For the Love of Late Night Parking
A few weeks back was a record setting week. Not in miles, but in how many stops I completed for the week, and even for one day. The tally for the week was 37.
My daily record was 14. I thought that would be darn near impossible when I learned they were all scheduled for one day, especially with a few miles between the first stop in Auburn, and ending in Rochester, New York. Even more impressive, the weekly total was all done between Monday and Thursday! Certainly I am deserving of some kind of award, more then likely I’ll end up settling for a hefty paycheck that my darn Wife won’t let me spend a dime of.
It felt good to pull that week off and it was even better that my last stop Thursday was way up in Massena, New York. When empty I faced a seven hour (give or take a few) drive back home. My best calculations put us back in Leesport at 11am Friday morning which most likely meant when I arrived Friday morning my weekend would begin. No way to tell til I called in the way back after the planner had time to see what she needed done. I hit the road with the highest of hopes there wasn’t anything else for me to do. As I pulled away from Massena I reflected on the week and all that was accomplished and heard Carly Simon sing to me how “Nobody does it better.” I found it fitting for the moment- perhaps it’s my new “at work” theme song.
I’ll be quick to admit, I heard Ms. Simon on XM radio channel 23. For those without knowledge of XM’s programming, that’s called XM Love, a channel dedicated to nothing but love songs, 24/7. I accidently suffered a week or three of listening to that darn channel way more then a normal person should. I couldn’t help it, give me a chance to explain for before you go rushing to judgement of how sappy a person I must be.
Satellite radio can be a lot like cable TV. Twenty five thousand channels and nothing on. I have my favorite channels programmed in and often found myself endlessly flipping through them, often times trying to understand how what they are playing at that moment can possibly even pass for music. One mile, I got tired of this song and dance (pun intended) and strayed beyond my favorite channels. And somehow I landed on the love channel. Whatever was playing sounded good, and then the song after that and so on. Every once in awhile I’d hear some kind of nonsense where I would snap out of it and wonder what the heck I’m listening to. Sooner or later I’d migrate back to the darn love channel.
I’m getting better though- at this period in time I’m happy to report I’m spending much more time on the 70's channel. I had no choice, things were getting bad. I was talking to my friend one night on the way up to New York. I had the radio turned down but as we chatted I looked at the XM display and saw this: Air supply/All Out of Love and immediately blurted out “I gotta go, I’ll call you later!” All Out of Love is (was) my favorite song to sing along with and I couldn’t pass up the chance to do it now! After my sing along I called my friend back and he asked why I had to go so abruptly- so I told him the truth. He replied “what?” Apparently he thought something terrible had happened or I was being pulled over, and was slightly disturbed to hear I only needed to sing a long with Air Supply! Things were so bad I was dissing my friends to sing love songs by myself! Even worse into my downward spiral, I decided the opening to MY weekly reality trucking show would showcase me and my truck in a soft light. I’d be wiping her down with a rag and occasionally lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek, or, what normal people might call the side of the hood. Of course the scene wouldn’t be complete without the band Exile churning out the tune “I Want to Kiss You All Over” (Til The Night Closes In.) Sure do love that truck!
Enough with the love, let’s get back to the journey of getting back to Leesport. About three hours into the drive, I called in to dispatch and was overjoyed to learn I was done for the week. After a few more quick calculations, I figured I could make the Pilot truck stop in Binghamton, New York just before, or right when I would need to stop for the night. This was good because it was still real hot and I’d been sweating all day, but it was bad for more then one reason. To begin, it would be after nine upon arrival and finding a space that late could be wishful thinking. The place isn’t that big and can reach capacity quite early.
Second, I had a 53 foot trailer versus the normal 48 footer I pull most of the time. You wouldn’t think five feet makes much of a difference, but it does. I pull off a lot of hairy maneuvers on a daily basis with a 48' that I wouldn’t think of attempting in a 53'. The best way to describe this to a non truck driver goes like this: When pulling a 48' I can whip around, almost like I’m in a sports car, but a 53', whoa, you gotta be careful and actually look in your mirrors when making turns so you don’t accidently rip off that Soccer Mom’s front end when she stopped past the white line at a red light in her Soccer Mom minivan. Hairy maneuvering can often be a truck stop tradition, and this night would soon turn out to be no exception.
