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:
2 comments:
Holy shit man. My Dad drives super b's for a transport company here in BC and he's seen some crazy bad accidents, gotten into a few tight spots in his own truck but thankfully, never ever had an accident in the 25+ years he's been driving.
Glad you are ok and hope you saved a few french fries to snack on.
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