The Universe threw a snowball at me!
Winter is starting to wear on me. The last few weeks have been so trying, I haven’t even had the chance to write. Worse yet, my winter woes have robbed me of my creative abilities (if I ever had them to begin with). If it’s not one thing, it’s another: one day it’s a truck, the next my health and the next snow (and lots of it.) Then rinse and repeat, mix and match, hop on the old merry-go-round and do it all again. I may have let it get the best of me for a few weeks, but through a set of unfortunate (and fortunate) circumstances I think the worst is behind me. At least I hope. No, I’m sure.
Three weeks ago, I finished up training my latest student and was looking forward to getting back into my own routine. No more collaborating departure times, meal times, stuff like that. The new guy, Bill, was a pleasure to work with, but I really looked forward to having my brand new truck all to myself. Bill was a big fan of country music (which could have brought on my physical ailments) so I eagerly anticipated driving my new truck along with my favorite XM channel I missed so much: Love. I’m half convinced missing my daily dose of love songs directly contributed to my physical and mental deterioration!
Unfortunately, my brand new 2010 Volvo lasted all of five thousand miles before the turbo was deemed defective, and I haven’t driven her in the weeks since. Last I heard, there was a six-month backlog on replacement turbo units so I might not see her again for a while. All I have is a few memories of our brief time together and a picture in my wallet that I occasionally pull out and stare at while letting the tears flow.
When I received my 2010, my 2008 was still in the shop as it had been for several weeks. After the turbo took away my baby, I was given another 2008 spare truck to use til my new truck returns. At one point, I had 3 trucks with my stuff inside of them, my 08’ in the shop, the sickly new 10’ in the yard and now the 08 spare I was given!
As nice as a Volvo truck is to drive when it’s healthy, my frustration level with the entire brand is reaching new heights. Recently, while driving down the road I considered what I might do if Volvo was the only automobile manufacturer left in business on the Planet. I came to the conclusion I would save my money instead of buying one of their cars. I’d use my savings to buy a farm, where I would grow my own food and thereby never have the need to be driving anywhere and if I did, I would just hop on one of my horses in the stable. If I ever give up driving trucks around, I’m going in search of an Amish family to adopt me!
On my first full week going solo again, I was dispatched to begin the week in Pittsburgh, an act I considered to be evil by my dispatch office, but nonetheless I was looking forward to it because I would be alone again. Unfortunately, this was the Monday after the first Grand Slam of a winter storm, one that dumped at least a foot or more on the city I am already not real fond of! To make matters worse, that Saturday evening I became violently ill and spent part of the night praying to the porcelain god. As bad as I felt, I was almost relieved that if my illness continued I may not make Pittsburgh at all. I’m happy to report I was feeling well enough on Sunday morning to make a go of it, tough guy (that I like to think) I am.
Watching the weather and news reports, a small inner voice inside of me kept suggesting it might be best to not leave on the trip. Part of the problem was that the city is hard enough to navigate without fifty foot snow banks everywhere and the other part was the concern some customers might not have their lots cleaned up and ready for business. To help alleviate my anxiety, I called my second to last stop (out of 7 stops) on Sunday and asked how things look. “Oh it’s bad right now, we can’t even park our cars, but we’ll have it all cleaned up by the time you get here!” This brought me comfort since they were getting the most pieces on the smallest piece of real estate. I packed my five thousand bags into my temporary truck and off I went into the night. By the way, I missed the Superbowl on the drive out, who won?
Most roads were clear while others were less than desirable with several inches of solid packed ice and snow, which made for a slow go. Certain turns required an even wider swing and a louder prayer to make. I made it all the way to my third from last stop where I called my second to last stop to let them know I was on the way. Remember, this was the place I called on Sunday before I left. This is what they told me: “We’re not cleaned out yet and not accepting deliveries.” I asked when they would be accepting deliveries. “Don’t know.” Lovely. My dispatchers told me to “hang tight” while they figured out what would happen next. If you have ever been in downtown Pittsburgh in an eighteen-wheeler, it is slightly impossible to hang tight. Three hours later, it was decided I would be delivering the stop in question to a different warehouse the next morning.
To make matters worse, I was feeling less than lovely ALL day long. Mostly stomach related issues and fatigue, one I tried to blame on my Wife’s cooking, the other on my weather related woes. Either way, I was almost happy to learn I would have to spend the night and deliver the next stop in the morning. Since it was only 5 pm, I would have all kinds of time to rest up. My only remaining concern was making it back out of town before the NEXT winter wallop would arrive, as it was predicted to begin the next day, sometime around late morning.
