IT’S ALIVE!!!
Yep, I’ve decided to rejoin the blogosphere. As you might have guessed from my earlier blog posts, the truck delivery job just didn’t pan out. I did pick up a truck (a brand-new International sleeper cab) in Laredo, Texas. I drove it back up to Austin, then to Memphis (where I met TDPRIer RC and his wife, some very nice folks who let me use their shower!) and got to eat some ribs and hear some blues on Beale Street with RC. From there, I drove to SW Virginia (where I spent the night in a truck-only rest area) and on to Salisbury, Maryland, where I delivered the truck and went on home.
As I enjoyed the trip (and got good fuel economy and didn’t spend any money on motels once I got the truck!), I called in to inquire about more trips from Laredo, and yep, they had a truck they needed delivered to Landover, Maryland. I drove to Upper Marlboro (not far from Landover) and left my car at my friend Rob’s place. Rob dropped me off at the Metro station and I took the subway to National Airport and flew to Laredo (cost me $200 for the airfare, which was much less than driving there would cost!).
In Laredo, I discovered that the truck was a day cab, so no sleeping in it. Oh well. The trip back up to Maryland was otherwise the same as my earlier one, except that I had to get motel rooms in Austin, Memphis and Virginia. I dropped the truck off in Landover, my friend Rob came and got me, and I drove on home to Ocean Pines.
…and pretty quickly calculated that I was making very small money for the amount of time and effort, and also found that my charter bus employer had plenty of work for me, so that was the end of my short career as a drive-away truck driver!
The following year was the same routine of driving bus charters and playing gigs with my band The Mood Swingers, and in January of 2011 my Mom and Uncle Pat and I went to California for two weeks (Mom had never been there) and, renting a car, drove a loop from LA to San Diego to LA up I-5 to the Bay area and then up to Sonoma County (much wine and laughter!), then a day in San Francisco (love it), followed by a drive down through Monterey to Big Sur, where we stayed at Deetjen’s Big Sur Inn (absolutely magical), and then drove down the sublime Pacific Coast Highway to Hearst Castle (wow!) and spent a very nice evening in Pismo Beach (clams!) and on back to LA and flew home. A trip that deserved it’s own much longer write-up, but I wasn’t blogging then!
The following year DOES deserve its own blog post, which I will write shortly!
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Monday, March 08, 2010
Old New Friends
So there I was in Wahpeton, North Dakota on a Friday evening, pretty sure I had just wasted three days of driving, a long way from home. I sure wasn't going to stay in North Dakota, and I didn't see any good reason to go to Ham Lake, Minnesota, as I couldn't legally pick up the truck there without a Bill of Lading. And I sure wasn't gonna hang around there until Monday burning motel money, not after my unprofitable trip out.
So I decided to head back down to Omaha and spend the weekend hanging out with my uncle Pat, who's my godfather and one of the coolest guys alive. By the time I came to that decision, it was dark and I realized that I wasn't going to make it all the way back down to Omaha in timely fashion, so I decided I'd head back down I-35 to Brookings, South Dakota, which was my Mom's (and Pat's) hometown.
First I had to get my car clean, though. Pulling it behind a bobtail semi (don't you love trucker jargon? That means cab with no trailer...) for 1700 miles meant every bit of road grime imaginable now covered the car. This car is actually dark blue:
The guys who took delivery of the truck offered me their pressure washer, and I got an amazing amount of the accumulated grime off, and then I drove into town and found a gas station with a car wash and cleaned it again. It needed it! It felt good to have my car looking somewhat more reputable.
Then I headed back out towards the Interstate. By now it was dark, and getting foggy to boot. As I headed south, I slowly came to the realization that this wasn't just fog, it was freezing fog, and my car was icing up! As was the road!!! Running my defrosters full blast took care of the windshield, and I slowed down a bit when I felt the road begin to get a little slick. I'm pretty sure I was the only one who bothered to, though, as cowboys in pickup trucks kept blowing past me going OVER the 75 mph speed limit. Maybe that's what keeps the population down out there...
Upon reaching the South Dakota line, I pulled off the highway at the huge glitzy Dakota Magic Casino (owned by the Dakota Sioux nation), having been told by the guys in Wahpeton that they had cheap hotel rooms there. WRONG! There was nothing cheap there. So I drove on to Brookings, where I found a high school chorus competition took all the cheap motel rooms. Exhausted, I bit the bullet and stayed in a very nice $95 room at the Holiday Inn and Suites. Ouch! I vaguely recall walking across the street to Applebees and eating dinner...
Saturday morning I slept in (hey, if I was going to spend a lot of money, I was going to ENJOY it!), and about 11 am I drove into Brookings to find it a quite nice town. It's home to South Dakota State University, and reminded me a little of my former home of Fort Collins, Colorado, another college town. Downtown, the main drag was much as my Mom described it, and after cruising the main drag, I pulled in at Nick's Hamburger Shop, a place I've been hearing about from Mom for, oh, my entire life!
Nick's is a classic pre-WWII hamburger joint, much like the original White Castles or our own DC-area version Little Tavern, but with an interesting twist: the burgers are fried in a large, rectangular pan with four-inch raised sides with about a half-inch of grease in it. Almost but not quite deep-fried. Locals actually ask for their burgers with "more grease", and some even ask for the buns to be dipped in the grease! Much to my pleased relief, the burgers were quite tasty! I met Dick Fergen the owner (see his picture below), who remembered Mom immediately (she's been gone from Brookings for 57 years, but she was a real looker!) as well as my uncle Pat, who he went to high school with. He took over the place back in 2004, and has certainly poured a lot of love and work into the place. In the admittedly unlikely event that you ever find yourself in eastern South Dakota, I give Nick's a strong recommendation!
Before leaving Brookings, I let Pat know I was headed back down to Omaha, and I also sent a message via Facebook to Fran, who was the prettiest girl in my 7th grade class some 38 years earlier. We weren't actually close in junior high (puberty briefly robbed me of my ability to talk to girls, and like I said, she was REALLY pretty!), and midway through the 8th grade a desegregation redistricting sent me to a different school and I never saw her again. But her BFF Susie went to my school and I got to know Susie better a few years ago when we organized an ad-hoc 30 year reunion of our graduation class (the "Reunion Committee" had disintegrated), and when I joined Facebook last year and Susie became one of my FB friends, I saw Fran's name in her friends list and sent her a friend request, and much to my delight, we've become long-distance friends since then.
