I can't wait to see their faces when I get the nerve to say...
-Johnny Paycheck
As I had planned, I had a serious conversation with Mr. Jack Daniels when I got home on Saturday. I was confused and depressed, and I questioned whether I was cut out for a trucking life. At this company, I felt like little more than a mooing piece of cattle. I had already cleaned out my truck when I’d gotten back to Bridgeport, so I think that I had already unconsciously made my decision. Be that as it may, I spent the weekend thinking that, perhaps, I’d just accept getting screwed out of my check and tough it out awhile longer. I had only been with this company for about 5 months, and I didn’t know how difficult it would be to find another job.
On Sunday, I decided not to invite Mr. Daniels over again because it felt like he’d hit me in the head with a sledgehammer the previous night. I spent the day pondering my options, and nursing my hangover. When I went to bed on Sunday night, I was still unsure as to what I would do when I went in to talk to my terminal manager on Monday.
When the alarm rang on Monday morning, my decision became crystal clear as soon as I got out of bed. There was no question in my mind that I had absolutely no desire to drive this week. My mind was made up.
I went to the terminal and quit. It was not an ugly scene; I even shook hands with my terminal manager as I left, and he said that he would give me a good reference. I had already learned a hard lesson in regard to “burning bridges” in my former career. Also, a trucking company can make it difficult to find new employment if they are so inclined. A vindictive terminal manager might put misleading or false information on a driver’s DAC report. A DAC report is somewhat like a credit report for truckers. Like a credit report, few drivers ever send in for a copy of it, and the employer does not provide one. It is necessary to jump through some hoops to get a copy of the DAC report but, like a savvy consumer, the savvy trucker will always know what is on his DAC report.
I was glad that my parting had been painless and friendly, but now, my future was uncertain again. As I drove back to Scottsboro from Bridgeport, my mind reflected on the positive aspects of trucking. I actually liked the smell of diesel as I walked into a truck stop after shutting down for the evening. The rumble of the powerful engines served as an odd lullaby for me. I often enjoyed sitting at the end of a long day and drinking in the aroma of the night, and watching the traffic pass by as it left only time in its wake. It was relaxing and cathartic to watch the nocturnal activity as the cool wind caressed my face. In rare times like those, no matter where I was, I had felt as if there was no place else I’d rather be, or nothing else I’d rather be doing. Like a “runner’s high”, this was a type of “trucker’s high”. The occurrence of it is rare but, when it happens, you just sort of feel at one with the universe. I realized that I already missed the crazy life that I had left behind only moments ago.
The stark reality of uncertainty interrupted my reminiscence, and the insecurity of being unemployed cast its shadow over me.
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