Tag Archives: tractor trailer

i-26 interstate highway in Mars Hill, North Carolina

Where You Are When You Hear the News

Gord and Roy
In my best recollections, when I heard that Gord Downie died, I was driving on Perimeter Road in Greenville, South Carolina. I was heading toward Ethox Chemicals and was wondering how I could turn my transport truck around in their tight, gated parking lot. It’s not crazy hard to back into their docks; just time-consuming. I was listening to CBC (the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) on Sirius satellite radio, when the news came. Within moments I stopped on the side of the road because I was too upset to be amongst people.

Or maybe I remember incorrectly. Perhaps this scenario happened when Roy Halladay died. A quick bit of research tells me that my confusion makes sense. They passed away three weeks apart, to the day, in October and November 2017. I was equally sad in both cases.

For those not familiar with these two legends: Downie was the lead singer and songwriter for the iconic Canadian rock band The Tragically Hip. He died after a long and highly publicized battle with glioblastoma, brain cancer. Halladay was a Hall of Fame pitcher who spent most of his best years with my beloved Toronto Blue Jays. He died tragically when a small plane he was piloting crashed into the Gulf of Mexico.

Even though Downie’s death was expected, I cried more than I thought I would. I reflected on the Hip’s final concert, in August 2016. They performed in their hometown Kingston, Ontario. The show was simulcast on huge screens in hundreds of locations across Canada, including Burlington’s Spencer Smith Park, our gorgeous lakefront oasis. Kim and I were there, taking in each song from the relative comfort of our blanket on the grass. Downie displayed so much raw emotion, on his face and in his voice, clearly understanding that this was the last time he’d be singing live. By the time the last song, Ahead By A Century, was over, we could see a lot of moist eyes in the crowd of thousands of people. Continue reading

Evonik Goldschmidt, Hopewell Virginia

Rare Kindness In A World of Wrong Addresses

Why would Evonik Goldschmidt ever stick out as a customer? It’s not like I was picking up anything of note there. As far as I knew, it was to be another faceless warehouse. This one was in a small town just south of Richmond, Virginia.

EG was my second last stop in a tightly packed four days of deliveries and pickups. So far, I had crammed a lot of driving and freight moving into about 58 hours.

I had begun the whirlwind trip with two deliveries in upper state New York. Then I headed southeast for several drop-offs in the Baltimore-Washington area. Much further south, I unloaded a single pallet in Virginia Beach before burning all the way down to Washington, North Carolina. One big pick up there and I was headed back north into Virginia.

If your head is spinning just thinking about doing all that mad scrambling in three days, you’re right on target.

By the time I hit Wednesday evening (June 15th – my daughter’s birthday, incidentally) I was feeling drained. More importantly, legal-wise, I was running out of service hours for the day and was trying feverishly to get parked, to stay ‘in compliance.’ Personally, I was anxious to get home to a weekend of outdoor concert fun.

EG shouldn’t have been tough to find because it’s a huge factory and warehouse complex with a clear sign, a long wide driveway and prominent gated entrance. It’s the kind of well-marked compound that a communications junkie like me loves.

My arrival ought to have been swift and seamless.

But this is the trucking world after all, and chaos often reigns supreme. So …

Wrong address. Continue reading

Image of my comping shower bag

The Makeshift Shower Conundrum

Picture the startling scene

It could be any truck stop or rest area, at about 11pm, on a warm late summer evening. A large and nearly naked man stands beneath his truck’s ajar passenger door. In his hand he holds a spout that trickles water from the droopy bag which hangs above. He moves it quickly over various parts of his head and body, trying for a decent initial soak. He turns the small lever on the plastic spout to the off position and reaches for his container of Nivea Men Shower Gel – the ‘Energy 24 Hour Fresh Effect’ kind – that sits at the edge of the open door. He squeezes a medium amount into one hand, puts the container down, pours some into the other hand, then speedily spreads it over his exposed body, legs and feet. Within a few minutes he reopens the spout and fastidiously washes away all the gel, making sure to leave no skin untreated. Once satisfied with his work, he looks around, twice, to confirm there’s no one watching. Why would they watch, he wonders. He clumsily pushes his free hand down into his quick-dry shorts and feverishly soaps then washes the parts that will forever be unknown to unfamiliar eyes. All before the water in the bag runs out. Continue reading