Fighting off the urge to start blubbering like a little girl, I began to study my immediate surroundings. There was a very small, grassy area behind the guard shack that was flanked by a double row of ditches. Under normal circumstances, I would have never, even remotely, considered taking a truck into a precarious area like this, but it appeared to be my one-and-only option.
I said a little prayer and the guard wished me good luck. To make matters worse, the automatic transmission on the Mack was starting to overheat, and I was having a hard time getting it to lock into gear. I would be glad that my next truck would not have an automatic transmission. As I warily entered the grassy area, I knew that there was no room for error. There were deep ditches on both sides of me and, if my trailer went too far into one of them, at best; I would be stuck, at worst; the truck could roll over! I don’t think that I had trembled and sweated this much since I’d gotten my first kiss from LeAnn Bickley when I was 14 years old.
There was some sort of a metal pole sticking out of the ground on my left, and I managed to completely destroy it as I rigidly maneuvered the truck between the two ditches. The guard, who was watching intently, and who also appeared quite nervous said, “Don’t worry about it man. Just do what you have to do.” I had probably made no less that a dozen vows to start attending church, and to never again forget Mother’s Day by the time I had negotiated the narrow course and had the truck back on the mountain trail. Even though I had knocked over most of the guard’s cones, he ran up to my window and let out a hearty “WHOOT!”
“Damn!” he panted, “I never thought you were going to make it!”
“I had my doubts too.” I conceded.
I attempted to get out and help him to set his cones upright, but he waved me off. He was probably just as glad to get rid of me as I was to get out of there. I decided that I would never do another “on the fly” route change in an unfamiliar area again.
I arrived in Vonore about an hour late for my appointment and had to sit for an additional two hours to be unloaded. The customer in Vonore had a “row of shame” for which tardy drivers were directed to go sit and wait. I didn’t even care. I was just happy to have survived my mountain adventure intact.
After Vonore, we delivered to Simpsonville, South Carolina and then, we went back to Camak, Georgia to pick up more lumber. In Camak, I would encounter my first peer who behaved like a bona-fide asshole.
The flatbed driver who was behind me in the loading line, apparently, took offense when I didn’t move to allow him into the loading area before I had secured my straps. I had waited for the guy ahead of me to get his straps on, so I didn’t see any reason why I should move before I had mine on. Obviously, this guy did not share the same sentiment, because he pulled ahead of me in the loading area in an attempt to block me in. He was as pissed off as a hornet with a blunted stinger and, I was getting pretty cranky myself. Nonetheless, I had no desire to go to jail today for planting my ratchet bar across his teeth so, I got back into my truck and eked past him despite his best effort to block my progress. I’ll admit that it gave me more than a little delight as I watched his eyes widen in horror as my trailer went past his tractor with a dime’s-width clearance. I offered him the bonus of a one-fingered salute as I left the yard with a devious smile on my face.
This load was supposed to be going to Bartow, Florida. I knew that this would run me over hours and eliminate my weekend so, I called my driver manager and told him that I was going to split it in Savannah. I didn’t ask him if I could—I told him that I would! I was beginning to lose the wide-eyed gape of a rookie, and I was getting fed up with the end-of-the-week antics of the company. My driver manager argued, but he finally relented.
I dropped my load in Savannah and picked up another one to take back to Bridgeport. Even so, it was after midnight on Saturday morning before I got back. This crap was starting to get old! It’s not what I’d signed on for, and it’s not what I’d been promised. I was, however, getting a valuable education as to how many trucking companies operate. I was already beginning to question my future with this company.
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