I was actually moving while “hanging tight” and I ended up spending the night at a service plaza along the turnpike. My fuel was running a little on the low side and with a winter storm approaching, I came up with what I thought was a grand plan to resolve the situation. I’d simply head out to the Pilot off interstate 70 then head North on 79 to get to my first stop. It was a few miles longer so I planned on leaving early to allow for the fuel stop.
Tuesday morning I woke up and still felt woozy. I just wanted to get these stops done as quickly as possible then get home before the roads got too bad. I made trails to the Pilot and easily found an open set of fuel pumps. Got my fuel. Got my favorite Pilot Coffee. Ready, set and UH-OH! The truck leaving in front of me got stuck trying to exit onto the road. There is no other exit and I’m trapped. I look at the situation and the clock and begin to wonder why the universe hates me so much.
In retrospect, it turned out to be one of the best parts of the trip and a reason I am happy I stopped for fuel where (and when) I did.
When the guy got stuck in front of me, I thought, “uh-oh, here we go.” I had the CB turned on and immediately I braced for the barrage of other truckers calling the guy an idiot and every other inappropriate name under the sun. I felt bad for him. To my utter surprise, it never materialized, but something else did. It started with people politely suggesting to him, via the CB, of things to try. Nothing was working; he was really stuck. I wished I had a shovel. All of a sudden, a driver that was parked in the lot heard what was happening and got on the radio and told him to hold on, he’d be out in a minute to pull him out. What?
I watched as a Flatbed truck exited the property from the one-way entrance to the place, entirely orchestrated by other truckers on the CB. Nobody entered til the flatbed got out. I listened as someone else came on the radio and said the same thing happened to him last night and the same guy came and pulled him out. One guy thanked the flatbed driver and said “we need more guys like you out here” and I silently agreed. I watched in amazement as he maneuvered into a parking lot across the street, backed up, hooked up some chains and eventually pulled the guy out. Here’s an actual video for your viewing pleasure but be aware the CB was on and I haven’t figured out a beep button to cover up any four letter words, so keep the small people with virgin ears away or simply turn down the volume!
I found the entire chain of events amazing. Here’s a driver parked, perhaps on a ten-hour break, sitting comfortably in his truck. He actually put himself aside and decided to take action where a lot of people, myself often included, might have just chosen to take the role of an active observer. Not only did he step in and help this guy, by default he helped a lot more people that were stuck behind him, myself included. From what I have heard from old timers, stuff like this happened routinely back in the day. I wonder why it ever stopped.
I made a mad dash out of the ice-covered truck stop and delivered the next stop at the warehouse. I called my LAST stop in Lawrenceville, PA and inquired about the best way to get there. I was told not to even attempt to come. Here we go again. Twenty minutes later I was given instructions to bring the final stop home to the yard. I was happy it was over with and just wanted to get home since I was really feeling nauseous at this point. In fact I informed my dispatch office I would be parking the truck and going home upon arrival. Between my ailments and the upcoming storm, I had enough. Home I went. It was snowing by the time I arrived at the house.
This time it snowed even more than the last time. Instead of relaxing, I worked outside with the neighbor’s snow blower in between naps and bowls of chicken noodle soup. All the major interstates were closed in Pennsylvania. Around ten Wednesday evening I remembered I never checked in with dispatch since Monday. Whoops. I decided to call in and let them know I was alive and inquire about the current state of affairs. Good thing I did to because I learned I was planned on seven stops Thursday in Delaware! Unfortunately, the management of Delaware issued orders for ALL vehicles to stay off the roads until further notice or risk fines of millions of dollars if they catch you.
I ended up running that trip on Friday with hardly any problems then went home for the weekend. It was the least financially productive week I have had in my entire career thus far. I care not, with the way I was feeling I was better off at home anyway. I would have rather been at home wishing I was on the road than being stuck somewhere on the road wishing I were at home. Besides, it’s tax refund time. In Addition, I created the “Jason Harry is wallowing-in-misery relief fund.” Feel free to donate!
