waiting for...would I get another load from the drop yard, or head home to Leesport? I really kind of wanted to stay up there, maybe score a trip to Maine perhaps? But it wasn’t to be, and I was sent back to Leesport. Oh well, it sure was fun while it lasted! I had just enough hours to get home since I started my day late so it worked out to my benefit that I made Gorham the previous night. After a safe arrival home around midnight, I parked my truck at a lot near my home that is only a 15 minute walk away. It was a nice clear night for a walk, and a quiet time to reflect on the week so far. The stars were out, my small town was very still at this hour, and I was sure I wouldn’t have to worry about the Paparazzi or coming head to head with a moose!
I left Leesport on Sunday late afternoon, my first trip started in New Bedford Mass, and finished in the next town down, Fall River. Us Leesport folk do not see much of New England (with the exception of Connecticut) , we have a group of guys running out of our Mass drop lot who handle that and Canada). My trip looks very simple on paper, 3 drops in New Bedford and 3 in Fall River. I know I have not been to any of these customers which is always exciting, but it’s also why I said "close to perfect" in my opening statements. I find sometimes things can be pretty darn perfect with adding any excitement to them at all.
The first three were rather simple to find, and everything went as easy as I like. That was an interesting town, one of the many ones I have visited where I wish I had more time to hang around a bit. In fact, the first stop of the day was in clear view, and within walking distance of the Atlantic Ocean. I noticed this on my way out, while turning left into downtown, that I could have parked in the lot overnight. Oh it would have been nice! Camped out in the truck with the windows open, the sound and smell of the ocean, some nice Jazz on the XM and perhaps even a cigar! But I didn’t know there would have been parking, it was freezing cold ( so no open windows) and I don’t smoke cigars, and so it goes. I could have at least parked for a few minutes and took a walk down for a look see if I didn’t have more work to be done. Turns out I would have had the time, but without knowing that I usually get locked into the task at hand. So lets move down to Fall River shall we?
The first Fall River store was found easily, but wasn’t so easy to get into, but I have seen much worse. Before leaving, I called the next stop, which was literally 2 miles away. Even though I am just a few clicks downstream, I’ll call because trouble can lurk anywhere when armed with a large vehicle. Here I ran into a problem. This guy I was talking to irked me to no end. He had an foreign accent (Fall River turns out, has a large Portugese population. I have no problem with foreigners or their languages, I myself am a student of Espanol. It was this guys attitude; that I should know where his store was, and how complicated it would be from where I was. I simply asked if he was in a shopping plaza (as some customers are) and he laughed at me for even suggesting that. His directions were hazy at best; I have given a name to these types of direction giver outters: The Cryptic Ass. He almost pushed me to lose my patience verbally, but I was able to pry some kind of direction from him and I was even able to get the feeling he did not like me before he hung up on me!
I did find it, using my fancy Laptop GPS and a couple street names he threw at me. The last turn was so hairy I had to slide the wheels on the trailer all the forward to make the swing around a parked car. I pulled up to what I thought was the building and called this cherry fellow to announce my arrival at what I hoped was the right location. It was, and he said he would send someone to me. While I waited in anticipation of if who ever he sent would like me, I got out and started to walk around and try to come up with a plan of how I would back up to their garage door in a lot the size of a postage stamp, with a telephone pole right in the middle, just for fun. The unloader person showed up, and I was pretty sure from his attitude, he was friends with the guy on the phone. This is an actual transcript of out initial meeting:
Receiver Dude: Back up to that door.
Me: How do you suggest I do that?
Receiver Dude: Pull forward, back up, keep the rear of the trailer near the fence then swing it in.
Me: Okay, I’ll give it a shot.
Receiver Dude: It’s all yours, I’ll be way in the back (pointing to inside the building) come get me once you get it in there.
