So Long Kids, Daddy is off to play in the Adirondacks!
Coming home Friday before Easter, I checked my voice mail to find out where (and more importantly- when) next weeks adventure would begin. The message said I had a shuttle run to our drop yard in Massachusetts and the load would need to be there by 10am Monday morning. “That’s odd,” I think, usually I make that run on a Sunday and was now facing a few options.
Option 1 - Get up no later then 3:30am Monday morning and hope traffic does not hold me up. Cross my fingers and hope I make it by 10. This option isn’t good for a few reasons: I hate any kind of morning where my eyes have to try and open before 5; I’d much rather be forced to listen to Opera music for several hours with no restroom break. On top of that, I would arrive back in Leesport out of hours and quite possibly end up running local for several days. Local can be okay, but it can also equal more early mornings and nightmarish names like Philadelphia!
Option 2 - Leave late Sunday, and stay overnight in Mass and come back in the morning, giving me at least 5 or 6 more hours to get the heck out on the road again, away from the hazards of running local. I could also score Holiday pay for leaving on Easter.
Option 3 - Run the trip on Sunday and be back home the same day. Two benefits here, home again that night AND Holiday pay.
When listening to my voice mail, it completely slipped my mind about Sunday being Easter and I could not figure out why I couldn’t just pick option 3, so I called to see if that was acceptable for the folks at Dispatch. Turns out it was and they even asked me what time Sunday I would like to be there by. Three in the afternoon, I figured was plenty of time and after they obliged they slipped in a little disclaimer....
“We switched it so you can drop it on Sunday, but we have nothing for you on Monday, but we will send you out long for Tuesday.”
I hold up both hands and see I don’t posses enough fingers to count my blessings on. Not only were they giving me the flexibility to do the load when I want to, but the risk of local duty has disappeared into the wind. Sending me long means most of Monday will spent driving hundreds of miles away. That means I’ll most likely be somewhere I’ll really enjoy, possibly upstate New York, and even get to have the morning at home with the Family. Of course the Wife groans when she hears this; she has been managing the full compliment of five kids with the oldest two home for Easter break. Now she will have one more kid to feed and clean up after!
The alarm starts it song at 5:30 Sunday morning and I look forward to a 580 mile round trip, traffic free journey up to Massachusetts and back. Jumped in the car for the short ride to Leesport, picked up some coffee and a breakfast sandwich, and by 7am had traded in my four wheels for eighteen.
My early morning wishes for a traffic free ride were only slightly misguided- There were occasional slow downs off and on the entire trip which is unusual for a Sunday. Apparently, on Holidays, some people hit the road- quite possibly for the first time. I counted no less then four accidents, one severe with a car sideways on top of a guard rail. This is completely unacceptable for a beautiful, sunny day. Holiday or not, people are still in a hurry, thinking only of themselves and refuse to pay attention to what’s happening around them. Of special note: none involved trucks, and I had plenty of my friends out with me on that day.
Shortly after noon I arrived at our Top Secret location in Mass, dropped the loaded trailer for the local folk and found an empty to bring home. A call is placed so I can inform Dispatch what trailer will be following me back. Now is when I get my next load information. Now is when I hold my breath.
“We have you on four drops for Tuesday starting in Plattsburgh, New York, and finalizing in Massena, New York.”
I copy down the info, politely thank the Woman on the other end of the line way out in Wisconsin and push the button to end the call. Now is when I hear a song in my head and make some motions with my hands to music that only I can hear:
“Do a little dance, make a little noise, get down tonight!”
Nothing like a happy song to go along with a happy load!
I slip back into the comforts of my cab, enjoy some lunch while glancing over the days headlines, and head back to Leesport. Once there, I trade my eighteen wheels back in for four and arrive at home by seven in the evening.