Thankfully that week was over and on Monday I ran a relaxing load up around the Syracuse, New York area with not one problem. The only issue was my consistent use of the tissue. For some reason the lower half of my body was feeling better but I felt a continuous need to rip the left half of my face clean off! I was in full-blown severe cold mode. At this point, I was growing very frustrated with my health related maladies!
Upon my return to the yard and almost out of hours, I called in for my next load: seven stops in Connecticut, another act of aggression by my dispatchers, or so I thought at the time. I went home with plans to leave at O’dark thirty and hope for the best. My only concern was the forecast: another coastal storm threatening with the white yucky stuff. At this junction I was done with the weatherman, done with Mother Nature and done sitting around at home. I planned on doing the best I could to make some dollars; at least until the wallowing-in-misery donations start rolling in.
I was standing in my local Turkey Hill Tuesday morning at a painfully early hour. I was there for coffee and some kind of medication that wouldn’t wipe me out so I wouldn’t wipe out on the road. I ultimately decided to skip the medicine rather than take the risk. The first half of the day (other than my persistent runny nose, sneezing and coughing) went pretty good. The second half wasn’t as good. Nearing the final couple stops, it began to snow. Not just a little either, but a lot! The roads became so bad I considered shutting down for the day, but since I was heading south towards Bridgeport I thought it may improve. It did for a while. Here’s how things looked in Orange, CT:
I finished up my third to last stop in Bridgeport and made my way to my second to last stop, also in Bridgeport. I was paying a lot of attention to where I was going since I was not entirely sure of where I was going, even with the GPS. I saw three kids standing on a corner then I saw an intersection ahead and began my approach when all of a sudden WHAM! I heard the loudest noise in the world right off my left shoulder and almost jumped out of my seat. I looked to the left expecting to see a broken window and a gunshot wound on my body, instead I saw the remnants of a well-aimed snowball sliding down the glass on my driver’s side window. It momentarily shook me up but I regained my composure and thought “nice shot.” This turned out later to be a defining moment on how my life has been going lately.
After finishing my last stop I called in to dispatch and I was almost positive I would be heading home- I had more chicken noodle soup on my mind and more sleep being craved by my body. Instead, I received instructions to head to our remote company outpost in Massachusetts and pick up a 9-stop load for delivery on Wednesday. Since the trailer wouldn’t be there until after midnight, I figured I’d drive the 82 miles to the truck stop 10 miles shy of our drop yard. Since it was only 4:30 in the afternoon I was happy I would be there around 6pm and score even more rest. I was wrong.
By this point, it was really snowing. I jumped on interstate 91 heading north and before I knew it, traffic stopped. It barely moved for the next THREE hours. The roads were a complete and total mess; trucks (and even cars) were stuck all over the place. My thoughts turned again to what I did to offend the universe followed by daydreams of scoring a local driving job in Miami. To help you visualize how bad this situation was, I offer up another video. This one is rated PG so bring the kids along and make sure you turn up the volume, one of my favorite songs of all time is playing in the background!
This journey should have taken me about an hour half at most. Due to Mother Nature’s act of aggression (apparently such acts are contagious) and the Connecticut Department of Transportations utter incompetence in dealing with snow on the roads, it took four and one half. I arrived at the truck stop completely dazed and confused. I had hoped to have a few hours to unwind, think things over, read War & Peace, get a hot shower and hit the sack. I skipped the formalities, got a hot shower and hit the sack. Before I did, I had a short talk with the inner workings of my body. I visualized the cells inside my body while I spoke to my insides: “This is getting completely ridiculous, I want you guys to do your job and fight off whatever has been going wrong over the last few weeks. I expect to wake up and feel good for once and for all!” I looked up at my bed and held the thought “I’m not just going to sleep for rest, I’m going to sleep for a healing rest.” I laid down in bed and within seconds I was out cold for a solid eight hours.
When the alarm started screaming the next morning I shot right up. I felt strange. There was a lack of sneezing and an absence of itchy watery eyes. I actually felt good! My little talk with myself actually worked! I sat there a few moments in complete amazement; I felt like a man who had went to bed in jail and woke up the next morning a free man. Not only that, but I had Dunkin Donuts coffee and a snow free forecast- things were finally looking up!
The 9-drop load was completed in good time, and it was one of the best times I had out on the road in a long time. I had almost forgotten how good it feels to feel good. When the trailer was empty, I was sent back to our remote outpost for yet another 5-stop load the next day. The only difference was that this time I was parked back at the truck stop when I hoped, which was actually before dark. That never happens this time of year given our lack of proper sun light allocation!