Before I am verbally attacked by other truck drivers weilding warnings to stop whining about dragging a 53': I’m aware almost all trucks pull 53's these days! There’s not too much to whine about where I work. Like any other driver, if you dig around enough, there’s always something to whine about and this is my chance. So no, I won’t be needing any cheese with my whine, and go put your violin back in it’s case!
I chugged South on 81 hoping for the best and soon enough the exit arrived. There is a slight hill to descend that affords a good view of the place and the worry set in. At best, I can only say it looked like I may be approaching pure chaos. When I was I brand new driver with Schneider I avoided truck stops and the associated chaos when ever I could. I wasn’t necessarily scared, I just didn’t want the pressure of holding up traffic while I tried to gingerly back up, in the dark, in a space between two trucks that didn’t ever look big enough. Getting mocked, yelled at, or just plain disparaged over the CB didn’t remove any of my anxieties. Come to think of it, I wasn’t scared, I was downright terrified! But on this night I have a whooping five years of confidence under my belt, and I’m all for the chaos! Bring it on!
Things fell apart as soon as I turned right and into the parking lot. This is hard to describe so I’ll add a picture (figure 1) to help you better follow along.
I made a right figuring I’d have the option of circling around the parking area, like a vulture, til I found a spot I was comfortable with. Unfortunately, two trucks closed off my circling option by parking side by side where they shouldn’t have been. There actions in turn created what can only be compared to a beetle bag trap, once you went down that slippery slope , it’s over Johnny. Luckily I came in the way I did and saw what those ignorant bastards did, or I might have fallen into the trap myself!
I had no choice but to continue forward and I was happy to see at least two empty spots on my right. All I had to do was figure out how to get turned around so I could back into one of them the easy way! I began to swing left to clear the row on the right and this is where all heck breaks loose.
A truck was coming from the fuel islands on the right, and a flatbed truck pulling in behind me was making a gallivant attempt at blindsiding his truck into one of the empty spots. Forget turning around, he must have thought, these spaces go quick, get em’ while they’re hot. Good for him, bad for me, and just as bad for the guy who was approaching from my right. I had no choice to stop, and being the gentleman I am, I figured I’d hang about til mister flatbed finished his thing, then back up, so the guy coming from the right could get around me. It wasn’t long till the guy trying to leave, who I was now blocking, reached out and touched me, via the CB.
“Hey Ashley, whatcha doing?”
“I’m waiting for the truck behind me to finish backing.”
Anyone with even one good eye could have seen this, but in another few seconds he repeated his question. I briefly gave thought to jumping out and going to talk with him since he didn’t seem to understand plain English, and maybe if I made him a drawing, he might better understand. Instead, I repeated my answer.
After what seemed like a few hours and a few get out and looks, the flatbed finished his task, and now there was only one parking spot left. I backed up so mister impatience could get on with his (what turned out to be) miserable life. Then more chaos erupted as he passed by on my left.
Before we get to that chaos, let me explain a few things. First of all, I don’t think we truckers need to greet each other with great big bear hugs everywhere we go. A little decency and common courtesy towards each other however, would go a long way in making our working lives more enjoyable. It doesn’t matter what company I drive for, and what company you drive for, we’re drivers and we share that in common and that’s enough for me. I treat every driver I interact with, on the road, in a truck stop and wherever else, with nothing but respect. Most other drivers do too, and unfortunately others don’t. Mister Impatience clearly saw why I couldn’t move but didn’t care only because I was number one in his way. It became obvious he had no respect for me!
I backed up and let him come by, and as I did I gave a small wave through my window, which was open as I need all the oxygen I could get by now. It was a wave to say thanks for understanding, but I quickly became aware this guy might not have understood a lot of things as he goes through his life wallowing about in pure miserableness.
Instead of waving back or giving a friendly head nod, he gives me that condescending, snarky squinty eye gaze that screams out “what’s your problem, man.” I didn’t appreciate this and quickly thought “wrong answer.”
My feet were off the floorboards and on the ground before the air brakes even stopped their hissing routine. My arms were outstretched as I ran towards his drivers door, the whole time yelling repeatedly “You want a piece of this?”
