Leaving Maverick

Maverick fired me this past Monday, February 12. Previously, I had banged up two tarp boxes, one on either side, and bent a crossbeam at the rear of the tractor. This accumulation of accidents caused Maverick to put me on probation, and the final straw was getting a speeding ticket on Saturday the 10th. Their liability exposure would be too great with a driver with a record like mine if I got in an accident where someone was injured. I reluctantly agree that I have not been a safe enough driver. No one was injured, and I certainly haven’t done anything, even cumulatively, that other drivers haven’t done. However, this is my first six months driving and Maverick is relatively strict in their procedures, so out I go.

I definitely feel ambivalent about not driving a truck right now. It is hard, dangerous work that calls for extraordinary endurance. I am proud to have done as well as I did, and to have taken on such difficult work in order to support us. No delivery of mine was ever damaged or late. I drove over 50,000 miles in six months working for Maverick. That averages out to just over 2,000 miles per week for the 24 weeks I actually drove. The average workday was between 14 and 16 hours. Usually, something like 3 hours loading, securing and tarping, 3 hours waiting to be unloaded, assigned a new load and to be loaded, and 8-10 hours driving. The other 8-10 hours I ate, slept, and, every other day, showered. Sometimes the eating and sleeping might happen during the waiting hours. Most often, I ate breakfast and lunch while driving.

I decided to try for truck driving when I couldn’t find a job in training and development. I now feel capable of finding work either in that field or doing any number of other things where I get to see Ann (& the dogs) every day, and sleep, eat and shower at home. There’re a vast number of occupations between T & OD and driving a truck, so I’m going to look around for a few weeks and see what I can find.

Here’s the biggest lesson I’m taking away, at least as I understand it now: When looking for work, either for my business or for a job, I felt a lot of fear that people would not respect and/or like me. When driving a truck, I felt a lot of fear that I would have an accident and be fired or killed.

I spent a lot of time thinking while driving about how I ended up behind the wheel of a big truck, what with the variety of education and experience that I have. The fear that inhibited me while looking for work was based on my long held belief that I’m not good enough. I recognize now that that feeling is not generally relevant, useful or well-grounded. The resulting fears pale in comparison to the spiking feeling through my heart as a curve at the bottom of a hill approaches too rapidly while I am attempting to control 78,000 lbs. of truck and cargo.

The perceptions others have of me was something I came to largely disregard when I started driving a truck. I’ve a lot of work to do still on that, but no longer feel disabled by my fears of what I imagine others perceive me to be. I intend to live in Durham and earn a livable wage in a job that avoids the more egregious forms of selling. I like much of the field of training and development and am looking there first, and am open to lots of other ways of making a living too. Your help and consideration are appreciated.

Stopping & Driving & Snow

A couple of experiences recently got my heart going. The first was a couple of weeks ago on our local Route 70 in Clayton, NC. I was westbound in the right lane around 6 PM Friday, on my way home after two weeks out. The truck and cargo weighed nearly 77,000 lbs. and I was traveling at the speed limit of 45 MPH with 100 yards of clear lane ahead, approaching a signal. A sedan pulled in front of me and began to accelerate, then slowed suddenly and stopped as the light ahead turned yellow, then red. As I saw the signal turn yellow, I was preparing to accelerate because I knew I couldn’t safely stop before I got to the intersection. Then her brake lights came on, I jammed on the brakes (anti-lock, I’m very pleased to say) and steered to the right onto the shoulder, coming to a stop alongside the car. I saw in my mirrors that all my wheels were smoking. I felt weirdly calm, or in shock, I’m not sure which. In any case, I stayed in the cab trying to decide what, if anything, to say to the driver of the car alongside. It is my sincere hope that they were sitting there terrified at the close call they’d just had. I couldn’t decide what to do, so simply waited for the light to turn and proceeded home. I did everything right and the car driver got to keep breathing. Please, understand that it takes a loaded truck two to six times longer, time and distance, to stop than it takes you in a car. This is not discretionary, and I bear you no ill will. It is, however, suicidal to stop suddenly a very short distance in front of a truck. I’ll have a bad day, and you’ll be dead.

The second experience was last week. There’d been ice and snow storms across the country, and I started out anxious that I might get my first shot at driving in frozen precipitation. The first day was a bit rainy, but the week till Friday was dry, and not even too cold, in most of Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania that I drove through. Friday I was sent to swap my second trailer that week. Maverick has drivers swap loaded trailers so the drivers can get home on the weekends and the loads keep going in the right direction without too much of a detour. I. e., the other driver’s load is going to NC and mine to TX, so we meet in TN and swap loads. Anyway, I took Rte. 33 from Interstate 81 across a little of VA and into the Monongahela National Forest and a bunch more of W. VA to meet a driver, swap trailers and get home for my 9AM Saturday dentist appointment. It’s a lovely road through a beautiful forest and I highly recommend it…. in a car. It is one of those up and down, twisty two-lane roads that are fun to play race driver in a car, or motorcycle. In a big truck, it is slow going and there is a lot to pay attention to. My truck is an automatic, but has the capacity to be shifted manually if selected. I did that in order to use power most effectively on the up and down parts. In addition to downshifiting, most trucks have engine retarders, commonly called jake brakes. These are mechanisms that use the exhaust cycle of the engine to help slow the truck when you take your foot off the accelerator. It can be quite loud and sounds like “Braaaaap!!!” or an unrestrained fart. The turning parts get tricky when it is fairly tight to the right. Months ago I dinged a tarp box (that hangs beneath the flatbed) against the side of a hill going around such a right-hand turn, so I’m pretty cautious about those.

Here’s how it went last week: I use my air horn and creep over into the oncoming lane a bit when taking those turns. That’s exciting, especially if you’re coming towards me. All went well, though. Then it starts to snow. About halfway through the mountains, I pass a big truck going the other way as we drive through a town in a valley and he hails me on the CB and we chat about the drive. He mentions how much more interesting it gets where I’m going, which arouses my curiosity. The roads are similar, if a bit steeper, but this is the only place near the East Coast that it is snowing that day with any accumulation at all. I am now a bit beyond excited into fearful and wondering how I will cope. I decide that my fear is distracting, and my imagination is not serving me well. I adopt an attitude that the snow, and the road, and the mountains and my truck and I are all interested in seeing me safely home and all I need to do is cooperate with them and I’ve nothing to fear. All those hours of sitting in the zendo have a very practical application, after all. Appreciating without resistance that snow is slippery and that it can’t change, so I’m what has to change, is more helpful than cursing my dispatcher, which I also did. This works pretty well as long as I pay attention to every relevant factor - road surface conditions, angle and directions; traffic coming and behind; shifting & the RPM’s that dictate gear changes up and down; how beautiful the mountains are. I cooperate with all of it and things go well. I ended up on time, just, for my dentist appointment.