The 5-drop load went off without a hitch with the exception of one small hiccup at my second stop of the day in Worcester, MA. I was sitting along the curb of the customer’s location waiting for traffic to clear so I could back in off the road and into their driveway.
Impatience was setting in when I noticed in my mirror a police car (with lights on) blocking the intersection behind me. “This is great!” I thought as I began to pull forward thinking he was actually holding up traffic behind me so I could do what he must have known I needed to do. As I inched forward I heard that angry police car sound of ERR-ERRRR. What the? I inched forward a little more. ERR-ERRRRR! I looked back wondering what in the heck his problem was and all of a sudden I see a hearse preceding a long line of cars with their lights and hazard lights activated. “Oh My Lord, A funeral!” I quickly backed up the few inches I had moved forward. The lady sitting in the shotgun seat in the front of the hearse waved at me and mouthed “thank-you” as they passed. I watched the long line of cars go by and I sat there, thinking about the significance of it all. I figured this scenario happened when it did by order of the Universe. It symbolized the fact that if I wasn’t resting comfortably in the back of the hearse for all of eternity, or grieving a loved one in one of the cars behind, I really have nothing to complain about! After the procession passed me by, the cop stopped and thanked me. I backed in the driveway, unloaded my stop and headed for the next one.
Oddly enough, as I was heading south on 290, I looked off the bridge to my right and I saw yet another funeral procession on the road below! Never have I seen two in one day! Words started to fly out of my mouth: “I get it, you darn Universe you, there’s no need to keep showing me funeral processions!” The last thing I wanted to happen was for the Universe to start offing people intentionally just to make a point, especially when I understood the lesson the first time around!
The rest of the stops were completed and it was as much fun as the day prior. The difference this time I was sent back to Leesport and that honestly left me feeling a tad bit sad. I had such a good time up north and wouldn’t have minded pulling another load out of our drop yard on Friday. I began the long trip from Providence RI back to Pa and again the traffic was way better than I thought it would have been. My arrival wouldn’t be until 10 at night and I was overcome by curiosity of what Friday might bring. Once I crossed the PA border, I called in for my next trip and was informed I was finished for the week and given instructions to enjoy my weekend!
I used the six hour ride home to not only enjoy some quality love songs, but also to reflect on the past few weeks. The stress of the weather and the musical truck situation may have led to my downward spiral of my personal health (well, that and several weeks of being subjected to country music.) Maybe I just let it all get to me more than I should have. It’s so rare of me too feel so bad for so long that I have no other explanation for it all. I saw lots of bad (mostly small white dots that piled into mounds) and lots of good (truckers helping truckers). The best part about this week? As I wrap up this story I got a call saying my truck is done at the doctor and will be ready for me when I am! I have officially switched from bad–to-worse to good-to-great!
I would be considered ignorant if I didn’t acknowledge the fact that I should feel very fortunate (and I do) of having the privilege of spending the past week working out of our top-secret outpost in New England. This steered me clear from the Baltimore and Washington DC regions that are still somewhat like disaster areas. I have talked to several of our drivers and heard about others and the difficulties they had to endure down there. I haven’t been down south since the second traumatic record setting snowfall, but I hear for truckers, it has the stress equivalent of being sent into a war zone. There’s no telling where I’d be now if I had to endure what I heard some of them have been through, but I’m fairly certain after these last few weeks, I may have earned myself a free straightjacket. My hat is off to them, putting up with all that while I was up vacationing in New England. I’m considering offering up a couple hundred dollar bribe to my planner to send me north again next week, and maybe the week after that!
In the greater scope of things the big turning point was the snowball. It wasn’t some random kid on the sidewalk with a good aim that threw it; it was the universe (once again). The snowball was it’s way of saying “snap out of it Jason, this isn’t you and I can’t bare to see you wallow in your misery any longer!” It worked; I swear I started to feel different (in a good kind of way) right after it scared the holy heck out of me. Wake-up-snap-out-of-it events can happen in all kinds of strange (and even scary) ways. I feel fortunate mine was only a snowball and not a nightstand or even worse, a dresser falling on my head!
Hopefully after reading this, you’ll understand my absence from writing for so long. We are all capable of getting ourselves into a funk and it’s even easier to fall into a tsunami of a wintertime funk if you allow it to happen. Hopefully you have been able to avoid a mess like this yourself, but if not, it won’t last forever. Just look for the snowball type of event that is your cue to snap out of it. If I can pull myself out of such a nasty wintertime funk, anyone can!