Of course I didn’t really do that thanks to referencing that chapter of the Mother’s handbook, still locked in my mind, that talks about not stooping to someone else’s level. Instead I turned my face into a mirror of his, and stared right back at him, squinty eyes and all! I won, he looked away first.
My first tragedy of the this adventure over with, I pulled forward and began trying to figure out what to do next. I came around the corner and glanced down what had become the beetle trap for truckers thanks to those other inconsiderate, poorly parked residents who were probably snoring comfortably in their sleepers but who fully deserved to have firecrackers set off under their floorboards. There were two trucks down there, at horrible angles, with four ways a blazing. I imagined there was some swearing and sweating going on as they tried to maneuver out of that terrible trap, most likely tired as me and referencing their Mothers handbook in their mind, wondering why they never took her advice to go get a nice desk job somewhere.
I kept going forward and decided I had no choice but to go out thru the in door- meaning I’d simply pull the wrong way thru the fuel island and out to the safety of the road where I could regroup. My old self was now standing on my shoulder, begging me to leave this mess and instead find the comfort of the rest area down the road. I flicked him off with thumb and forefinger and went back for more. This truck was getting parked. I’m tired, and am now sweating more then I did all day.
What’s weird is I pulled out and came back in the same way, knowing full well what just happened but hoping not to repeat history in such a short time. The beauty of it is I was able to mentally regroup and come up with a plan in no time- I stuck my nose into the beetle trap for truckers just a bit, backed up, and came back to that last, still open spot. Backed her in there like it was the piece of cake that my confidence assured me it was. I looked over at the guy parked next to me on my left, with a look of relief on my face. He was in there with his interior light on, doing some paperwork and surely must have seen me pass by multiple times in my misadventures of the evening. He gave me the thumbs up, and I was happy to see such a kind gesture from a fellow trucker for once. I jumped out of my truck and walked around the front of his, my arms outstretched for a big bear hug. He got a puzzled look on his face and quickly closed the curtains and the whole interior went dark. Never did see that guy again, he was gone when I awoke the next morning.
I went back inside my truck and had a talk with my old self, the one who didn’t dare even try to stop late at night in a truck stop the size of a postage stamp. “See that Jason? It can be done, all it takes is a little patience and it’s really no big deal!” I grabbed my backpack and went inside for the shower I’d been waiting for.
When I was passing the fuel island by the door, guess whose truck I saw sitting there? Yes, it was Mister Impatience’s, all alone in the quiet night. I couldn’t believe my good fortune and scanned the area for any sign of a potential witness. No one around! I whipped out my trusty pocket knife and punctured all six of his drive tires! That will teach him for being such an ignorant Ass!
No, no, no, didn’t really do that either. I’m not really the revengeful type, and if I was, it would only be taking comfort knowing that just letting him be his own miserable self, for the rest of his life, would be plenty enough for me. On top of that, he’ll serve as my teacher. No many how many miles I get under my belt or how good I think I am, I’ll understand the importance of displaying common courtesy to my fellow truckers, and to help them out when I can. I’ll also try and restrain myself from giving out bear hugs!
Friday morning dawned beautiful and I went inside for the best coffee in the world outside of Dunkin’ Donuts and also grabbed a sandwich from Wendy’s. Things were great, all I had to do was drive back home and the weekend could start. I finished up my breakfast at the table in my truck, then arose and walked forward to prepare for departure. I was in such a good mood that as I went from back to front, I was singing, really, really loud.
“I want to hold you til I die, til we both break down and cry, I want to hold you til.........” my voice trailed off. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw the guy in the truck next to me looking right at me. I slowly looked over at him, just in time to see his head snap back forward real quick. Oops! I sure hope he knew I was singing out of my horrible addiction to good love songs and not serenading him!
This whole adventure has given me new inspiration for my second reality trucking TV show. Forget about Ice Road Truckers and think Late Night Parker's! It will feature brand new truck drivers right out of school who will be sent to the smallest of truck stops in the prime of the evening parking rush! Prepare to watch with amazement as they struggle to fight for a space, a concept made better by the bed of love songs playing in the background!