This was a more difficult blind side back. Blind sack backs are called that because you are backing the trailer at angle where the trailer is angled towards the passenger side and you may as well be blind. Usually you have to hop out and look (sometimes hundreds of times) at where the trailer is going, then either make corrections or keep going, at least until it sounds expensive! This was a more difficult blind side back for varied reasons. Neat stuff like cars parked in the street, the aforementioned telephone pole, cars in the lot, the fence and so on. But Receiver Dude underestimated my abilities, and I got it in rather quickly, both amazing myself and instantly earning his respect before he had a chance to make it way into the back of the building. We actually got to talking and he was a pretty decent guy. He didn’t know (and was surprised to hear) I was from PA and I hoped he relayed that fact to the rude phone guy and he would spend the rest of his days regretting being such a meanie to such a nice trucker such as myself!
And that brings me to my final stop on this fine Monday. I called this particular store and the gentleman also had that same accent, but was much more pleasant and even had a sense of humor. After telling him it would be my first trip to his store he said in the most sarcastic way, that I’ll be wanting to come back over and over. I had to pass his store, (then wave bye, he said) make a U turn up the road and come back and take a road that went behind his store. The road was at such an angle that necessitated the U turn, and it was a very small road with cars parked on both sides. I saw a loading dock in back, at an angle with obstacles, that made me question if anything in this town could be easy. The guy who showed up back there asked me how many pieces I had for him (18), then told me just to try and get it close to the dock. So I did. Perfectly flush and centered with no space between. When I got inside I asked him if that was close enough, and he replied that I make it look too easy. Maybe, I thought or I just got lucky, but I kept that to myself!
It was a little dicey just getting out of that town and back to the interstate, which I would have gotten out and kissed had there not been cars traveling at high rates of speed over it. I was dispatched to pick up a load from our drop yard in Mass, which I suspected might happen since it was only 70 some miles to there compared to the high 200's back to Leesport. I had 7 stops for Tuesday starting way up in Gorham, New Hampshire and ending in North Walpole, New Hampshire with assorted stops along the way including a few in Vermont. This made me happy, New Hampshire and Vermont are great places to travel and I looked forward to this run. Oh, and it was only 12:30 in the afternoon on Monday when I was done delivering. As harrowing as it was at times, it was all over rather quickly. And I had plenty of time to get up into New Hampshire.
I had enough time to take a shower at a luxurious truckstop and even give the truck a quick 15 minute detailing. I had the foresight to call the customer to verify directions and he informed me they had a Super Wal-Mart across the street, and a truckstop in town. I could even park at the store if need be. I decided to go all the way to Gorham and see if I could get a parking space at the truckstop. I was guessing it to be only a four and a half ride tops, and I had plenty of time to make that and keep it legal.
I made trails out the Mass Pike to 495 North, where I would hop onto interstate 93 North into New Hampshire. It was rather smooth travels, a few brake checks when I first got onto 495, then it fell into a steady, relaxing pace. It’s a six line highway, 3 on my side, 3 on the opposing side. A school bus appeared in front of me a few hundred feet or so, and seemed to be committed to never departing the middle lane, no matter what. The traffic, including from the on ramps, was light enough that I was comfortable staying in the far right lane. As time went on, I found myself approaching the rear of the bus in that middle lane, and was greeted by some waves and smiles from some lovely young women passengers occupying the rear section. I might be getting old, but I could not tell you how old these girls might have been, but I’ll guess they were probably in the 14-16 year range.
So we’re kind of locked in that position, me, slightly back to the right of the bus. These girls are really trying to get my attention, and I manage a slight smile and nod as if to acknowledge them by dipping my hat and saying "ladies". As we go, I am listening to my boys Opie and Anthony on XM, which is a show based around comedy, and something funny is said that causes me to want to smile. But I try not to, because I don’t want these who knows how old girls, and more importantly, the chaperones who may reside up front, think I am smiling at them like some creepy truck driver guy. But it’s tough not to smile at something funny on the radio let alone wildly waving pretty girls, so I made a conscious decision to tap off the cruise and lose some momentum. But before I did, I saw what I thought was a strobe light, which are sometimes used on school buses, but I hadn’t seen one the whole time I had been behind it. AHHH, there it was again, what the heck? Turns out they were actually taking pictures of me now, and being about 20 minutes or less to being nighttime, it was kind of a bright disturbance to say the least.