And Fran sent me back a reply to my "I'll be in Omaha" message with an invitation to dinner with her and her guy Blaine.
So, with that to look forward to, I pulled out of Brookings, right into a nasty little blizzard! Right away, I found myself in a traffic jam as we came upon a 5-car pileup just south of town (one vehicle upside down in the ditch!). After getting past that, I slowly made my way down through South Dakota, thankfully popping out of the storm at Sioux Falls, and I arrived in Omaha around 5pm. My GPS led me to Fran's house, and feeling a little bit like my junior high self, I knocked on the door.
...Which was opened by Blaine, as Fran was off buying beer for my visit! Blaine's a cool guy, quite friendly to a guy dropping out of his girlfriend's distant past (as I'm a short, chubby, bald guy, I can't imagine he felt very threatened!), a musician (well, a drummer, but...;-))who has a GOOD day job (he's a process engineer, involved in making those cool centrifugal testing rigs you see them spinning DNA on "CSI"), and he welcomed me into the house and introduced me to their two sweet dogs (a pair of bulldogs from a dog rescue operation they support). Fran arrived shortly, and we had a really great dinner (Fran cooked us steak, roasted potatoes and roasted asparagus) and a wonderful visit!
Fran was a delight, and in very short order we were like old, dear friends. As we caught up on each other's lives, we discovered an uncanny amount of similar experiences, and both agreed that if we hadn't been sent to different schools, we would have absolutely been great friends by the time we got to high school. It was wonderful sitting in the kitchen talking, and as the time passed, I started seeing flashes of her 12-year-old face!
Once again, the Internot made possible connections between people who otherwise would never be in contact.
After fond goodbyes and promises to visit again, I headed back to my uncle's place. I found a place to park about a block away (Pat and my aunt Sandy live in the VERY cool "Old Market" neighborhood of Omaha), and Pat met me at his door with a "how would you feel about having a beer with your uncle?" I replied that I couldn't imagine any possible response other than "GREAT!"
We walked over to The Upstream Brewing Company, a really excellent brewpub a few blocks away, and had a few beers and a pleasant conversation about what we were both up to. Pat recently retired a second time (he was president of a large architectural firm, then owned a very cool European bakery and cafe in the Old Market), and now he was spending his time helping artist Steve Joy with his work and with transporting and mounting his stuff at shows. Joy's studio was just around the corner, so Pat took me over and showed me some of his stuff. Fascinating!
After a good night's sleep, Sunday morning found me back behind the wheel. I had decided to go home, and figured I might as well go by Goshen first, to turn in my paperwork and see what kind of accommodation I would get on the fuel issue on my just-finished trip. So I drove across Iowa and Illinois and back to my uncle Tom's house in South Bend, where I again spent the night.
Monday morning early found me back at the terminal in Goshen, where much to my displeasure I found their "adjustment" sorely lacking. I averaged about .36/mile after paying for all that fuel, and their policy is apparently to make sure the drivers get a minimum of .40/mile, so I was paid the difference. Wow.
Even so, I then went to Dispatch, figuring I'd see if they had anything going east (might as well get paid to drive towards home, right?), and while I was standing there, I heard dispatcher Paul speaking into a phone saying "I have a load for Salisbury, Maryland". Well, that's about twenty five miles from my house, so I waited for him to get off the phone and asked him about it!
Alas, the load (that's what they call the trucks/buses/RVs we transport) wasn't in Goshen, it was in Laredo, Texas! Still, I was interested as I knew they paid a higher rate for those loads, and indeed, Paul indicated that it paid over .70/mile. Sold! I arranged to take it, and left immediately to drive down to Laredo (1500 miles away!).
The drive was uneventful. I headed back over towards Chicago, and then south on I-57 to I-55 to West Memphis, then west a little ways, stopping for the night in Forrest City, Arkansas. The next morning, I headed west on I-40 to Little Rock, then I-30 to Dallas, then south on I-35 to Austin, Texas (one of my favorite cities!). In Austin, I stayed with Elizabeth and Ben Hunter, who I met on an earier trip when I had Thanksgiving dinner with them and Ben's brother and sister-in-law Michael and Pam Hunter (Mike is yet another friend of mine from the Internot!).
Wednesday morning found me heading south towards the Rio Grande...
So I decided to head back down to Omaha and spend the weekend hanging out with my uncle Pat, who's my godfather and one of the coolest guys alive. By the time I came to that decision, it was dark and I realized that I wasn't going to make it all the way back down to Omaha in timely fashion, so I decided I'd head back down I-35 to Brookings, South Dakota, which was my Mom's (and Pat's) hometown.
First I had to get my car clean, though. Pulling it behind a bobtail semi (don't you love trucker jargon? That means cab with no trailer...) for 1700 miles meant every bit of road grime imaginable now covered the car. This car is actually dark blue:
The guys who took delivery of the truck offered me their pressure washer, and I got an amazing amount of the accumulated grime off, and then I drove into town and found a gas station with a car wash and cleaned it again. It needed it! It felt good to have my car looking somewhat more reputable.
Then I headed back out towards the Interstate. By now it was dark, and getting foggy to boot. As I headed south, I slowly came to the realization that this wasn't just fog, it was freezing fog, and my car was icing up! As was the road!!! Running my defrosters full blast took care of the windshield, and I slowed down a bit when I felt the road begin to get a little slick. I'm pretty sure I was the only one who bothered to, though, as cowboys in pickup trucks kept blowing past me going OVER the 75 mph speed limit. Maybe that's what keeps the population down out there...
Upon reaching the South Dakota line, I pulled off the highway at the huge glitzy Dakota Magic Casino (owned by the Dakota Sioux nation), having been told by the guys in Wahpeton that they had cheap hotel rooms there. WRONG! There was nothing cheap there. So I drove on to Brookings, where I found a high school chorus competition took all the cheap motel rooms. Exhausted, I bit the bullet and stayed in a very nice $95 room at the Holiday Inn and Suites. Ouch! I vaguely recall walking across the street to Applebees and eating dinner...