My daily record was 14. I thought that would be darn near impossible when I learned they were all scheduled for one day, especially with a few miles between the first stop in Auburn, and ending in Rochester, New York. Even more impressive, the weekly total was all done between Monday and Thursday! Certainly I am deserving of some kind of award, more then likely I’ll end up settling for a hefty paycheck that my darn Wife won’t let me spend a dime of.
It felt good to pull that week off and it was even better that my last stop Thursday was way up in Massena, New York. When empty I faced a seven hour (give or take a few) drive back home. My best calculations put us back in Leesport at 11am Friday morning which most likely meant when I arrived Friday morning my weekend would begin. No way to tell til I called in the way back after the planner had time to see what she needed done. I hit the road with the highest of hopes there wasn’t anything else for me to do. As I pulled away from Massena I reflected on the week and all that was accomplished and heard Carly Simon sing to me how “Nobody does it better.” I found it fitting for the moment- perhaps it’s my new “at work” theme song.
I’ll be quick to admit, I heard Ms. Simon on XM radio channel 23. For those without knowledge of XM’s programming, that’s called XM Love, a channel dedicated to nothing but love songs, 24/7. I accidently suffered a week or three of listening to that darn channel way more then a normal person should. I couldn’t help it, give me a chance to explain for before you go rushing to judgement of how sappy a person I must be.
Satellite radio can be a lot like cable TV. Twenty five thousand channels and nothing on. I have my favorite channels programmed in and often found myself endlessly flipping through them, often times trying to understand how what they are playing at that moment can possibly even pass for music. One mile, I got tired of this song and dance (pun intended) and strayed beyond my favorite channels. And somehow I landed on the love channel. Whatever was playing sounded good, and then the song after that and so on. Every once in awhile I’d hear some kind of nonsense where I would snap out of it and wonder what the heck I’m listening to. Sooner or later I’d migrate back to the darn love channel.
I’m getting better though- at this period in time I’m happy to report I’m spending much more time on the 70's channel. I had no choice, things were getting bad. I was talking to my friend one night on the way up to New York. I had the radio turned down but as we chatted I looked at the XM display and saw this: Air supply/All Out of Love and immediately blurted out “I gotta go, I’ll call you later!” All Out of Love is (was) my favorite song to sing along with and I couldn’t pass up the chance to do it now! After my sing along I called my friend back and he asked why I had to go so abruptly- so I told him the truth. He replied “what?” Apparently he thought something terrible had happened or I was being pulled over, and was slightly disturbed to hear I only needed to sing a long with Air Supply! Things were so bad I was dissing my friends to sing love songs by myself! Even worse into my downward spiral, I decided the opening to MY weekly reality trucking show would showcase me and my truck in a soft light. I’d be wiping her down with a rag and occasionally lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek, or, what normal people might call the side of the hood. Of course the scene wouldn’t be complete without the band Exile churning out the tune “I Want to Kiss You All Over” (Til The Night Closes In.) Sure do love that truck!
Enough with the love, let’s get back to the journey of getting back to Leesport. About three hours into the drive, I called in to dispatch and was overjoyed to learn I was done for the week. After a few more quick calculations, I figured I could make the Pilot truck stop in Binghamton, New York just before, or right when I would need to stop for the night. This was good because it was still real hot and I’d been sweating all day, but it was bad for more then one reason. To begin, it would be after nine upon arrival and finding a space that late could be wishful thinking. The place isn’t that big and can reach capacity quite early.
Second, I had a 53 foot trailer versus the normal 48 footer I pull most of the time. You wouldn’t think five feet makes much of a difference, but it does. I pull off a lot of hairy maneuvers on a daily basis with a 48' that I wouldn’t think of attempting in a 53'. The best way to describe this to a non truck driver goes like this: When pulling a 48' I can whip around, almost like I’m in a sports car, but a 53', whoa, you gotta be careful and actually look in your mirrors when making turns so you don’t accidently rip off that Soccer Mom’s front end when she stopped past the white line at a red light in her Soccer Mom minivan. Hairy maneuvering can often be a truck stop tradition, and this night would soon turn out to be no exception.