I know what these girls are up to. They are going to splatter my precious mug all over their My Space pages so all of their friends can see this most handsome trucker they happened upon, all the while blinding me in the process! I think we can all remember the tragic ending to the Princess across the pond, so I found it fitting to put some distance between me and the Paparazzi. Not to worry, my exit for 93 North came up shortly thereafter, and I went my separate way. Can’t really blame those ladies though, they probably have never been so close to a Superstar before, and who knows when they might again?
I shot way the heck up 93 deep into New Hampshire. As I got further and further up there, there were occasional signs that said "Brake for Moose, your life could depend on it". Okay, I’ll be sure and remember that if I see one, which I don’t think I ever did in real life, but I have heard stories how about how big they can be. As I neared my exit, the interstate actually went into one lane in either direction, with a speed limit of only 45. What the heck? I’m not sure why, it wasn’t especially curvy or hilly so I figured maybe this was heavily populated moose area or something.
Exiting off the highway heading into the middle of nowhere, there was another moose sign like the one before. But this one had a sign underneath it that said "hundreds of collisions". Okay, I get it, but is it really necessary to scare us motorists with signs saying there were hundreds of collisions? What is it, like one of those MacDonalds signs that say billions and billions served? As the years pass by and even more people collide with the moose will they update it to say "thousands and thousands of collisions"? Regardless, I was now on high alert for moose, and since it was nearing the end of my day those darn signs and slight fatigue had me paranoid. WHAT WAS THAT? Uh, nothing. On occasion I kept thinking I saw things towards the shoulder. There was hardly any traffic on the road, every now and again I might have passed a lonely truck going the other way. Sometimes the squawk would break on the CB, like someone transmitting from far away where you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but I thought for sure every time it happened I heard the word "moose."
I rolled into Gorham, Moose collision free. Gorham is a very small town in the middle of nowhere, and I found a spot at the truckstop. As middle of nowhere this place was, I actually had free wireless internet, so I was able to hop on line a bit before hitting the sack.. I checked the weather also and noticed they were calling for a chance of snow showers that night, and it was pretty darn cold up there!
Upon waking and taking a look around, it was apparent it had either snowed or rained lightly, just enough to make the ground wet, but not wet enough to destroy my efforts of detailing the truck the previous afternoon. I went inside for coffee and was talking to some guy who said it was rather slick that morning and someone he works with almost lost it and flew off a bridge. I was thinking I should thank my lucky stars the weather was clear the night before on my journey here. All I would have needed was some slick roads in the dark so then I could have possibly jack knifed on some ice, right into a moose!
The sun was just starting to break through the clouds, and as I made my stop in town and headed back the way I came I was struck with how much I missed coming up in the dark. It was absolutely beautiful up there, some really neat mountains and all. I actually pulled over on the shoulder on my way out of town to take some pictures but was dismayed to find I lost my darn card thingy for the digital camera. I was so distraught I thought of calling dispatch to see if they could send me up here again in quick order, but that was probably unlikely to happen. It’ll probably be months if not longer till I get back up there.
I made all my stops and called in empty at the last one. This is the moment I was waiting for...would I get another load from the drop yard, or head home to Leesport? I really kind of wanted to stay up there, maybe score a trip to Maine perhaps? But it wasn’t to be, and I was sent back to Leesport. Oh well, it sure was fun while it lasted! I had just enough hours to get home since I started my day late so it worked out to my benefit that I made Gorham the previous night. After a safe arrival home around midnight, I parked my truck at a lot near my home that is only a 15 minute walk away. It was a nice clear night for a walk, and a quiet time to reflect on the week so far. The stars were out, my small town was very still at this hour, and I was sure I wouldn’t have to worry about the Paparazzi or coming head to head with a moose!
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