1,000,000 Mile Reset

Last Friday I learned an interesting thing. Actually, the lesson was not learned until Monday, but the event that sparked the thing happened on Friday. The lesson is one of those that you never want to learn or ever pursue the answer for. You have to just learn it the hard way.

The lead dispatcher on the other end of the phone, I asked the only question that had been left unanswered the entire weekend. I wanted to know if I was going to lose my job for what had happened.

It was a good question. You cannot just lay a 40-ton machine on its side and keep your job. That is, unless you were a statistic.

"Never even entered my mind, Barry."

That was what he told me. Now, I have one hell of a rapport with my company. I am still the #1 driver over nearly 200 others. I drive further, better and more consistently than any other guy in the company. I have nicknames that reflect my status and the stories of my seemingly insane deeds float around the circles of conversation on a regular basis. Those facts might have helped me, but they were certainly not the deciding factor.

"Some companies give out awards to guys with a million or two million miles without an accident. Not us. Here, we say, 'This mother fucker's due.'"

I was due. That was all it was. Sure, there were some issues that came up mechanically. Yes, I was at the end of my prescribed 11-hour driving time and I was a bit tired; I was awake, but tired. The moon was full and that does things to people. You can try to throw in all the why's and wherefores that make an accident make sense, but it really came down to a statistical answer: You cannot drive for years and rack up millions of miles without having your number pulled eventually. Just like dice, you roll them until you lose. I lost. I dumped a truck like I was center screen in a Terminator movie. There were noises and dust and flying metal and flying french fries and me trapped in my seat belt like a fly waiting for the returning spider. But it all came down to a flick of the wrist and a pair of snake eyes when the dice hit the velvet. A statistic.

Fortunately, I was not killed. Hell, I was barely injured. I walked out of the truck like I had just parked it too fast; a little giddy and high-strung, but none the worse for wear. I have some nice bruises from the seat belt and I later got myself one hell of a sunburn while the rescue crews removed my fallen rig. (Fourteen hours in the Nevada sun with a bald head - not a pretty picture.)

It's kind of funny how people rationalize things. My first thought when I got to my feet was that this was going to require some explaining. I thought the explanations would take days and that people - experts - might even be brought in to determine exact causes of things. I have worked for companies that do things like that; fortunately, this is not one of those companies.

When you run hard you have to expect some setbacks. You have to keep in mind that this is not a job for the simple and less-than-dedicated driver. The trucking industry loses more people every year than any other industry. Sure, we're further down on the list percentage-wise, but we number well into the tens of millions. They may have us on the percentages, but we have the higher numbers. This job is not one for the weak of fortitude. It seems easy: pointing an over-sized car down the road and getting paid for it. But there are so many factors that people do not remember. That is why those dummies cut us off in traffic and dive across three lanes to hit an exit ramp just off the nose of tractor-trailer. They are ignorant.

Anyway, it's been one hell of a week. I have a new truck, just like the one I wrecked - also a perk of being the #1 guy. I hope that my luck will stand and that I can get over a million miles more before something like this happens again. Fortunately, I won't hit another million before I hang it up for good. But I just hope the luck holds.

Take care; and be good to one another.

Here's a look at my little accident:

On Cowardice

I have always prided myself on having courage. Like many boys, it took me years to start standing up for myself. I got pushed around many times in school. One day, I pushed back. Now, I do the pushing.

No, I'm not a bully. Not in the everyday sense at least. I am pushy, though. When we moved into our current place, I pushed the landlord around until I got what I wanted. I got a phone line put in. I got cable run in. I even got a fence built. Most of it wasn't his responsibility. But my backbone just happened to be thicker than his, so he did what I asked.

Being this way, I despise people who lack courage or even a general sense of standing up to another.

I was recently attacked by someone who misconstrued something I had written. When I had explained the basis of my writing and that he had been wrong to accuse me, he didn't even acknowledge it. Then, in an unrelated incident, he had some other writing of mine removed because someone else took it the wrong way. Is it my fault that people are sensitive? Should I change my outlook to suit weaker versions of men?

After these two incidents, I sought conference with this man. Both through email and telephonically. No response. Why? Because he's a fucking coward. He read my email and knew he couldn't compete. Why not, doctor? All that education left you with zero ability to have a verbal row with a lowly truck driver? I find the irony here just aglow. You can put all the letters you want behind your name; and maybe that makes you somebody. But you'll never forget the time a gear-jamming asshole out-smarted and out-reasoned you multiple times in one day. You'll also never forget the dick-shrivelling feeling that such knowledge gave you. You're not a man. You're just a fucking chump.

You're my bitch now, mother fucker.

Been quite a while...

Okay, so I haven't written in quite some time. In fact, this is my first posting for this year. There has been little outcry from what I can see on the news, so I guess everyone did alright without my gibberish.

I have had a lot of things going on lately; most of it I cannot talk about just yet. Certain people deserve the right to know before I post it on an open forum such as this.

However, I will try to throw a few things up occasionally to try to quench your insatiable thirst for horse shit.

Anyway, I was watching a clip on CNN today about that girl who hit the toll booth in southern California a few years back. Unless you've been sleeping under a rock for a while, you have seen the horrific pictures on the internet. Her parents, it seems, want them all taken down and have hired a lawyer to help get it done. Fine, great. I can understand where they are coming from.

What I have a problem with, however, is the fact that they're allowing the news to re-exploit this entire ordeal. Those pictures have been up forever and everyone has seen them. In fact, most people have, if not forgotten about them, at least let them die away. The parents should be pleased that their little girl is no longer plastered all over the internet on a daily basis. What did they think was going to happen when they took this story public? I guarantee that most of the sites that cater to that sort of entertainment will be more than happy to repost them on their front pages. Why not? Every time somebody that hasn't seen them punches that girl's name into Google, their site might get a hit from it.

I suppose some people just don't have the foresight that I have.