If all else fails, I offer you one word of comfort: Spring. Coming soon to a calendar near you (and me!)
Three weeks ago, I finished up training my latest student and was looking forward to getting back into my own routine. No more collaborating departure times, meal times, stuff like that. The new guy, Bill, was a pleasure to work with, but I really looked forward to having my brand new truck all to myself. Bill was a big fan of country music (which could have brought on my physical ailments) so I eagerly anticipated driving my new truck along with my favorite XM channel I missed so much: Love. I’m half convinced missing my daily dose of love songs directly contributed to my physical and mental deterioration!
Unfortunately, my brand new 2010 Volvo lasted all of five thousand miles before the turbo was deemed defective, and I haven’t driven her in the weeks since. Last I heard, there was a six-month backlog on replacement turbo units so I might not see her again for a while. All I have is a few memories of our brief time together and a picture in my wallet that I occasionally pull out and stare at while letting the tears flow.
When I received my 2010, my 2008 was still in the shop as it had been for several weeks. After the turbo took away my baby, I was given another 2008 spare truck to use til my new truck returns. At one point, I had 3 trucks with my stuff inside of them, my 08’ in the shop, the sickly new 10’ in the yard and now the 08 spare I was given!
As nice as a Volvo truck is to drive when it’s healthy, my frustration level with the entire brand is reaching new heights. Recently, while driving down the road I considered what I might do if Volvo was the only automobile manufacturer left in business on the Planet. I came to the conclusion I would save my money instead of buying one of their cars. I’d use my savings to buy a farm, where I would grow my own food and thereby never have the need to be driving anywhere and if I did, I would just hop on one of my horses in the stable. If I ever give up driving trucks around, I’m going in search of an Amish family to adopt me!
On my first full week going solo again, I was dispatched to begin the week in Pittsburgh, an act I considered to be evil by my dispatch office, but nonetheless I was looking forward to it because I would be alone again. Unfortunately, this was the Monday after the first Grand Slam of a winter storm, one that dumped at least a foot or more on the city I am already not real fond of! To make matters worse, that Saturday evening I became violently ill and spent part of the night praying to the porcelain god. As bad as I felt, I was almost relieved that if my illness continued I may not make Pittsburgh at all. I’m happy to report I was feeling well enough on Sunday morning to make a go of it, tough guy (that I like to think) I am.
Watching the weather and news reports, a small inner voice inside of me kept suggesting it might be best to not leave on the trip. Part of the problem was that the city is hard enough to navigate without fifty foot snow banks everywhere and the other part was the concern some customers might not have their lots cleaned up and ready for business. To help alleviate my anxiety, I called my second to last stop (out of 7 stops) on Sunday and asked how things look. “Oh it’s bad right now, we can’t even park our cars, but we’ll have it all cleaned up by the time you get here!” This brought me comfort since they were getting the most pieces on the smallest piece of real estate. I packed my five thousand bags into my temporary truck and off I went into the night. By the way, I missed the Superbowl on the drive out, who won?
Most roads were clear while others were less than desirable with several inches of solid packed ice and snow, which made for a slow go. Certain turns required an even wider swing and a louder prayer to make. I made it all the way to my third from last stop where I called my second to last stop to let them know I was on the way. Remember, this was the place I called on Sunday before I left. This is what they told me: “We’re not cleaned out yet and not accepting deliveries.” I asked when they would be accepting deliveries. “Don’t know.” Lovely. My dispatchers told me to “hang tight” while they figured out what would happen next. If you have ever been in downtown Pittsburgh in an eighteen-wheeler, it is slightly impossible to hang tight. Three hours later, it was decided I would be delivering the stop in question to a different warehouse the next morning.
To make matters worse, I was feeling less than lovely ALL day long. Mostly stomach related issues and fatigue, one I tried to blame on my Wife’s cooking, the other on my weather related woes. Either way, I was almost happy to learn I would have to spend the night and deliver the next stop in the morning. Since it was only 5 pm, I would have all kinds of time to rest up. My only remaining concern was making it back out of town before the NEXT winter wallop would arrive, as it was predicted to begin the next day, sometime around late morning.