Saturday morning I slept in (hey, if I was going to spend a lot of money, I was going to ENJOY it!), and about 11 am I drove into Brookings to find it a quite nice town. It's home to South Dakota State University, and reminded me a little of my former home of Fort Collins, Colorado, another college town. Downtown, the main drag was much as my Mom described it, and after cruising the main drag, I pulled in at Nick's Hamburger Shop, a place I've been hearing about from Mom for, oh, my entire life!
Nick's is a classic pre-WWII hamburger joint, much like the original White Castles or our own DC-area version Little Tavern, but with an interesting twist: the burgers are fried in a large, rectangular pan with four-inch raised sides with about a half-inch of grease in it. Almost but not quite deep-fried. Locals actually ask for their burgers with "more grease", and some even ask for the buns to be dipped in the grease! Much to my pleased relief, the burgers were quite tasty! I met Dick Fergen the owner (see his picture below), who remembered Mom immediately (she's been gone from Brookings for 57 years, but she was a real looker!) as well as my uncle Pat, who he went to high school with. He took over the place back in 2004, and has certainly poured a lot of love and work into the place. In the admittedly unlikely event that you ever find yourself in eastern South Dakota, I give Nick's a strong recommendation!
Before leaving Brookings, I let Pat know I was headed back down to Omaha, and I also sent a message via Facebook to Fran, who was the prettiest girl in my 7th grade class some 38 years earlier. We weren't actually close in junior high (puberty briefly robbed me of my ability to talk to girls, and like I said, she was REALLY pretty!), and midway through the 8th grade a desegregation redistricting sent me to a different school and I never saw her again. But her BFF Susie went to my school and I got to know Susie better a few years ago when we organized an ad-hoc 30 year reunion of our graduation class (the "Reunion Committee" had disintegrated), and when I joined Facebook last year and Susie became one of my FB friends, I saw Fran's name in her friends list and sent her a friend request, and much to my delight, we've become long-distance friends since then.
And Fran sent me back a reply to my "I'll be in Omaha" message with an invitation to dinner with her and her guy Blaine.
So, with that to look forward to, I pulled out of Brookings, right into a nasty little blizzard! Right away, I found myself in a traffic jam as we came upon a 5-car pileup just south of town (one vehicle upside down in the ditch!). After getting past that, I slowly made my way down through South Dakota, thankfully popping out of the storm at Sioux Falls, and I arrived in Omaha around 5pm. My GPS led me to Fran's house, and feeling a little bit like my junior high self, I knocked on the door.
...Which was opened by Blaine, as Fran was off buying beer for my visit! Blaine's a cool guy, quite friendly to a guy dropping out of his girlfriend's distant past (as I'm a short, chubby, bald guy, I can't imagine he felt very threatened!), a musician (well, a drummer, but...;-))who has a GOOD day job (he's a process engineer, involved in making those cool centrifugal testing rigs you see them spinning DNA on "CSI"), and he welcomed me into the house and introduced me to their two sweet dogs (a pair of bulldogs from a dog rescue operation they support). Fran arrived shortly, and we had a really great dinner (Fran cooked us steak, roasted potatoes and roasted asparagus) and a wonderful visit!
Fran was a delight, and in very short order we were like old, dear friends. As we caught up on each other's lives, we discovered an uncanny amount of similar experiences, and both agreed that if we hadn't been sent to different schools, we would have absolutely been great friends by the time we got to high school. It was wonderful sitting in the kitchen talking, and as the time passed, I started seeing flashes of her 12-year-old face!
Once again, the Internot made possible connections between people who otherwise would never be in contact.
After fond goodbyes and promises to visit again, I headed back to my uncle's place. I found a place to park about a block away (Pat and my aunt Sandy live in the VERY cool "Old Market" neighborhood of Omaha), and Pat met me at his door with a "how would you feel about having a beer with your uncle?" I replied that I couldn't imagine any possible response other than "GREAT!"
We walked over to The Upstream Brewing Company, a really excellent brewpub a few blocks away, and had a few beers and a pleasant conversation about what we were both up to. Pat recently retired a second time (he was president of a large architectural firm, then owned a very cool European bakery and cafe in the Old Market), and now he was spending his time helping artist Steve Joy with his work and with transporting and mounting his stuff at shows. Joy's studio was just around the corner, so Pat took me over and showed me some of his stuff. Fascinating!
After a good night's sleep, Sunday morning found me back behind the wheel. I had decided to go home, and figured I might as well go by Goshen first, to turn in my paperwork and see what kind of accommodation I would get on the fuel issue on my just-finished trip. So I drove across Iowa and Illinois and back to my uncle Tom's house in South Bend, where I again spent the night.
Monday morning early found me back at the terminal in Goshen, where much to my displeasure I found their "adjustment" sorely lacking. I averaged about .36/mile after paying for all that fuel, and their policy is apparently to make sure the drivers get a minimum of .40/mile, so I was paid the difference. Wow.
Even so, I then went to Dispatch, figuring I'd see if they had anything going east (might as well get paid to drive towards home, right?), and while I was standing there, I heard dispatcher Paul speaking into a phone saying "I have a load for Salisbury, Maryland". Well, that's about twenty five miles from my house, so I waited for him to get off the phone and asked him about it!
Alas, the load (that's what they call the trucks/buses/RVs we transport) wasn't in Goshen, it was in Laredo, Texas! Still, I was interested as I knew they paid a higher rate for those loads, and indeed, Paul indicated that it paid over .70/mile. Sold! I arranged to take it, and left immediately to drive down to Laredo (1500 miles away!).
The drive was uneventful. I headed back over towards Chicago, and then south on I-57 to I-55 to West Memphis, then west a little ways, stopping for the night in Forrest City, Arkansas. The next morning, I headed west on I-40 to Little Rock, then I-30 to Dallas, then south on I-35 to Austin, Texas (one of my favorite cities!). In Austin, I stayed with Elizabeth and Ben Hunter, who I met on an earier trip when I had Thanksgiving dinner with them and Ben's brother and sister-in-law Michael and Pam Hunter (Mike is yet another friend of mine from the Internot!).
Wednesday morning found me heading south towards the Rio Grande...
Sunday, March 07, 2010
War and Peace, chapter 3
After dropping off the truck in Charleston, I called back in to dispatch, reported that truck delivered, and inquired about available loads. I was told that there might be something in Atlanta, but I'd have to drive back up there and only then find out... or if I was interested, they had a truck in Greensboro, North Carolina that needed to go to North Dakota.