My two oldest sons are at the age (16 & 17) that when I come and go often passes without much fanfare. My shorter ones (1.5, 3, 5) however, when awake, often treat me like a Rock Star when I enter the home after an all-day absence. What can be better then three little voices yelling “Daddy!” multiple times? Well two actually, my little guy is still at the “Da!” stage.
After dinner, I did something I almost never get to do- My 5 year old and I were snuggled up in the recliner, watching Nickelodeon and we both crashed out. I prefer channels like History, Nat Geo, genres like that. I’m also aware that in a blink of an eye, these little ones will become not so little and Nick won’t grace our fancy wide-screen TV anymore. Besides that, these little ones will be too big and too cool to snuggle up with Dad anymore, so this was an evening well spent!
Monday afternoon arrived and it was time to deal with one of the hardest parts of my job: Saying goodbye. My Wife wrongly assumes I am always happy to be gone with only peace and quiet in my future, and this does not surprise me. Between you and I, she’s wrong quite often, if not most of the time. Just don’t tell her I said that!
I’ve never figured out how to explain to my little ones that I’m not a standard issue Dad that is gone after breakfast and home again before dinner. Maybe I should sit them down and explain that their Daddy “does not do suits and ties, or even offices, no matter how good the view. Daddy is happiest when his office moves around, like today, when he is off to play in the Adirondacks.”
It’s a good thing too, that they don’t understand the world of trucking. If they did, they could easily demand that I find a job in a day cab, running local, so I could be home to see them every night. If they actually posed that question, I would get down on one knee and whisper them a very valid explanation in their little ears:
“Daddy doesn’t get along so well with the streets of Philadelphia, or those gritty over populated cities across the river in New Jersey. Besides, it reduces my risk of strangulation via Mommy’s bare hands if I disappear for a day or three! Don’t fret young ones, I’ll be back soon. Now beat it kids, Daddy is off to play in the Adirondacks!”
Most days it’s really not too bad leaving, except for my little guy. He hangs out on a chair by the window overlooking the driveway and watches me back out the driveway, all the while doing this little wave with a heartbreaking look on his little face. It’s enough to make me want to pretend I won the lottery, call off work for the next several years and go play, snuggle, and become more of a standard-issue Dad.
After I am on way, I manage to let the feelings of Parental neglect pass, and once again do the four-for-eighteen trade, and it’s off for Plattsburgh. I used to call somewhere far into the Wilds of West Virginia my favorite destination but unfortunately for the time being, that region is covered by another group of our drivers. No worry, there is always fun to be had heading up to Plattsburgh!
As soon as you get past Albany on 87 North, the remaining 120 miles or so, often can be nothing short of a rolling meditation. Just a straight up-and-down shot right through the Adirondack Park. Sometimes I’ll turn off the XM Radio and just listen to the growl of the tires or the whine of the turbo as it kicks in to climb up the mountains. Very often, I don’t have much company on the road- just the way I like it.
On my last trip to Plattsburgh, I even invented a new game, using the XM Radio. For one reason or another, I was flipping through channels and somehow ended up on the one simply called ‘Love.’ Love songs 24/7, what a fabulous invention! On that particular evening, I forced myself to listen while thinking of a lost love that ended in heartbreak. Final goal: shed a tear. Hold on, let me put on some music to help set the mood- How about some Chicago:
"If you leave me now, you'll take away the biggest part of me
Uh uh uh no baby please don't go
And if you leave me now, you'll take away the very heart of me
Uh uh uh no baby please don't go
Uh uh uh girl I just want you to stay"
Yeah, I know. I can’t say what is wrong with me either, other then the fact that I’m extremely talented at keeping myself amused (a good talent for anyone who frequently travels hundreds of miles in one shot). This game didn’t last more then two songs when I finally asked myself what I
was doing. I won’t be so crass to say I never had my heart broke, but I darn sure couldn’t think of any heart breaks and ended up losing a game I created! After that, I found the ‘Cosmo radio’ channel (The audio version of Cosmopolitan Magazine) where I felt like a fly on the wall listening to all the girl talk. The knowledge I gained will be used to further my superior “psychological” woman skills!