I was actually moving while “hanging tight” and I ended up spending the night at a service plaza along the turnpike. My fuel was running a little on the low side and with a winter storm approaching, I came up with what I thought was a grand plan to resolve the situation. I’d simply head out to the Pilot off interstate 70 then head North on 79 to get to my first stop. It was a few miles longer so I planned on leaving early to allow for the fuel stop.
Tuesday morning I woke up and still felt woozy. I just wanted to get these stops done as quickly as possible then get home before the roads got too bad. I made trails to the Pilot and easily found an open set of fuel pumps. Got my fuel. Got my favorite Pilot Coffee. Ready, set and UH-OH! The truck leaving in front of me got stuck trying to exit onto the road. There is no other exit and I’m trapped. I look at the situation and the clock and begin to wonder why the universe hates me so much.
In retrospect, it turned out to be one of the best parts of the trip and a reason I am happy I stopped for fuel where (and when) I did.
When the guy got stuck in front of me, I thought, “uh-oh, here we go.” I had the CB turned on and immediately I braced for the barrage of other truckers calling the guy an idiot and every other inappropriate name under the sun. I felt bad for him. To my utter surprise, it never materialized, but something else did. It started with people politely suggesting to him, via the CB, of things to try. Nothing was working; he was really stuck. I wished I had a shovel. All of a sudden, a driver that was parked in the lot heard what was happening and got on the radio and told him to hold on, he’d be out in a minute to pull him out. What?
I watched as a Flatbed truck exited the property from the one-way entrance to the place, entirely orchestrated by other truckers on the CB. Nobody entered til the flatbed got out. I listened as someone else came on the radio and said the same thing happened to him last night and the same guy came and pulled him out. One guy thanked the flatbed driver and said “we need more guys like you out here” and I silently agreed. I watched in amazement as he maneuvered into a parking lot across the street, backed up, hooked up some chains and eventually pulled the guy out. Here’s an actual video for your viewing pleasure but be aware the CB was on and I haven’t figured out a beep button to cover up any four letter words, so keep the small people with virgin ears away or simply turn down the volume!
I found the entire chain of events amazing. Here’s a driver parked, perhaps on a ten-hour break, sitting comfortably in his truck. He actually put himself aside and decided to take action where a lot of people, myself often included, might have just chosen to take the role of an active observer. Not only did he step in and help this guy, by default he helped a lot more people that were stuck behind him, myself included. From what I have heard from old timers, stuff like this happened routinely back in the day. I wonder why it ever stopped.
I made a mad dash out of the ice-covered truck stop and delivered the next stop at the warehouse. I called my LAST stop in Lawrenceville, PA and inquired about the best way to get there. I was told not to even attempt to come. Here we go again. Twenty minutes later I was given instructions to bring the final stop home to the yard. I was happy it was over with and just wanted to get home since I was really feeling nauseous at this point. In fact I informed my dispatch office I would be parking the truck and going home upon arrival. Between my ailments and the upcoming storm, I had enough. Home I went. It was snowing by the time I arrived at the house.
This time it snowed even more than the last time. Instead of relaxing, I worked outside with the neighbor’s snow blower in between naps and bowls of chicken noodle soup. All the major interstates were closed in Pennsylvania. Around ten Wednesday evening I remembered I never checked in with dispatch since Monday. Whoops. I decided to call in and let them know I was alive and inquire about the current state of affairs. Good thing I did to because I learned I was planned on seven stops Thursday in Delaware! Unfortunately, the management of Delaware issued orders for ALL vehicles to stay off the roads until further notice or risk fines of millions of dollars if they catch you.
I ended up running that trip on Friday with hardly any problems then went home for the weekend. It was the least financially productive week I have had in my entire career thus far. I care not, with the way I was feeling I was better off at home anyway. I would have rather been at home wishing I was on the road than being stuck somewhere on the road wishing I were at home. Besides, it’s tax refund time. In Addition, I created the “Jason Harry is wallowing-in-misery relief fund.” Feel free to donate!
Thankfully that week was over and on Monday I ran a relaxing load up around the Syracuse, New York area with not one problem. The only issue was my consistent use of the tissue. For some reason the lower half of my body was feeling better but I felt a continuous need to rip the left half of my face clean off! I was in full-blown severe cold mode. At this point, I was growing very frustrated with my health related maladies!