Figuring that seemed like a lot of miles, and hence profitable (more on that much later), I took it, and drove up from Charleston to Greensboro, just in time to pick up the truck, another Freightliner semi, this one a day cab (meaning no sleeper, darn it!).
This time, I was EXTREMELY fortunate that I met Bob, a longtime veteran of the business, who helped me wire up the lights (he found me an adaptor so I could plug right into the truck, along with a whole bunch of extra wire, some extra chain to make my safety chains actually functional/legal, and a whole bunch of very good advice). Bob was a gem!
It was 5pm by the time I got out of there, so after first putting some fuel in the truck (it was practically bone dry), I hit the nearest Motel 6 and got a good night's sleep.
Next morning, I headed west on I-40 into the hilly then mountainous west North Carolina, and at Asheville was quite annoyed to find that I-40 was closed due to a landslide up in the mountains at the Tennessee state line! The recommended detour required about 60 extra miles, going up I-26 to I-81 and back down to I-40, but I noticed that US 70 (the old highway that I-40 supplanted) looked like a much shorter route, so I decided to go that way.
I suspect I don't have to tell you that was a mistake! Twisting, winding, steep, two-lane blacktop, heavy traffic, 35 mph most of the way (lots of fun with my non-advanced gearshifting skills!) . Oh, and two different bridges over the French Broad River (what a name!) that dated from the 1940s and were so narrow that I found myself praying for a break in oncoming traffic, because my truck was wider than my lane!
And, of course, at those speeds, I probably would've gotten back to I-40 faster taking the longer detour on the other Interstates! Sigh...
Eventually, I got back to I-40 and continued on my way, and as I drove on west, I noticed that my fuel gauge was dropping towards E much faster than anticipated. I pulled into a truck stop to get more fuel, and did some calculating and realized that I was getting around 5 mpg, instead of the 9+ that Bob told me to expect!
This worried me, but I thought perhaps the US-70 detour had caused me to use up more fuel. I drove on past Nashville, and back up into Kentucky towards Paducah, where I spent the night. The following morning, I fueled again (I should mention that on this trip, I never did FILL the tanks, preferring to put around $150 in at a time), and after sticking the tanks with a dipstick (which gives a more precise measure of fuel than the fuel gauge), did the math again. Damn. 5 mpg STILL! I thought perhaps going 70 mph was hurting the mileage, so I decided to slow down to under 65 mph.
So I got back out on the road, aimed for Omaha, Nebraska (where my uncle Pat lives). The route I was taking was slightly longer than the straight route through Chicago, but there was a lot of snow on the straight route. I drove on, passing St. Louis and Kansas City, and evening found me parking the truck in a truck stop in Council Bluffs, Iowa and going over to Omaha for a hot meal and a cold beer with my uncle.
The next morning, after going back to the truck, I sticked the tanks again and found there was no improvement in fuel economy, and I wouldn't have enough money left for fuel to drive the last 385 miles to Wahpeton, ND (my destination in the SE corner of ND). I called in to dispatch, and they told me they'd put some of MY money into my Comdata Card to cover the additional fuel (I should mention that they calculate my mileage and fuel money for the trip, and put half up front for the trip, reserving half to pay me after the trip was complete), and that after the trip was over, I was to get them all the fuel receipts and they'd "work with me" on the total money for the trip.
I didn't really like the sound of that, but figured I didn't really want to just park the truck and leave it, so I fueled up and drove on up to North Dakota. It being Friday, I called back in to dispatch to see if they had anything nearby for me to drive that weekend, and it turned out there was a truck in Ham Lake, Minnesota that was bound for Hastings, Nebraska that I could take on Saturday. I accepted the assignment, and was told to get a fax number so they could fax me the paperwork. I called Dave, the guy who was getting the truck bound for ND, and he said he'd be glad to take a fax for me, so I called back to dispatch with the fax number.
And couldn't get a human on the phone! After a few tries, I went ahead and left a voicemail message with the fax number. An hour or so later (after the home office was closed), I arrived in Wahpeton and delivered the truck and found no fax waiting for me. Sigh...
Figuring that seemed like a lot of miles, and hence profitable (more on that much later), I took it, and drove up from Charleston to Greensboro, just in time to pick up the truck, another Freightliner semi, this one a day cab (meaning no sleeper, darn it!).
This time, I was EXTREMELY fortunate that I met Bob, a longtime veteran of the business, who helped me wire up the lights (he found me an adaptor so I could plug right into the truck, along with a whole bunch of extra wire, some extra chain to make my safety chains actually functional/legal, and a whole bunch of very good advice). Bob was a gem!
It was 5pm by the time I got out of there, so after first putting some fuel in the truck (it was practically bone dry), I hit the nearest Motel 6 and got a good night's sleep.
Next morning, I headed west on I-40 into the hilly then mountainous west North Carolina, and at Asheville was quite annoyed to find that I-40 was closed due to a landslide up in the mountains at the Tennessee state line! The recommended detour required about 60 extra miles, going up I-26 to I-81 and back down to I-40, but I noticed that US 70 (the old highway that I-40 supplanted) looked like a much shorter route, so I decided to go that way.
I suspect I don't have to tell you that was a mistake! Twisting, winding, steep, two-lane blacktop, heavy traffic, 35 mph most of the way (lots of fun with my non-advanced gearshifting skills!) . Oh, and two different bridges over the French Broad River (what a name!) that dated from the 1940s and were so narrow that I found myself praying for a break in oncoming traffic, because my truck was wider than my lane!
And, of course, at those speeds, I probably would've gotten back to I-40 faster taking the longer detour on the other Interstates! Sigh...
Eventually, I got back to I-40 and continued on my way, and as I drove on west, I noticed that my fuel gauge was dropping towards E much faster than anticipated. I pulled into a truck stop to get more fuel, and did some calculating and realized that I was getting around 5 mpg, instead of the 9+ that Bob told me to expect!