Before I am verbally attacked by other truck drivers weilding warnings to stop whining about dragging a 53': I’m aware almost all trucks pull 53's these days! There’s not too much to whine about where I work. Like any other driver, if you dig around enough, there’s always something to whine about and this is my chance. So no, I won’t be needing any cheese with my whine, and go put your violin back in it’s case!
I chugged South on 81 hoping for the best and soon enough the exit arrived. There is a slight hill to descend that affords a good view of the place and the worry set in. At best, I can only say it looked like I may be approaching pure chaos. When I was I brand new driver with Schneider I avoided truck stops and the associated chaos when ever I could. I wasn’t necessarily scared, I just didn’t want the pressure of holding up traffic while I tried to gingerly back up, in the dark, in a space between two trucks that didn’t ever look big enough. Getting mocked, yelled at, or just plain disparaged over the CB didn’t remove any of my anxieties. Come to think of it, I wasn’t scared, I was downright terrified! But on this night I have a whooping five years of confidence under my belt, and I’m all for the chaos! Bring it on!
Things fell apart as soon as I turned right and into the parking lot. This is hard to describe so I’ll add a picture (figure 1) to help you better follow along.
I made a right figuring I’d have the option of circling around the parking area, like a vulture, til I found a spot I was comfortable with. Unfortunately, two trucks closed off my circling option by parking side by side where they shouldn’t have been. There actions in turn created what can only be compared to a beetle bag trap, once you went down that slippery slope , it’s over Johnny. Luckily I came in the way I did and saw what those ignorant bastards did, or I might have fallen into the trap myself!
I had no choice but to continue forward and I was happy to see at least two empty spots on my right. All I had to do was figure out how to get turned around so I could back into one of them the easy way! I began to swing left to clear the row on the right and this is where all heck breaks loose.
A truck was coming from the fuel islands on the right, and a flatbed truck pulling in behind me was making a gallivant attempt at blindsiding his truck into one of the empty spots. Forget turning around, he must have thought, these spaces go quick, get em’ while they’re hot. Good for him, bad for me, and just as bad for the guy who was approaching from my right. I had no choice to stop, and being the gentleman I am, I figured I’d hang about til mister flatbed finished his thing, then back up, so the guy coming from the right could get around me. It wasn’t long till the guy trying to leave, who I was now blocking, reached out and touched me, via the CB.
“Hey Ashley, whatcha doing?”
“I’m waiting for the truck behind me to finish backing.”
Anyone with even one good eye could have seen this, but in another few seconds he repeated his question. I briefly gave thought to jumping out and going to talk with him since he didn’t seem to understand plain English, and maybe if I made him a drawing, he might better understand. Instead, I repeated my answer.
After what seemed like a few hours and a few get out and looks, the flatbed finished his task, and now there was only one parking spot left. I backed up so mister impatience could get on with his (what turned out to be) miserable life. Then more chaos erupted as he passed by on my left.
Before we get to that chaos, let me explain a few things. First of all, I don’t think we truckers need to greet each other with great big bear hugs everywhere we go. A little decency and common courtesy towards each other however, would go a long way in making our working lives more enjoyable. It doesn’t matter what company I drive for, and what company you drive for, we’re drivers and we share that in common and that’s enough for me. I treat every driver I interact with, on the road, in a truck stop and wherever else, with nothing but respect. Most other drivers do too, and unfortunately others don’t. Mister Impatience clearly saw why I couldn’t move but didn’t care only because I was number one in his way. It became obvious he had no respect for me!
I backed up and let him come by, and as I did I gave a small wave through my window, which was open as I need all the oxygen I could get by now. It was a wave to say thanks for understanding, but I quickly became aware this guy might not have understood a lot of things as he goes through his life wallowing about in pure miserableness.
Instead of waving back or giving a friendly head nod, he gives me that condescending, snarky squinty eye gaze that screams out “what’s your problem, man.” I didn’t appreciate this and quickly thought “wrong answer.”
My feet were off the floorboards and on the ground before the air brakes even stopped their hissing routine. My arms were outstretched as I ran towards his drivers door, the whole time yelling repeatedly “You want a piece of this?”
Of course I didn’t really do that thanks to referencing that chapter of the Mother’s handbook, still locked in my mind, that talks about not stooping to someone else’s level. Instead I turned my face into a mirror of his, and stared right back at him, squinty eyes and all! I won, he looked away first.
