Three Days in the Trucker's Life

Three Days in the Trucker’s Life

December 13-14 2017

The Ranch Hand at Montpelier, Idaho, was our roost for the night. Turning off the truck and the bunk heater before sleep seemed a good idea. The Passenger woke in the wee hours, comfortable in position, but any movement necessitated warming a new spot on the sheets. A few hours later, after the Trucker had flipped the heater switch, she found it necessary to wake him with a request to turn off the oven. Starting the day at 16 degrees made a chilly walk to the ladies’ room. The night was still dark; it would be several hours til the eastern sky showed light. Forecast for this area was a “freezing fog” warning.

Driving west on Route 80, the sky gradually lightened and day began. With light, the work of freezing fog became visible. Every tree, bush, grass blade, fence wire, roof, was coated as if sprayed, with the most delicate of white crystals. Like snow, and yet not. Intricate designs, not one repeated. The slightest touch of a finger melted them away as if they’d never been. Fog obscured the road ahead, and the beauty of hills and valleys. But roadsides were a wondrous sight.

Hour after hour we rolled west, little variance in the amount of traffic or the temperature, which had dropped to 8 then hovered around 20 degrees. Freezing fog continued to offer us beauty throughout the day.

 Time was passed by reading aloud the autobiography of David Pawson, Not as Bad as the Truth, until the Passenger’s throat was too raw to continue. She then turned to stitchery, only to break her remaining needle of proper size. How does one break a needle on Aida cloth??

 Ever the provider, the Trucker located a WalMart at Burley, Idaho, the GPS assuring us trucks were welcome. Not until we were swinging wide to enter the lot, did a sign come into our view proclaiming an unwelcome and threat of fine for trucks. The Boot and Shoe Outlet next door held a sign proclaiming trucks would be “booted,” and charged handsomely for the privilege of the “boot.” A restaurant further down echoed similar sentiment.

 All those empty lots, but no room at the inn, as it were. Really, all needed was a needle and #318 DMC floss! Jerome, Idaho, was the next try, and yielded up a friendly WalMart. Not only was the Passenger re-supplied, but a lunch break was taken while parked in the lot. Lasagna for the Trucker, chicken and rice for the Passenger.

By afternoon, we reached the Stage Stop near Boise, Idaho. A dirt and gravel lot. A small building long on western-themed amenities and short on patrons, at the moment. It boasted restaurant, convenience store, restrooms. Showers, laundry, exercise room with four pieces of equipment, and a theater room with free popcorn were reached by a wide staircase to the second floor.

 We learned that adjoining the theater room (which was showing a movie that interested neither of us) was a small private lounge with cushy recliners. As the temperature and condition of the lot were not conducive to the brisk walk the Passenger was longing for, recliners at least offered a comfortable change in sitting position. She had already paced the convenience store and hallway enough to warrant curious looks from staff and clerks, and was not dressed for the exercise room, so this was where relaxation happened for a few hours, he with the remote, she with stitching.

Then it was on to a rest area a few miles down the road, so that the truck’s pass through the Boise truck scales would be on the current day’s record. Already a row of sleeping trucks were lined up, motors or generators purring a deep rumble against the cold, exhaust floating lazily out of their stacks like so many sleeping dragons. At the edge of dark, even though yet two hours earlier by our EST internal clocks, it was called a day. The Trucker soon joined the ranks of sleeping dragons, while his Passenger struggled with thoughts, emotions, and sleeplessness.

A cell phone chirp at 10:15pm EST heralded a terse note from the Trucker Son, regarding snow blowing past his window. You know your child has become an adult and carries matching responsibilities when the forecast for snow brings dread instead of dancing. A motherly promise to pray for his safety went unanswered; the sandman must have intervened.

The 2:00AM alarm sent the sandman scurrying from the Passenger’s eyes only 90 minutes after he had arrived. A quick trot through the 22 degree chill, then down the road to WinnCo Foods warehouse.