This worried me, but I thought perhaps the US-70 detour had caused me to use up more fuel. I drove on past Nashville, and back up into Kentucky towards Paducah, where I spent the night. The following morning, I fueled again (I should mention that on this trip, I never did FILL the tanks, preferring to put around $150 in at a time), and after sticking the tanks with a dipstick (which gives a more precise measure of fuel than the fuel gauge), did the math again. Damn. 5 mpg STILL! I thought perhaps going 70 mph was hurting the mileage, so I decided to slow down to under 65 mph.
So I got back out on the road, aimed for Omaha, Nebraska (where my uncle Pat lives). The route I was taking was slightly longer than the straight route through Chicago, but there was a lot of snow on the straight route. I drove on, passing St. Louis and Kansas City, and evening found me parking the truck in a truck stop in Council Bluffs, Iowa and going over to Omaha for a hot meal and a cold beer with my uncle.
The next morning, after going back to the truck, I sticked the tanks again and found there was no improvement in fuel economy, and I wouldn't have enough money left for fuel to drive the last 385 miles to Wahpeton, ND (my destination in the SE corner of ND). I called in to dispatch, and they told me they'd put some of MY money into my Comdata Card to cover the additional fuel (I should mention that they calculate my mileage and fuel money for the trip, and put half up front for the trip, reserving half to pay me after the trip was complete), and that after the trip was over, I was to get them all the fuel receipts and they'd "work with me" on the total money for the trip.
I didn't really like the sound of that, but figured I didn't really want to just park the truck and leave it, so I fueled up and drove on up to North Dakota. It being Friday, I called back in to dispatch to see if they had anything nearby for me to drive that weekend, and it turned out there was a truck in Ham Lake, Minnesota that was bound for Hastings, Nebraska that I could take on Saturday. I accepted the assignment, and was told to get a fax number so they could fax me the paperwork. I called Dave, the guy who was getting the truck bound for ND, and he said he'd be glad to take a fax for me, so I called back to dispatch with the fax number.
And couldn't get a human on the phone! After a few tries, I went ahead and left a voicemail message with the fax number. An hour or so later (after the home office was closed), I arrived in Wahpeton and delivered the truck and found no fax waiting for me. Sigh...
War and Peace, intermission
This will be a short break from our story to fill in a few details of interest.
1. My tow car is, as mentioned, a 1992 Volvo 240 wagon with an automatic transmission. I was planning on removing the driveshaft for towing (as said transmission will overheat if you tow the car any significant distance, resulting in ruination of said transmission, and possibly fire!). However, while I was at the Mennonite welding shop, a fellow driveaway driver came in for some work, and when I told him of my plan, he told me he just tows his car with the engine running! This seemed wasteful to me, but he assured me that he barely used ten gallons of gasoline on a 1000 mile run. So I tried it, and yep, worked a charm.
Of course, the first trip was kinda nerve-wracking, as I had no idea if the car was running or not, but thanks to the ever-dependable Volvo motor, I eventually quit worrying because every time I checked, it was running like a champ!
2. Apple iPhone is an amazing device that served me well and preserved my sanity! I have a 3G iPhone, and after that first trip to Richmond I got myself a suction cup window bracket for it, and using the Motion X GPS Drive app, it became a really excellent GPS unit for me. I have a car charger/FM transmitter for it too, so I had good music via either the iPod function or the Pandora or WunderRadio internet radio apps. I also was able to check in on Facebook and on the TDPRI (Telecaster Discussion Page, re-issue, a music-related bulletin board that I help moderate).
This meant I was in contact with folks pretty much whenever I wanted/needed some human contact. I'd take a break from driving, and spend a little time catching up with folks. I'm a much more gregarious guy than I realized, and being alone with no human contact really gets to me after a few hours!
I'd also note that, contrary to the Verizon ads on TV, I was able to get a usable signal for both phone and data almost everywhere I went.
Oh, another iPhone app that really came in useful: the Priceline Negotiator. Find a motel quick! Even better, it has Bill Shatner being outrageous on it...
1. My tow car is, as mentioned, a 1992 Volvo 240 wagon with an automatic transmission. I was planning on removing the driveshaft for towing (as said transmission will overheat if you tow the car any significant distance, resulting in ruination of said transmission, and possibly fire!). However, while I was at the Mennonite welding shop, a fellow driveaway driver came in for some work, and when I told him of my plan, he told me he just tows his car with the engine running! This seemed wasteful to me, but he assured me that he barely used ten gallons of gasoline on a 1000 mile run. So I tried it, and yep, worked a charm.
Of course, the first trip was kinda nerve-wracking, as I had no idea if the car was running or not, but thanks to the ever-dependable Volvo motor, I eventually quit worrying because every time I checked, it was running like a champ!
2. Apple iPhone is an amazing device that served me well and preserved my sanity! I have a 3G iPhone, and after that first trip to Richmond I got myself a suction cup window bracket for it, and using the Motion X GPS Drive app, it became a really excellent GPS unit for me. I have a car charger/FM transmitter for it too, so I had good music via either the iPod function or the Pandora or WunderRadio internet radio apps. I also was able to check in on Facebook and on the TDPRI (Telecaster Discussion Page, re-issue, a music-related bulletin board that I help moderate).
This meant I was in contact with folks pretty much whenever I wanted/needed some human contact. I'd take a break from driving, and spend a little time catching up with folks. I'm a much more gregarious guy than I realized, and being alone with no human contact really gets to me after a few hours!
I'd also note that, contrary to the Verizon ads on TV, I was able to get a usable signal for both phone and data almost everywhere I went.
Oh, another iPhone app that really came in useful: the Priceline Negotiator. Find a motel quick! Even better, it has Bill Shatner being outrageous on it...
War and Peace, chapter 2
Bright and early the following Monday morning (too early, really, I only got four hours of sleep!), with visions of glowing young women in my head, I got up and headed back to the drop off point and formally delivered the truck to the new owners. I then drove my car back to a nearby Panera Bread restaurant, where I had a bagel and cup of coffee, and called in to headquarters to report the truck delivered and to see if they had anything for me.
I was instructed to call our Georgia office, and on doing so was offered a truck in Atlanta to be delivered to Charleston, SC. As it was the only thing nearby, I took it, and drove over to the address supplied (which was about fifteen miles away). On arrival, I found I was going to be driving my first semi tractor, a big red Freightliner with a sleeper cab. Hooking up the lights was interesting, as this truck (and, as I learned, most if not all semis) had sealed tailights that wouldn't take my taplights.