On this journey, I’m happy to report there were no love songs or any other off the wall games. I was provided with some entertainment though: A car pulling a small camper passed me not long after Albany was in the rearview mirrors. There were no lights on the camper at all, making it extremely hard to see once it passed by since the camper was taller then the car. I have reason to believe the driver knew about this malfunction, every so often he would activate the four ways, which for some reason worked on the camper. He didn’t leave them on continuously, just when he thought somebody approaching from behind him should know he’s there. I’m guessing leaving them on full time made that clack-clack-clack sound inside his vehicle and distracted him from his love songs. Tonight’s game: See how long till the law catches up with him.
He was moving much faster then my sixty five mile an hour pace and he disappeared from my view and eventually from my mind. It would be seventy five more miles till I saw him pulled over by a State Trooper. He made it pretty far, but obviously not far enough.
There are not a whole lot of highlights from the trip, I was familiar with two of the four stops and the other ones I had a general idea of where they were since the towns are a comfortable size that far north. I still call anyway just to make sure and see exactly where I need to be upon arrival. On my first call a recording picked up, and I couldn’t understand a word being said. Obviously someone was speaking French in a hurry and I instantly panic and turn to look at my GPS. Did I accidently cross in to Canada and not remember it? That couldn’t just happen without some low level trauma so I was certain it did not. After a glance at the screen I was relieved to see Canada was still ‘to the North’ as the GPS tracked West on Route 11 toward Malone. Apparently I was just close enough at the moment that my phone somehow thought it was a few miles to the North. I immediately tried again and I was happy to hear someone pick up and say the stores name, this time in English..
I emptied out up in Massena, at a mall, where there was plenty of space to park the truck. I decided to go in and do a lap inside in the name of health, but found a Wendy’s in the food court where I accidently ingested a Double cheese burger and fries. Oh well, at least I wouldn’t need to stop for nourishment on the ride home.
Dispatch told me to pick up a back haul of sofa innards (AKA Foam) down near Scranton, Pennsylvania, so I would need to find my way over to 81 South. I have turned and burned from up here before so I don’t really need the GPS to find my way home but still plug in my destination. On more then one occasion I have hit a back-up or road closure and navigated around it, often all by myself. Those little Garmins are good tools but nothing compares to the Laptop setup when you want more detail of what is around you.
Strangely enough, the computer had me going down 11 South for a few miles and then making a right turn into Canada. Once in Canada I would simply travel down 401 till I got to 81 and cross back into the States. The program suggested this route because it figured I would make better time on the highways versus Route 11 which cuts through some small towns along the way. Sounds easy enough, but obviously the Delorme software has no idea what might happen if you show up at the border in a commercial vehicle with nervous laughter and an explanation that you’re only here to go fast on their roads! I’m a fan of small towns anyway, all highways look the same after awhile. Click on the picture to see this routing suggestion:
Still, I am intrigued by this route solution, and I am no expert on border crossings- I have only done a few. A did a couple when I was with Schneider and only one at Ashley. All of them involved some questions and paperwork. I’m fairly certain however, that you can’t just pop in on their doorstep with plans just to only pass through. I thought it might make for an interesting story if I tried it- but interesting gone awry can easily lead to incarceration. No thanks, I’ll go the safe way. Here’s the route after I ‘told’ the program we would be staying on Route 11:
Sometimes I will call for my next load before I arrive at the foam plant so I can mentally plan things out. This time I held off till I arrived. I looked at the phone like a slot machine and hit the call button and waited anxiously to see if I would hit Another Jackpot of a load. Ding Ding Ding! Four stops up in Massachusetts delivering the day after tomorrow! Good news! I would have the night and most of the morning at home!
