Big Time Truckin': True Trucking Stories
Dispatch 19: Wednesday

by Kirk Gonnsen

Wednesday is the longest day of my trucking week. It's so long that it starts on Tuesday at 5:45 PM. I wake up to the cellphone alarm or the 'back up' travel alarm after having slept for '8 consecutive hours of off duty sleep in the sleeper bunk of a transport vehicle' and get dressed. Shaking off the sleep I realize I'm in a truckstop outside of Columbus and not on the boardwalk of Cannes (that's not just a good comparison but the truth of my fucked up rags to riches to rag life). I stuff the agony of the truth deep into my guts and run to the Pilot truck-stop to urinate, buy a deli roast beef Subway sub and the first coffee of the trip. (Not forgetting my Subclub stamps which I lick and attach to my Subclub card).

I drive down to the Excel Warehouse in Obetz - it's still Columbus, but it's a burb - and after announcing my arrival to Shipping I back into door 15. The load is a Goodyear load. Lots of rubber hoses, rubber wheels, rubber this, rubber that. Goodyear is rubber. It's light, it's a good load. I sign lots of paperwork, talk about the weather, the war, and the life of the road with the other drivers and when my load is ready, I leave.

7:30 PM Drive to the Milan Warehouse in Columbus - still not really Columbus, but who cares anyway. Load up some miscellaneous cargo; car parts on special order, a machine, some paint, whatever. Sign some more paperwork. Call dispatch, tell them the Bill of Lading #, the weight and the number of skids. Next I call another dispatch and tell them my truck number, my trailer number and when I'm going to be at the border. Then I seal the trailer, check the truck and go.

The drive from Columbus to Van Buren, Ohio is generally fun. I listen to the Columbus rock stations - CD 101.1 (Alternative/Retro) The Buzz 99.7 - I think it's the Buzz - they play Stern in the morning, and the Big Whazoo 107.1 - rock/classic rock and sometimes 97.1 (easy rock) - anything to avoid commercials and silence. I like the drive through the city to be accompanied by a blasting soundtrack - it makes me feel like I'm in a long opening shot for a movie or the credits of a television show. I've tried to adapt myself to being a character in this imaginary show by smoking, or wearing a hat, or having a monkey as a companion but I don't like smoking or wearing a hat or cleaning up monkey shit when I drive.

I arrive at the Pilot Truckstop on I75 just outside Van Buren, OH. I used to worry about stopping at night but now I realize you can always park ahead of the gas pumps - it's now 11PM and all the parking spots are taken by the daytime drivers. For me and the other night runners the day has just begun. I urinate again, buy a footlong tuna sub, flirt with the Subway girls, check the weather channel on the row of TV/VCR's for sale, and refill my coffee mug. I also buy two chocolate bars, instead of the caffeine rush drinks or pills that are offered at the counter by the cash register. The favourite being a packet of little yellow pills called 'Trucker's love us.'

I wait until I'm past the Bowling Green weigh scale before I start eating my sub. At about the same time I can now get Detroit radio - that means 'Parker and the Man' sports show - I hate sports radio talk shows but I would rate this show in my top 5 radio shows of all time. It's that good. I especially enjoy TV themeshow Thursdays and Trash Talking Tuesdays - no shit. At midnight I start flipping between the Sport show and the Liz Copeland's show on NPR Detroit Public radio from Wayne State University - It's alternative, folk, dance, jazz, whatever she feels like playing. I thought that kind of radio didn't exist anymore, and if it did, it sucked - but this show is good and she has a nice voice, and her photo on the website is very flattering - yes, I'm in love. At 1 AM it's Loveline with Adam Corolla and Dr. Drew - it's a syndicated call-in sex show from L. A. sometimes with guests, mostly with Adam (The Man Show) ranting about having laws that would forbid stupid young mothers from having any more kids, unless they're baby girls, because baby girls from bad families always grow up to be strippers - it's a very funny couple of hours and sometimes it's so good I forget I'm working.

I cruise through Toledo, Monroe, Detroit, and eventually Port Huron. The latter means I'm crossing the border to Sarnia and I'm delayed at the broker while the paperwork is shuffled around the building until Customs agrees to let the load into the country. As far as I can tell it's mostly about tax collecting. I urinate again, and watch Sports highlights on the TV in the trucker's lounge while I wait. A handwritten sign warns the drivers 'do not adjust channels - tuned by satellite.' If I'm delayed too long at customs I resort to reading the leftover USA Today that is scattered around the room. Nobody talks too much now, it's 2 or 3 AM and everyone is glassy-eyed and we smell like McDonalds's or Tuna subs.

The drive from Sarnia to Dorchestor (a.k.a. London, Ontario) is dark, boring, plagued with bouts of falling asleep, bad overnight Canadian radio and horrible road conditions. All of this can be overcome with a carefully-timed snack consisting of a Juice Box, Hershey Bar and some daydreaming.

Lately the daydreams have been about a waitress at the Fifth Wheel Truckstop in Dorchester. She started working there a month ago, or at least started working the midnight shift at that time. She's in her early 20's, beautiful, lively, hardworking and she has that waitress charm down pat. I mean really down pat, considering she's working the midnight shift at a truckstop by herself. If you're trying to picture her, picture a softer Anne Heche. The long and short of it is, now I'm scheduling my night to have a break at this part of my trip just so I can talk to her. For the first month I would only fuel up the truck and my coffee mug as per normal (and yes, I would watch the waitress work, hoping for the occasional smile or chance to say hello.) but last week I stopped, and had a shower. (it's comp. with a fuel-up. You get your own shower room, with toilet and sink - it's very rewarding actually.) AND I also had breakfast at the counter so I could talk to the waitress. And I hate the counter vs. the booth.

BUT I've been in the booth too long. All you can do from the booth is look and leer, and wait for her to come around. At the counter, she's there most of the time, and you're suddenly involved in all of her conversations (if all goes well, I'll interview her for Somethingspace).

After Dorchester it's the drive to Toronto. Drop the load at a warehouse in Mississauga. Call dispatch. Pick up an empty trailer. Drive to wherever dispatch tells me; maybe Brampton, or Oakville, or Toronto harbour. Pick up a load bound for Columbus - again.

8:30 AM More waiting. This time it's waiting for the shipper to load. Listen to Stern, nap, read, talk with other drivers. When the load is ready, I drive back to Dorchester, eat the other half of the tuna sub I bought in Van Buren, shower if I haven't already showered before, and most importantly (according to my boss) I top up the fuel tanks so there's no possibility of having to buy fuel in the US at inflated exchange rates.

4 PM Drive to Wyoming. Ontario that is. 5 PM. Sleep. Dream of waitress.