So I spliced the wires to my wiring rig, and after a bit of effort was good to go. Here's the truck with my car behind:
This was the first truck I drove with a low/high range 10-speed manual transmission. Yikes! The way that works is that it's got a five-speed shifter (plus reverse, of course) and a low/high-range switch. If you've ever ridden a 10-speed bicycle, it's the same idea. These transmissions aren't synchronized like car manual transmissions, either, so shifting is more of a matter of matching up the engine speed to the transmission speed, or else you grind gears and miss shifts, etc. Embarrassing! I found accelerating to be no serious problem, but with this truck and the next several with the same transmission, I found downshifting EXTREMELY difficult!
Anyway, by the time I was ready to leave, it was obvious to me that I wasn't going to get to Charleston before 5pm (when the delivery location closed), so I called my contact and told him I wouldn't be in town before 8pm and suggested perhaps I should make the delivery in the morning when they reopened. He was very happy with that suggestion, as he lived a half-hour away and didn't really want to come back into work that evening. That suited me just fine as well, because it meant I could sleep in the sleeper cab instead of paying for a motel room!
So I got out on the Interstate, headed for South Carolina, and as the miles accumulated, I started realizing that four hours sleep wasn't working too well for me. Fortunately about that time I reached a rest area, so I pulled in and took a nice long refreshing nap!
The rest of the trip down to Charleston was uneventful, fortunately, and I got into the area around 9pm, found a truck stop and parked for the night, grabbed a burger and then went back and unrolled my sleeping bag in the sleeper cab. It was really quite nice and I slept really well all night, getting up early enough to drive the truck to the delivery point and dropping it off with no issues.
I was instructed to call our Georgia office, and on doing so was offered a truck in Atlanta to be delivered to Charleston, SC. As it was the only thing nearby, I took it, and drove over to the address supplied (which was about fifteen miles away). On arrival, I found I was going to be driving my first semi tractor, a big red Freightliner with a sleeper cab. Hooking up the lights was interesting, as this truck (and, as I learned, most if not all semis) had sealed tailights that wouldn't take my taplights.
So I spliced the wires to my wiring rig, and after a bit of effort was good to go. Here's the truck with my car behind:
This was the first truck I drove with a low/high range 10-speed manual transmission. Yikes! The way that works is that it's got a five-speed shifter (plus reverse, of course) and a low/high-range switch. If you've ever ridden a 10-speed bicycle, it's the same idea. These transmissions aren't synchronized like car manual transmissions, either, so shifting is more of a matter of matching up the engine speed to the transmission speed, or else you grind gears and miss shifts, etc. Embarrassing! I found accelerating to be no serious problem, but with this truck and the next several with the same transmission, I found downshifting EXTREMELY difficult!
Anyway, by the time I was ready to leave, it was obvious to me that I wasn't going to get to Charleston before 5pm (when the delivery location closed), so I called my contact and told him I wouldn't be in town before 8pm and suggested perhaps I should make the delivery in the morning when they reopened. He was very happy with that suggestion, as he lived a half-hour away and didn't really want to come back into work that evening. That suited me just fine as well, because it meant I could sleep in the sleeper cab instead of paying for a motel room!
So I got out on the Interstate, headed for South Carolina, and as the miles accumulated, I started realizing that four hours sleep wasn't working too well for me. Fortunately about that time I reached a rest area, so I pulled in and took a nice long refreshing nap!
The rest of the trip down to Charleston was uneventful, fortunately, and I got into the area around 9pm, found a truck stop and parked for the night, grabbed a burger and then went back and unrolled my sleeping bag in the sleeper cab. It was really quite nice and I slept really well all night, getting up early enough to drive the truck to the delivery point and dropping it off with no issues.
Monday, February 22, 2010
War and Peace
Sorry to leave y'all hanging so long, just got back after two and a half weeks on the road, driving right around 8,000 miles in 17 states, and frankly, I'm a little bit fried! I'm going to write separate posts for each of the vehicles I drove, to break the story up into digestible pieces...
To take up the story from where we left off, on Thursday, February 4th I drove from Maryland out to South Bend, Indiana, where I once again stayed with my Uncle Tom (he's given me the key to his house!). Friday morning, bright and early, I drove the thirty miles over to the depot in Goshen, where I was directed to Martin Welding, which turned out to be located way out in the Indiana countryside at a Mennonite farm. The guys who did the work were all German-speaking Mennonites, and it was fascinating to me that they did this kind of work (and took Mastercard!).
The welding to convert my car into a tow car took from 10am til around 4pm, and I got back to the terminal just in time to get dispatched to drive a truck from Indiana to Atlanta, Georgia. I got the rest of the tow equipment, including the device that clamps onto the frame of the truck that has the receiver that holds the gooseneck with the ball hitch. I went out into the lot and found my truck, a very large International box truck with a lift gate on the back. I did my pre-trip inspection, and then drove the truck around to where my car was waiting to be hitched.
I should note at this point that it was starting to get dark, and was about 15 degrees F with a bit of lake-effect snow falling. My employers provide a kind of a drive-through garage, but even so, it's not a particularly warm, comfortable place to work.
I then started to try to figure out how to hook the gear to the truck. The first problem: where the heck do I attach this thing to the frame? The lift gate meant that I had to clamp it to the frame considerably forward of the usual spot (at the back of the truck), and to get it there, I had to get under the truck and lift it up from underneath. I quickly discovered that I had to attach the gooseneck attachments first (there was no room to do so once the thing was up on the frame).
At this point, I ran into the first roadblock: the pins that attach the gooseneck attachments to the clamp device were missing. And, being as how it was now well after 5pm, there was no one in the office to supply the needed pins. So I drove over to WalMart and bought a couple.
So, returning to the truck, I crawled back under, and frankly, after putting all that together, it was all I could to to lift it up, much less attach it properly. I had to take a breather, and then approach it like an Olympic powerlifter, and I'm glad to report that I was able to lift it up and into place without crying like a little baby. I might have sobbed once or twice, but hey, it was cold!
Then I was confronted with a new problem: how to hook up the lights. The welders had also wired my car's lights to a plug that was supposed to let me hook them up to the truck's lights. But of course, there was no obvious place to plug in anywhere that I could find. And trust me, I looked! At this point, I was extremely lucky that another driver happened by and told me that, for that particular truck, I needed to get some special light bulbs that they make for that purpose, that replace the 1157 bulbs in the truck and provide wires that I could attach to the plug. Said bulbs were available, he added, at the local NAPA auto parts store. So I again got in my car and went out shopping.
