Despite the drawn curtains and the dreary morning and the short night, the Trucker was wake at his usual time. The thermometer read 41 degrees.
A leisurely breakfast in the restaurant because we had the time, then out to the Truck. It would seem, with 90 minutes til we are released to travel, that a good stiff walk would be in order. However, wet and cold feet carried us back to the truck.
How do you use the extra time? Tidy up the bunk. Journal. Check email. Realize the fridge is set to extra cold, as everything in it froze over night. Arrange the cord needed to charge the laptop. Learn how to connect the phone and radio via Bluetooth, which negates the need for the short cord purchased last night. Oops.
When all is done, time remains. The truck is cold. The outside thermometer reads 42 degrees. The Passenger has added heavy socks and a blanket.
Here is the thing: if the truck is turned on, and the Trucker hits one button on the screen by mistake, even with only a few minutes left, we would be stuck in this parking lot for another ten hours. There is nothing practical about this arrangement. All is pre-programmed and one-size-fits-all. No room for mistakes.
The cloud cover is breaking up. Breeze is graduating to wind. After four hours of wakeful waiting, the day begins.
West on Route 80, near Des Moine. 5PM. The sun shines warmly from a clear sky. The predicted rain-turning-to-snow from yesterday's forecast has not materialized. A herd of mustang ponies along the highway appear oblivious to traffic.
The little black box has been rendered speechless by the Trucker. The display, however, announces five hours and fifteen minutes of driving left for today. Another half hour break will need to happen sometime; most likely that will be shower time. The Trucker and I can shower and be back in the truck ready to roll in 25 minutes, so that will work.
The Passsenger has noticed the Trucker is more tense this trip. Not on the down hours - may as well relax, can't travel anyhow. But when driving, the pressure is on to make every minute count. It is not the low key enjoyment of doing his job well, as when he is not under electronic scrutiny.
West on Route 80, near Des Moine. 5PM. The sun shines warmly from a clear sky. The predicted rain-turning-to-snow from yesterday's forecast has not materialized. A herd of mustang ponies along the highway appear oblivious to traffic.
The little black box has been rendered speechless by the Trucker. The display, however, announces five hours and fifteen minutes of driving left for today. Another half hour break will need to happen sometime; most likely that will be shower time. The Trucker and I can shower and be back in the truck ready to roll in 25 minutes, so that will work.
The Passsenger has noticed the Trucker is more tense this trip. Not on the down hours - may as well relax, can't travel anyhow. But when driving, the pressure is on to make every minute count. It is not the low key enjoyment of doing his job well, as when he is not under electronic scrutiny.
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