I Love weeks like this! Nice long runs, a bit of home time and still end up with plenty of change in my pocket come Friday. I place another call to let the Wife know I’ll be around in the morning, but I never just come out and say it. I simply call and ask “What’s for breakfast?” She instantly knows and begins to groan.....
Option 1 - Get up no later then 3:30am Monday morning and hope traffic does not hold me up. Cross my fingers and hope I make it by 10. This option isn’t good for a few reasons: I hate any kind of morning where my eyes have to try and open before 5; I’d much rather be forced to listen to Opera music for several hours with no restroom break. On top of that, I would arrive back in Leesport out of hours and quite possibly end up running local for several days. Local can be okay, but it can also equal more early mornings and nightmarish names like Philadelphia!
Option 2 - Leave late Sunday, and stay overnight in Mass and come back in the morning, giving me at least 5 or 6 more hours to get the heck out on the road again, away from the hazards of running local. I could also score Holiday pay for leaving on Easter.
Option 3 - Run the trip on Sunday and be back home the same day. Two benefits here, home again that night AND Holiday pay.
When listening to my voice mail, it completely slipped my mind about Sunday being Easter and I could not figure out why I couldn’t just pick option 3, so I called to see if that was acceptable for the folks at Dispatch. Turns out it was and they even asked me what time Sunday I would like to be there by. Three in the afternoon, I figured was plenty of time and after they obliged they slipped in a little disclaimer....
“We switched it so you can drop it on Sunday, but we have nothing for you on Monday, but we will send you out long for Tuesday.”
I hold up both hands and see I don’t posses enough fingers to count my blessings on. Not only were they giving me the flexibility to do the load when I want to, but the risk of local duty has disappeared into the wind. Sending me long means most of Monday will spent driving hundreds of miles away. That means I’ll most likely be somewhere I’ll really enjoy, possibly upstate New York, and even get to have the morning at home with the Family. Of course the Wife groans when she hears this; she has been managing the full compliment of five kids with the oldest two home for Easter break. Now she will have one more kid to feed and clean up after!
The alarm starts it song at 5:30 Sunday morning and I look forward to a 580 mile round trip, traffic free journey up to Massachusetts and back. Jumped in the car for the short ride to Leesport, picked up some coffee and a breakfast sandwich, and by 7am had traded in my four wheels for eighteen.
My early morning wishes for a traffic free ride were only slightly misguided- There were occasional slow downs off and on the entire trip which is unusual for a Sunday. Apparently, on Holidays, some people hit the road- quite possibly for the first time. I counted no less then four accidents, one severe with a car sideways on top of a guard rail. This is completely unacceptable for a beautiful, sunny day. Holiday or not, people are still in a hurry, thinking only of themselves and refuse to pay attention to what’s happening around them. Of special note: none involved trucks, and I had plenty of my friends out with me on that day.
Shortly after noon I arrived at our Top Secret location in Mass, dropped the loaded trailer for the local folk and found an empty to bring home. A call is placed so I can inform Dispatch what trailer will be following me back. Now is when I get my next load information. Now is when I hold my breath.
“We have you on four drops for Tuesday starting in Plattsburgh, New York, and finalizing in Massena, New York.”
I copy down the info, politely thank the Woman on the other end of the line way out in Wisconsin and push the button to end the call. Now is when I hear a song in my head and make some motions with my hands to music that only I can hear:
“Do a little dance, make a little noise, get down tonight!”
Nothing like a happy song to go along with a happy load!
I slip back into the comforts of my cab, enjoy some lunch while glancing over the days headlines, and head back to Leesport. Once there, I trade my eighteen wheels back in for four and arrive at home by seven in the evening.
My two oldest sons are at the age (16 & 17) that when I come and go often passes without much fanfare. My shorter ones (1.5, 3, 5) however, when awake, often treat me like a Rock Star when I enter the home after an all-day absence. What can be better then three little voices yelling “Daddy!” multiple times? Well two actually, my little guy is still at the “Da!” stage.