Upon my return to the yard and almost out of hours, I called in for my next load: seven stops in Connecticut, another act of aggression by my dispatchers, or so I thought at the time. I went home with plans to leave at O’dark thirty and hope for the best. My only concern was the forecast: another coastal storm threatening with the white yucky stuff. At this junction I was done with the weatherman, done with Mother Nature and done sitting around at home. I planned on doing the best I could to make some dollars; at least until the wallowing-in-misery donations start rolling in.
I was standing in my local Turkey Hill Tuesday morning at a painfully early hour. I was there for coffee and some kind of medication that wouldn’t wipe me out so I wouldn’t wipe out on the road. I ultimately decided to skip the medicine rather than take the risk. The first half of the day (other than my persistent runny nose, sneezing and coughing) went pretty good. The second half wasn’t as good. Nearing the final couple stops, it began to snow. Not just a little either, but a lot! The roads became so bad I considered shutting down for the day, but since I was heading south towards Bridgeport I thought it may improve. It did for a while. Here’s how things looked in Orange, CT:
I finished up my third to last stop in Bridgeport and made my way to my second to last stop, also in Bridgeport. I was paying a lot of attention to where I was going since I was not entirely sure of where I was going, even with the GPS. I saw three kids standing on a corner then I saw an intersection ahead and began my approach when all of a sudden WHAM! I heard the loudest noise in the world right off my left shoulder and almost jumped out of my seat. I looked to the left expecting to see a broken window and a gunshot wound on my body, instead I saw the remnants of a well-aimed snowball sliding down the glass on my driver’s side window. It momentarily shook me up but I regained my composure and thought “nice shot.” This turned out later to be a defining moment on how my life has been going lately.
After finishing my last stop I called in to dispatch and I was almost positive I would be heading home- I had more chicken noodle soup on my mind and more sleep being craved by my body. Instead, I received instructions to head to our remote company outpost in Massachusetts and pick up a 9-stop load for delivery on Wednesday. Since the trailer wouldn’t be there until after midnight, I figured I’d drive the 82 miles to the truck stop 10 miles shy of our drop yard. Since it was only 4:30 in the afternoon I was happy I would be there around 6pm and score even more rest. I was wrong.
By this point, it was really snowing. I jumped on interstate 91 heading north and before I knew it, traffic stopped. It barely moved for the next THREE hours. The roads were a complete and total mess; trucks (and even cars) were stuck all over the place. My thoughts turned again to what I did to offend the universe followed by daydreams of scoring a local driving job in Miami. To help you visualize how bad this situation was, I offer up another video. This one is rated PG so bring the kids along and make sure you turn up the volume, one of my favorite songs of all time is playing in the background!
This journey should have taken me about an hour half at most. Due to Mother Nature’s act of aggression (apparently such acts are contagious) and the Connecticut Department of Transportations utter incompetence in dealing with snow on the roads, it took four and one half. I arrived at the truck stop completely dazed and confused. I had hoped to have a few hours to unwind, think things over, read War & Peace, get a hot shower and hit the sack. I skipped the formalities, got a hot shower and hit the sack. Before I did, I had a short talk with the inner workings of my body. I visualized the cells inside my body while I spoke to my insides: “This is getting completely ridiculous, I want you guys to do your job and fight off whatever has been going wrong over the last few weeks. I expect to wake up and feel good for once and for all!” I looked up at my bed and held the thought “I’m not just going to sleep for rest, I’m going to sleep for a healing rest.” I laid down in bed and within seconds I was out cold for a solid eight hours.
When the alarm started screaming the next morning I shot right up. I felt strange. There was a lack of sneezing and an absence of itchy watery eyes. I actually felt good! My little talk with myself actually worked! I sat there a few moments in complete amazement; I felt like a man who had went to bed in jail and woke up the next morning a free man. Not only that, but I had Dunkin Donuts coffee and a snow free forecast- things were finally looking up!
The 9-drop load was completed in good time, and it was one of the best times I had out on the road in a long time. I had almost forgotten how good it feels to feel good. When the trailer was empty, I was sent back to our remote outpost for yet another 5-stop load the next day. The only difference was that this time I was parked back at the truck stop when I hoped, which was actually before dark. That never happens this time of year given our lack of proper sun light allocation!
The 5-drop load went off without a hitch with the exception of one small hiccup at my second stop of the day in Worcester, MA. I was sitting along the curb of the customer’s location waiting for traffic to clear so I could back in off the road and into their driveway.
