Nature calls? Answer the CB
The ones and twos of life on the road in a commercial rig
Driving is the easy part. I’ve said that for years. It’s the other stuff that wears us out. Namely, paperwork and the ever-changing rules and regulations.
Ignorance is no excuse if you fail to read the small print. Mistakes mean big bucks out of the driver’s jeans. The company may pay initially, but sooner or later they always find a way to take it from the driver.
So that’s the tough part of our profession. Doesn’t mean there is no upside. I can remember one time having to pull over to the side of a very busy freeway because I was laughing so hard, I had tears rolling down my cheeks and I couldn’t see to drive.
Another driver, right out of the blue, started in on his verbal interpretation of something or other, but in an accent that was spot on and it caused strangers listening in on our CB radio conversation to react. They wanted to catch us and string us up by the nearest yardarm. Too funny.
Friendships. That is a big upside of driving a commercial rig.
Still on the topic of friendships and driving, if anyone has ever bought a car or pickup in the Greater Vancouver area in the last 35 years, they just might have done so with the help of Blair McCuaig. That’s how long he’s been in the four-wheel sales business. He loves it.
He is nothing like what most of us think a typical car salesman would be like. He answers quickly and always with a smile. He dresses in a suit or sports jacket with a tie, nice slacks. Blair is constantly moving. When he stops to talk, the conversation usually ends with a question. He wants to know something.
Blair nailed me the other day. Right out of the blue, he changed the topic of our conversation and asked me, “... how long can you drive your rig before you have to pee?”
I burst out laughing. I had never really given that question a lot of thought, but some funny situations suddenly came to mind.
You have to picture the rig and the area in which it is travelling. Going through a city, there is no hope of answering the call of Mother Nature. Out in the country, which is not the usual area the big rigs travel, it is somewhat easier to pull over to the side and hide between the drive tires of the rig and do one’s business. I remembered one time when Mother Nature gave me about 60 seconds to pull over or I was going to be in a whole mess of trouble.
Now who do you think expects to see a half-naked man doing some paperwork on the side of a freeway just north of Portland on a beautiful sunny afternoon? It was done in record time and nobody even blew a car horn in appreciation of what they thought they saw.
Another time in the middle of the night and on a back road in northern California, I used the time to let a long train travel down the track and block the crossing to answer Mother Nature’s call. Why not? Nobody around and not even a moon or stars to make it a worthwhile stop. When the job was done and I had climbed back into the cab, I suddenly realized ... no train tracks ... no train.
The mind is a mysterious thing. Some think we drivers are no-minds anyway by just driving a rig.
Even though I was dead tired and had a long way to go and a short time to get there, the little mystery break to let the phantom train go by was just what I needed. I did arrive at my destination safely and even managed to grab a few hours of sack time.
My bride smiled when I told her that story and swears I always have not one, but two guardian angels who travel with me and keep me safe. That explains some other strange times I’ve had.
And to answer Blair’s question, Vancouver to Portland is about my limit. Six or seven hours tops. I find it very difficult to shift gears when my teeth are floating.
I could fill a newspaper with stories about road life on the road, but why not share yours? Send them to Driving editor Andrew McCredie at amccredie@postmedia.com.