After dinner, I did something I almost never get to do- My 5 year old and I were snuggled up in the recliner, watching Nickelodeon and we both crashed out. I prefer channels like History, Nat Geo, genres like that. I’m also aware that in a blink of an eye, these little ones will become not so little and Nick won’t grace our fancy wide-screen TV anymore. Besides that, these little ones will be too big and too cool to snuggle up with Dad anymore, so this was an evening well spent!
Monday afternoon arrived and it was time to deal with one of the hardest parts of my job: Saying goodbye. My Wife wrongly assumes I am always happy to be gone with only peace and quiet in my future, and this does not surprise me. Between you and I, she’s wrong quite often, if not most of the time. Just don’t tell her I said that!
I’ve never figured out how to explain to my little ones that I’m not a standard issue Dad that is gone after breakfast and home again before dinner. Maybe I should sit them down and explain that their Daddy “does not do suits and ties, or even offices, no matter how good the view. Daddy is happiest when his office moves around, like today, when he is off to play in the Adirondacks.”
It’s a good thing too, that they don’t understand the world of trucking. If they did, they could easily demand that I find a job in a day cab, running local, so I could be home to see them every night. If they actually posed that question, I would get down on one knee and whisper them a very valid explanation in their little ears:
“Daddy doesn’t get along so well with the streets of Philadelphia, or those gritty over populated cities across the river in New Jersey. Besides, it reduces my risk of strangulation via Mommy’s bare hands if I disappear for a day or three! Don’t fret young ones, I’ll be back soon. Now beat it kids, Daddy is off to play in the Adirondacks!”
Most days it’s really not too bad leaving, except for my little guy. He hangs out on a chair by the window overlooking the driveway and watches me back out the driveway, all the while doing this little wave with a heartbreaking look on his little face. It’s enough to make me want to pretend I won the lottery, call off work for the next several years and go play, snuggle, and become more of a standard-issue Dad.
After I am on way, I manage to let the feelings of Parental neglect pass, and once again do the four-for-eighteen trade, and it’s off for Plattsburgh. I used to call somewhere far into the Wilds of West Virginia my favorite destination but unfortunately for the time being, that region is covered by another group of our drivers. No worry, there is always fun to be had heading up to Plattsburgh!
As soon as you get past Albany on 87 North, the remaining 120 miles or so, often can be nothing short of a rolling meditation. Just a straight up-and-down shot right through the Adirondack Park. Sometimes I’ll turn off the XM Radio and just listen to the growl of the tires or the whine of the turbo as it kicks in to climb up the mountains. Very often, I don’t have much company on the road- just the way I like it.
On my last trip to Plattsburgh, I even invented a new game, using the XM Radio. For one reason or another, I was flipping through channels and somehow ended up on the one simply called ‘Love.’ Love songs 24/7, what a fabulous invention! On that particular evening, I forced myself to listen while thinking of a lost love that ended in heartbreak. Final goal: shed a tear. Hold on, let me put on some music to help set the mood- How about some Chicago:
"If you leave me now, you'll take away the biggest part of me
Uh uh uh no baby please don't go
And if you leave me now, you'll take away the very heart of me
Uh uh uh no baby please don't go
Uh uh uh girl I just want you to stay"
Yeah, I know. I can’t say what is wrong with me either, other then the fact that I’m extremely talented at keeping myself amused (a good talent for anyone who frequently travels hundreds of miles in one shot). This game didn’t last more then two songs when I finally asked myself what I
was doing. I won’t be so crass to say I never had my heart broke, but I darn sure couldn’t think of any heart breaks and ended up losing a game I created! After that, I found the ‘Cosmo radio’ channel (The audio version of Cosmopolitan Magazine) where I felt like a fly on the wall listening to all the girl talk. The knowledge I gained will be used to further my superior “psychological” woman skills!