Impatience was setting in when I noticed in my mirror a police car (with lights on) blocking the intersection behind me. “This is great!” I thought as I began to pull forward thinking he was actually holding up traffic behind me so I could do what he must have known I needed to do. As I inched forward I heard that angry police car sound of ERR-ERRRR. What the? I inched forward a little more. ERR-ERRRRR! I looked back wondering what in the heck his problem was and all of a sudden I see a hearse preceding a long line of cars with their lights and hazard lights activated. “Oh My Lord, A funeral!” I quickly backed up the few inches I had moved forward. The lady sitting in the shotgun seat in the front of the hearse waved at me and mouthed “thank-you” as they passed. I watched the long line of cars go by and I sat there, thinking about the significance of it all. I figured this scenario happened when it did by order of the Universe. It symbolized the fact that if I wasn’t resting comfortably in the back of the hearse for all of eternity, or grieving a loved one in one of the cars behind, I really have nothing to complain about! After the procession passed me by, the cop stopped and thanked me. I backed in the driveway, unloaded my stop and headed for the next one.
Oddly enough, as I was heading south on 290, I looked off the bridge to my right and I saw yet another funeral procession on the road below! Never have I seen two in one day! Words started to fly out of my mouth: “I get it, you darn Universe you, there’s no need to keep showing me funeral processions!” The last thing I wanted to happen was for the Universe to start offing people intentionally just to make a point, especially when I understood the lesson the first time around!
The rest of the stops were completed and it was as much fun as the day prior. The difference this time I was sent back to Leesport and that honestly left me feeling a tad bit sad. I had such a good time up north and wouldn’t have minded pulling another load out of our drop yard on Friday. I began the long trip from Providence RI back to Pa and again the traffic was way better than I thought it would have been. My arrival wouldn’t be until 10 at night and I was overcome by curiosity of what Friday might bring. Once I crossed the PA border, I called in for my next trip and was informed I was finished for the week and given instructions to enjoy my weekend!
I used the six hour ride home to not only enjoy some quality love songs, but also to reflect on the past few weeks. The stress of the weather and the musical truck situation may have led to my downward spiral of my personal health (well, that and several weeks of being subjected to country music.) Maybe I just let it all get to me more than I should have. It’s so rare of me too feel so bad for so long that I have no other explanation for it all. I saw lots of bad (mostly small white dots that piled into mounds) and lots of good (truckers helping truckers). The best part about this week? As I wrap up this story I got a call saying my truck is done at the doctor and will be ready for me when I am! I have officially switched from bad–to-worse to good-to-great!
I would be considered ignorant if I didn’t acknowledge the fact that I should feel very fortunate (and I do) of having the privilege of spending the past week working out of our top-secret outpost in New England. This steered me clear from the Baltimore and Washington DC regions that are still somewhat like disaster areas. I have talked to several of our drivers and heard about others and the difficulties they had to endure down there. I haven’t been down south since the second traumatic record setting snowfall, but I hear for truckers, it has the stress equivalent of being sent into a war zone. There’s no telling where I’d be now if I had to endure what I heard some of them have been through, but I’m fairly certain after these last few weeks, I may have earned myself a free straightjacket. My hat is off to them, putting up with all that while I was up vacationing in New England. I’m considering offering up a couple hundred dollar bribe to my planner to send me north again next week, and maybe the week after that!
In the greater scope of things the big turning point was the snowball. It wasn’t some random kid on the sidewalk with a good aim that threw it; it was the universe (once again). The snowball was it’s way of saying “snap out of it Jason, this isn’t you and I can’t bare to see you wallow in your misery any longer!” It worked; I swear I started to feel different (in a good kind of way) right after it scared the holy heck out of me. Wake-up-snap-out-of-it events can happen in all kinds of strange (and even scary) ways. I feel fortunate mine was only a snowball and not a nightstand or even worse, a dresser falling on my head!
Hopefully after reading this, you’ll understand my absence from writing for so long. We are all capable of getting ourselves into a funk and it’s even easier to fall into a tsunami of a wintertime funk if you allow it to happen. Hopefully you have been able to avoid a mess like this yourself, but if not, it won’t last forever. Just look for the snowball type of event that is your cue to snap out of it. If I can pull myself out of such a nasty wintertime funk, anyone can!
If all else fails, I offer you one word of comfort: Spring. Coming soon to a calendar near you (and me!)
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