Truckstaposition

Each day can be a bit trying.

Finding the address for a shipper in an unfamiliar city, unhooking my old trailer and locating the right new trailer in a sea of nearly identical, white trailers, backing up to it (while ensuring that the fifth wheel is at the right height), raising the balky, rusty landing gear, then scaling the load correctly, dealing with bill-of-lading paperwork, finding my way back out, negotiating crazy urban rush hour traffic (just to find the correct freeway on-ramp) while just trying to keep sane might give out the impression that a Trucker's daily life is a lot more trouble than it's worth.

I keep busy; driving, observing, listening. Trying my best to keep a positive outlook. The job can be really stressful: what with impossibly tight schedules, way too much caffeine, highway potholes that are as big as a Buick and disrupted sleep patterns all part of my daily life. There is plenty of time to think about how I arrived here, plenty of time to ponder what, when (or even if) I am ever going to do something else. Thinking about past failures, missed opportunities, long-ago loves lost, repeated errors in judgement in just about everything. But pondering, reflecting and ruminating can quickly turn to worry, brooding and dwelling. And I need to avoid all that.

A lot of what I have to do (before I actually get to go somewhere) really is a big drag, but after getting my load, I reap the reward: I get to drive a big, shiny, powerful truck out on the open highway and see lots of cool stuff.

And there is always something cool to look at.

My truck has a gigantic windshield to peer out of. I sit up high; I look right down into cars and spy upon the drivers (and see what they're up to), I spot interesting old cars over backyard fences, I see what people are growing in their gardens. I can also see far ahead; scanning the horizon for any traffic hazards, "stale" green lights, loony pedestrians, sneaky Cops, glorious taco trucks, pretty girls and lots of wild critters.

I saw a bald eagle the other day. It was sitting in a tree, busily staring off into the distance while I was busy traveling along Hwy 84 along the Columbia Gorge. Seeing a bald eagle while at work? Cool. 

Lately, it has been the Snow Geese in the rice fields. Other times, I spot crows picking at squished carrion at the edge of the interstate, hares and coyotes out in the fields, big-ass elk and pointy Pronghorn Antelope. Red Tail hawks grasping the top of road signs with their toes, looking just like unstable fat chickens. Turkey vultures; they may be majestic in the air, but when walking around on land they strongly resemble self-conscious teenagers.

And I get to see Ospreys! Imagine that.

Correctly identifying row crops at 58 miles an hour has its shortcomings, though I don't really have time to pull over to better inspect. Potato, alfalfa, wheat, chickpea fields and apple groves in Washington. Berry canes, blueberries, hazelnut trees, hops and grass seed in Oregon. Almond, walnut, pistachio, grape, pomegranate and bushy olive plantations in California. (More newly-planted olives, lately. Something about big investors from Spain) Vineyards everywhere. Wineries everywhere, all with French names, most with open tasting rooms and haughty aspirations. ("Vin de Chateau Walla Walla")

I ponder why there are full grown, bearing pistachio trees growing along the freeway embankments, as if some trees escaped their orchard and jumped the fence to make a break for it. And why do yellow daisies only grow in straight lines along freeways (and seemingly, no place else)?

I drive by a lot of RV parks. The RV parks are filled, though it is still winter. They're not filled with people on vacation; they are the domiciles of the today's worker. Mobile Homes are pricey, but used motor homes and fifth wheels are affordable and are mopping up the temporary housing needs. Most RV parks that I see now rent by the month, are filled to capacity and it is clear that those folks are not on vacation. I see their white work trucks (always white) and wonder about their lives, glad that I am not them.

And I get to listen to all the NPR that I can stand. I drive around, leapfrogging from one NPR station to the next one in line. As I lose the signal from one, I fumble around on the left hand of the dial looking for the next one. It is kind of like Steve Inskeep and the overground railroad. I go from KCRW down in Los Angeles to Valley Public Radio to Capitol Public Radio to North State Public Radio to Jefferson Public Radio to KLCC in Eugene to Oregon Public Radio to Boise State Public Radio and so on. Each NPR affiliate is slightly different. Pledge drives, ad infinitum. When beyond the National Prius Radio listening areas, I either avoid the damn religious stations, play whatever CDs I have on hand or listen to podcasts. I devour podcasts, Freakanomics, Radiolab, Selected Shorts and This American Life being my favorites, and nobody is with me to tell me to "turn it down".

Each day can be a bit trying, except when everything works. When things are going reasonably well and I manage to find my way to the shipper's address on time, the rusty trailer tandems cooperate, I manage to get back out on the road in a reasonable time and even locate a clean restroom, life is good. The most important thing: I am steadily employed! And I doubt that I could ever put up with the old life again: commuting nearly an hour in each direction, working in a stifling office and going to pointless meetings run by jerks.

I am seeing too much and having too much fun. There is no turning back now.