On this journey, I’m happy to report there were no love songs or any other off the wall games. I was provided with some entertainment though: A car pulling a small camper passed me not long after Albany was in the rearview mirrors. There were no lights on the camper at all, making it extremely hard to see once it passed by since the camper was taller then the car. I have reason to believe the driver knew about this malfunction, every so often he would activate the four ways, which for some reason worked on the camper. He didn’t leave them on continuously, just when he thought somebody approaching from behind him should know he’s there. I’m guessing leaving them on full time made that clack-clack-clack sound inside his vehicle and distracted him from his love songs. Tonight’s game: See how long till the law catches up with him.
He was moving much faster then my sixty five mile an hour pace and he disappeared from my view and eventually from my mind. It would be seventy five more miles till I saw him pulled over by a State Trooper. He made it pretty far, but obviously not far enough.
There are not a whole lot of highlights from the trip, I was familiar with two of the four stops and the other ones I had a general idea of where they were since the towns are a comfortable size that far north. I still call anyway just to make sure and see exactly where I need to be upon arrival. On my first call a recording picked up, and I couldn’t understand a word being said. Obviously someone was speaking French in a hurry and I instantly panic and turn to look at my GPS. Did I accidently cross in to Canada and not remember it? That couldn’t just happen without some low level trauma so I was certain it did not. After a glance at the screen I was relieved to see Canada was still ‘to the North’ as the GPS tracked West on Route 11 toward Malone. Apparently I was just close enough at the moment that my phone somehow thought it was a few miles to the North. I immediately tried again and I was happy to hear someone pick up and say the stores name, this time in English..
I emptied out up in Massena, at a mall, where there was plenty of space to park the truck. I decided to go in and do a lap inside in the name of health, but found a Wendy’s in the food court where I accidently ingested a Double cheese burger and fries. Oh well, at least I wouldn’t need to stop for nourishment on the ride home.
Dispatch told me to pick up a back haul of sofa innards (AKA Foam) down near Scranton, Pennsylvania, so I would need to find my way over to 81 South. I have turned and burned from up here before so I don’t really need the GPS to find my way home but still plug in my destination. On more then one occasion I have hit a back-up or road closure and navigated around it, often all by myself. Those little Garmins are good tools but nothing compares to the Laptop setup when you want more detail of what is around you.
Strangely enough, the computer had me going down 11 South for a few miles and then making a right turn into Canada. Once in Canada I would simply travel down 401 till I got to 81 and cross back into the States. The program suggested this route because it figured I would make better time on the highways versus Route 11 which cuts through some small towns along the way. Sounds easy enough, but obviously the Delorme software has no idea what might happen if you show up at the border in a commercial vehicle with nervous laughter and an explanation that you’re only here to go fast on their roads! I’m a fan of small towns anyway, all highways look the same after awhile. Click on the picture to see this routing suggestion:
Still, I am intrigued by this route solution, and I am no expert on border crossings- I have only done a few. A did a couple when I was with Schneider and only one at Ashley. All of them involved some questions and paperwork. I’m fairly certain however, that you can’t just pop in on their doorstep with plans just to only pass through. I thought it might make for an interesting story if I tried it- but interesting gone awry can easily lead to incarceration. No thanks, I’ll go the safe way. Here’s the route after I ‘told’ the program we would be staying on Route 11:
Sometimes I will call for my next load before I arrive at the foam plant so I can mentally plan things out. This time I held off till I arrived. I looked at the phone like a slot machine and hit the call button and waited anxiously to see if I would hit Another Jackpot of a load. Ding Ding Ding! Four stops up in Massachusetts delivering the day after tomorrow! Good news! I would have the night and most of the morning at home!
I Love weeks like this! Nice long runs, a bit of home time and still end up with plenty of change in my pocket come Friday. I place another call to let the Wife know I’ll be around in the morning, but I never just come out and say it. I simply call and ask “What’s for breakfast?” She instantly knows and begins to groan.....
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