The Trucker stops at the guard shack, runs in his paperwork, and is assigned door 126. Stopping a few feet from the door, he again enters the cold to open trailer doors before backing to the dock. Then another run to the office with his paperwork. Now we wait.

The clock stands at 2:30AM EST. Truckers are under strict warning that engines are not to be idled, under pain of a hefty fine. At 26 degrees outdoors, the cab and bunk chill quickly. Though a perfect night to view the annual Geminid Meteor shower, it would take a walk down the road, away from warehouse and truck light pollution. The truck’s relative warmth and safety prevails. A nap would be in order, but as a call to pull out could come at any moment, said nap is not an option.

The call never comes. At 5:45am, the Trucker reaches his limit, and checks back at the office. Yes, they were done, miraculously, just now! The truck pulled forward, the doors closed, the stop at the guard shack, and we are off. Ten minutes down the road, a TA fuel stop and free hot shower, with points earned by the fuel purchase. The fuel/shower routine is as efficient as it is welcome. In 40 minutes the truck is moving on. By 7:30am, a rest area at Ontario, Oregon, still cloaked in darkness. Naptime.

On the road again at 10am. The Trucker is refreshed, the Passenger not so much. An attempt at reading aloud assures the Passenger this will not be a day for speaking. The low grade fever she is wearing would have come in handy for warmth yesterday. Freezing fog again overspreads the area, and the truck rolls west on Route 84. A noon breakfast stop happens at the cafe in North Powder, Oregon, in Oregon Trail area.

 Damp, misty weather creates mud that covers the parking lot.

Indoors, a small dining area creatively capable of seating 42 diners at once. Homemade Christmas cheer lines the walls and windowsills.

 A wood burning stove sends out welcoming rays of heat. An extremely clean, beautiful restroom, faucet already running until turned off by the Passenger. A nook holding a small gift shop, complete with first aid supplies, jewelry, scarves, gloves, books, and much more, all with a Christian theme. Back at the table, food arrives.  Portions were plentiful.

 A few stereotypical locals with vintage pickups containing dogs, stopped in for breakfast and were greeted by name. A rack of free paperbacks and magazines by the door included a farming quarterly featuring a professional rat killer complete with photo evidence.

Route 84 led us into the mountains of Oregon, still accompanied by freezing fog and its attendant loveliness. The fog thickened, until while coming down out of the mountains, the Trucker became highly uneasy about the possibility of encountering another truck in the fog and being unable to stop in time. Or being on the receiving end of an encounter by a truck coming up behind. Thankfully, at no time did roads become slick.

By 2pm, an email appeared, containing location, amount, and pickup number for the assigned backhaul. Apples, to be found in Tieton, Washington. The Trucker ponders contacting his second delivery point to inquire about moving his delivery time from Friday morning to Thursday afternoon. 

Route 84 carried us along the Columbia River, where at one point, the marvel of a dam appeared. Water bursting out of the spillway, created a mini Niagara. Workers’ vehicles were parked on the dam itself, and somewhere near were locks to raise water levels for passing barges. And the sun has appeared, our first sighting in two days.

By phone, the Trucker reaches the warehouse location where the remaining pallets on his trailer are to be deposited. They are actually quite busy tomorrow. Yes, they will take the load today. Be there by 2:30pm local time. That can happen. And the mountain pass in the Columbia River Gorge leading to the re-load point can be traveled tonight, before tomorrow’s rain potentially turns icy on the steep grades. And, while the passenger can enjoy the night view across the gorge without actually seeing how far it is to “down.”

A strong wind has kicked up, bringing concern to the Trucker’s face, and even more complete attention to the wheel and road. The Passenger hangs onto the slim comfort that given wind direction, if the empty trailer is caught and flipped by wind (a distinct possibility), it will be blown into the mountainside on the left, and not down the mountainside on the right.

And so, three days on the road have passed. More are to come, Lord willing and the traffic doesn’t rise.