Finally, I was good to go, and it was 8:30pm! And snowing. I slowly drove back to Tom's house in South Bend, utterly spent.
Bright and early Saturday morning, I headed over to the local Panera for a bagel and some coffee, and took this picture:
Here's a closeup of the trailer hitch setup:
I was fortunate, pretty much for the whole trip, to miss the worst of the snowstorms pummeling home, and this day's travel was part of that, a huge storm that was then hitting the East had the previous day passed to the south of Goshen, dumping pretty good on Indianapolis. By the time I was passing there, the highways were clear, thank goodness! My drive south was uneventful, and I made it almost to Tennessee, stopping for the night in a motel in Franklin, Kentucky. Sunday morning, I got up and headed down through Nashville and Chattanooga and on down into Georgia to Atlanta. I had called the folks at my destination to see if I could drop the truck off Sunday night and come back Monday morning to complete the paperwork, and they were fine with that, so I dropped the truck off, disconnected my car, and headed over to my friend Stephen's house in Woodstock, Georgia (an Atlanta suburb about a half hour from my dropoff point).
Stephen is a musician who I know from our association on the Telecaster Discussion Page online, and we had never actually met in person, but he turned out to be much as I imagined him, a great guy and a damned good guitar player, and we went down to this great blues dive in Atlanta, The Northside Tavern, where his band, Uncle Sugar, was throwing down after the Super Bowl was over. I got to sit at the bar and watch the Saints pull out their victory while the band set up, and then listen to three GREAT sets of what can only be called Atlanta soul, a mix of blues and country and folk and whatever.
I enjoyed it immensely, even more so after a stunningly lovely young lady, Erica, came in and sat down next to me at the bar. I'm ordinarily a pretty bashful fellow, but she just glowed (and, as she was wearing a Colts shirt and was visibly annoyed that her team had lost the Super Bowl, easy to engage in teasing conversation!). Alas, I was 30 miles from my car (and had to be at the truck dealer at 8am), so I didn't have a chance to get to know her as well as I'd have liked to (or gotten gloriously shot down). I still sigh, thinking about how she just shined...
To take up the story from where we left off, on Thursday, February 4th I drove from Maryland out to South Bend, Indiana, where I once again stayed with my Uncle Tom (he's given me the key to his house!). Friday morning, bright and early, I drove the thirty miles over to the depot in Goshen, where I was directed to Martin Welding, which turned out to be located way out in the Indiana countryside at a Mennonite farm. The guys who did the work were all German-speaking Mennonites, and it was fascinating to me that they did this kind of work (and took Mastercard!).
The welding to convert my car into a tow car took from 10am til around 4pm, and I got back to the terminal just in time to get dispatched to drive a truck from Indiana to Atlanta, Georgia. I got the rest of the tow equipment, including the device that clamps onto the frame of the truck that has the receiver that holds the gooseneck with the ball hitch. I went out into the lot and found my truck, a very large International box truck with a lift gate on the back. I did my pre-trip inspection, and then drove the truck around to where my car was waiting to be hitched.
I should note at this point that it was starting to get dark, and was about 15 degrees F with a bit of lake-effect snow falling. My employers provide a kind of a drive-through garage, but even so, it's not a particularly warm, comfortable place to work.
I then started to try to figure out how to hook the gear to the truck. The first problem: where the heck do I attach this thing to the frame? The lift gate meant that I had to clamp it to the frame considerably forward of the usual spot (at the back of the truck), and to get it there, I had to get under the truck and lift it up from underneath. I quickly discovered that I had to attach the gooseneck attachments first (there was no room to do so once the thing was up on the frame).
At this point, I ran into the first roadblock: the pins that attach the gooseneck attachments to the clamp device were missing. And, being as how it was now well after 5pm, there was no one in the office to supply the needed pins. So I drove over to WalMart and bought a couple.
So, returning to the truck, I crawled back under, and frankly, after putting all that together, it was all I could to to lift it up, much less attach it properly. I had to take a breather, and then approach it like an Olympic powerlifter, and I'm glad to report that I was able to lift it up and into place without crying like a little baby. I might have sobbed once or twice, but hey, it was cold!
Then I was confronted with a new problem: how to hook up the lights. The welders had also wired my car's lights to a plug that was supposed to let me hook them up to the truck's lights. But of course, there was no obvious place to plug in anywhere that I could find. And trust me, I looked! At this point, I was extremely lucky that another driver happened by and told me that, for that particular truck, I needed to get some special light bulbs that they make for that purpose, that replace the 1157 bulbs in the truck and provide wires that I could attach to the plug. Said bulbs were available, he added, at the local NAPA auto parts store. So I again got in my car and went out shopping.
Finally, I was good to go, and it was 8:30pm! And snowing. I slowly drove back to Tom's house in South Bend, utterly spent.
Bright and early Saturday morning, I headed over to the local Panera for a bagel and some coffee, and took this picture:
Here's a closeup of the trailer hitch setup:
I was fortunate, pretty much for the whole trip, to miss the worst of the snowstorms pummeling home, and this day's travel was part of that, a huge storm that was then hitting the East had the previous day passed to the south of Goshen, dumping pretty good on Indianapolis. By the time I was passing there, the highways were clear, thank goodness! My drive south was uneventful, and I made it almost to Tennessee, stopping for the night in a motel in Franklin, Kentucky. Sunday morning, I got up and headed down through Nashville and Chattanooga and on down into Georgia to Atlanta. I had called the folks at my destination to see if I could drop the truck off Sunday night and come back Monday morning to complete the paperwork, and they were fine with that, so I dropped the truck off, disconnected my car, and headed over to my friend Stephen's house in Woodstock, Georgia (an Atlanta suburb about a half hour from my dropoff point).
Stephen is a musician who I know from our association on the Telecaster Discussion Page online, and we had never actually met in person, but he turned out to be much as I imagined him, a great guy and a damned good guitar player, and we went down to this great blues dive in Atlanta, The Northside Tavern, where his band, Uncle Sugar, was throwing down after the Super Bowl was over. I got to sit at the bar and watch the Saints pull out their victory while the band set up, and then listen to three GREAT sets of what can only be called Atlanta soul, a mix of blues and country and folk and whatever.