My first tragedy of the this adventure over with, I pulled forward and began trying to figure out what to do next. I came around the corner and glanced down what had become the beetle trap for truckers thanks to those other inconsiderate, poorly parked residents who were probably snoring comfortably in their sleepers but who fully deserved to have firecrackers set off under their floorboards. There were two trucks down there, at horrible angles, with four ways a blazing. I imagined there was some swearing and sweating going on as they tried to maneuver out of that terrible trap, most likely tired as me and referencing their Mothers handbook in their mind, wondering why they never took her advice to go get a nice desk job somewhere.
I kept going forward and decided I had no choice but to go out thru the in door- meaning I’d simply pull the wrong way thru the fuel island and out to the safety of the road where I could regroup. My old self was now standing on my shoulder, begging me to leave this mess and instead find the comfort of the rest area down the road. I flicked him off with thumb and forefinger and went back for more. This truck was getting parked. I’m tired, and am now sweating more then I did all day.
What’s weird is I pulled out and came back in the same way, knowing full well what just happened but hoping not to repeat history in such a short time. The beauty of it is I was able to mentally regroup and come up with a plan in no time- I stuck my nose into the beetle trap for truckers just a bit, backed up, and came back to that last, still open spot. Backed her in there like it was the piece of cake that my confidence assured me it was. I looked over at the guy parked next to me on my left, with a look of relief on my face. He was in there with his interior light on, doing some paperwork and surely must have seen me pass by multiple times in my misadventures of the evening. He gave me the thumbs up, and I was happy to see such a kind gesture from a fellow trucker for once. I jumped out of my truck and walked around the front of his, my arms outstretched for a big bear hug. He got a puzzled look on his face and quickly closed the curtains and the whole interior went dark. Never did see that guy again, he was gone when I awoke the next morning.
I went back inside my truck and had a talk with my old self, the one who didn’t dare even try to stop late at night in a truck stop the size of a postage stamp. “See that Jason? It can be done, all it takes is a little patience and it’s really no big deal!” I grabbed my backpack and went inside for the shower I’d been waiting for.
When I was passing the fuel island by the door, guess whose truck I saw sitting there? Yes, it was Mister Impatience’s, all alone in the quiet night. I couldn’t believe my good fortune and scanned the area for any sign of a potential witness. No one around! I whipped out my trusty pocket knife and punctured all six of his drive tires! That will teach him for being such an ignorant Ass!
No, no, no, didn’t really do that either. I’m not really the revengeful type, and if I was, it would only be taking comfort knowing that just letting him be his own miserable self, for the rest of his life, would be plenty enough for me. On top of that, he’ll serve as my teacher. No many how many miles I get under my belt or how good I think I am, I’ll understand the importance of displaying common courtesy to my fellow truckers, and to help them out when I can. I’ll also try and restrain myself from giving out bear hugs!
Friday morning dawned beautiful and I went inside for the best coffee in the world outside of Dunkin’ Donuts and also grabbed a sandwich from Wendy’s. Things were great, all I had to do was drive back home and the weekend could start. I finished up my breakfast at the table in my truck, then arose and walked forward to prepare for departure. I was in such a good mood that as I went from back to front, I was singing, really, really loud.
“I want to hold you til I die, til we both break down and cry, I want to hold you til.........” my voice trailed off. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw the guy in the truck next to me looking right at me. I slowly looked over at him, just in time to see his head snap back forward real quick. Oops! I sure hope he knew I was singing out of my horrible addiction to good love songs and not serenading him!
This whole adventure has given me new inspiration for my second reality trucking TV show. Forget about Ice Road Truckers and think Late Night Parker's! It will feature brand new truck drivers right out of school who will be sent to the smallest of truck stops in the prime of the evening parking rush! Prepare to watch with amazement as they struggle to fight for a space, a concept made better by the bed of love songs playing in the background!
Comments
I was driving along and flipping through my preset channels on my XM radio yesterday and came across preset A9, which is the love channel.
Back Street Boys were on, singing "I want it that way" and I laughed literally out loud when I though about you listening to love songs.
Anyway, glad you had a laugh at my expense!