I enjoyed it immensely, even more so after a stunningly lovely young lady, Erica, came in and sat down next to me at the bar. I'm ordinarily a pretty bashful fellow, but she just glowed (and, as she was wearing a Colts shirt and was visibly annoyed that her team had lost the Super Bowl, easy to engage in teasing conversation!). Alas, I was 30 miles from my car (and had to be at the truck dealer at 8am), so I didn't have a chance to get to know her as well as I'd have liked to (or gotten gloriously shot down). I still sigh, thinking about how she just shined...
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Feet wet, lessons learned!
I pulled the plug on Richmond on Sunday, after I did the math and realized that the money for driving the vehicle on Monday wasn't going to go very far when further lodging and personal transportation were factored in. It just doesn't make a lot of sense to just break even or lose money!
Also, I got an email from a fellow driveaway driver who recommended that I just have my beloved Volvo set up as a tow car. He pointed out that the removal of four bolts would disconnect my driveshaft from the differential, which means I wouldn't destroy my transmission when I tow the car. Secure the driveshaft to the frame (so it doesn't drag!) and when I get to my destination, just bolt it back on. I can handle that!
So I decided to cut my losses in Richmond and take the Greyhound back home. Bought my ticket online Sunday morning, and checked out of the Days Inn. I had the very nice innkeeper call a taxi cab for me, and about noon, it arrived and I left for the bus station.
...with a pretty large amount of doubt that I'd make it there! Seems the cabbie was utterly terrified by snow! It didn't matter that the roads were mostly clear, he creeped down the Interstate at about 40 mph, trucks and cars blowing past us all the way. He hadn't knocked the ice off of his windshield wipers, either, or had any windshield wash fluid, so we were looking through an extremely fuzzy windshield!
Still, apparently God was my co-pilot (or my karma was good, or whatever), because we managed to get to the bus station without serious incident.
Only to discover that the bus to Norfolk, Virginia that I was supposed to take (making connection with the bus from there up to Salisbury) was canceled. In fact, ALL buses were canceled except the ones heading north to DC, Baltimore and NYC. So I had to take the bus to DC, change to one to Baltimore, and then take the Baltimore to Salisbury bus. Which, of course, had already left, so I'd have to spend the night in Baltimore.
Fortunately, I have sisters near Baltimore, and my sis Teri came and rescued me, took me home, fed me, gave me beer, and put me in the guest room. Family rocks!
The next morning, she drove me back down to the bus station, and I waited around until the first Salisbury bus left at 11:30am (with me in it). Got into Salisbury at about 2:30pm, where my friend Dan picked me up and took me to my car, parked at Holloway Tours (my previous employer and a handy place to park close to the airport). I got my car and headed home, and frankly I was so tired that I can't remember much more about the evening!
It's the next day now, and I'm making arrangements to head back out to Indiana in my car, where I'll have it set up for towing (I priced doing that here, and the price was DOUBLE compared to out there!), and then, once ready for action, I'll be back out on the road!
Also, I got an email from a fellow driveaway driver who recommended that I just have my beloved Volvo set up as a tow car. He pointed out that the removal of four bolts would disconnect my driveshaft from the differential, which means I wouldn't destroy my transmission when I tow the car. Secure the driveshaft to the frame (so it doesn't drag!) and when I get to my destination, just bolt it back on. I can handle that!
So I decided to cut my losses in Richmond and take the Greyhound back home. Bought my ticket online Sunday morning, and checked out of the Days Inn. I had the very nice innkeeper call a taxi cab for me, and about noon, it arrived and I left for the bus station.
...with a pretty large amount of doubt that I'd make it there! Seems the cabbie was utterly terrified by snow! It didn't matter that the roads were mostly clear, he creeped down the Interstate at about 40 mph, trucks and cars blowing past us all the way. He hadn't knocked the ice off of his windshield wipers, either, or had any windshield wash fluid, so we were looking through an extremely fuzzy windshield!
Still, apparently God was my co-pilot (or my karma was good, or whatever), because we managed to get to the bus station without serious incident.
Only to discover that the bus to Norfolk, Virginia that I was supposed to take (making connection with the bus from there up to Salisbury) was canceled. In fact, ALL buses were canceled except the ones heading north to DC, Baltimore and NYC. So I had to take the bus to DC, change to one to Baltimore, and then take the Baltimore to Salisbury bus. Which, of course, had already left, so I'd have to spend the night in Baltimore.
Fortunately, I have sisters near Baltimore, and my sis Teri came and rescued me, took me home, fed me, gave me beer, and put me in the guest room. Family rocks!
The next morning, she drove me back down to the bus station, and I waited around until the first Salisbury bus left at 11:30am (with me in it). Got into Salisbury at about 2:30pm, where my friend Dan picked me up and took me to my car, parked at Holloway Tours (my previous employer and a handy place to park close to the airport). I got my car and headed home, and frankly I was so tired that I can't remember much more about the evening!
It's the next day now, and I'm making arrangements to head back out to Indiana in my car, where I'll have it set up for towing (I priced doing that here, and the price was DOUBLE compared to out there!), and then, once ready for action, I'll be back out on the road!
Saturday, January 30, 2010
The Siege of Richmond
Just finished delivering this brand new ambulance to Chester, Virginia (suburb of Richmond). It was my first trip as a driveaway driver.
It was a lot of travel! On Wednesday I flew from Salisbury, Maryland to South Bend, Indiana (via Philly and Chicago), where I stayed overnight at my Uncle Tom Doyle's house. The following morning, Tom took me downtown and dropped me off at the Transpo station (local bus service). Three buses and 2 1/2 hours later, I arrived at the Walmart in Goshen, Indiana, just a mile or so short of the Quality Drive-Away terminal.
Can you say "bitterly cold" or perhaps "lake effect snow"?
After picking up a winter knit cap and scarf at Walmart (forgot the ones at home!), I started trudging towards the terminal. Not a lot of fun, but I got into a rhythm, and then about three quarters of the way there, a fellow Quality employee pulled over and offered me a lift.
Anyway, by the time I checked in and got my assignment, it was about 1:30pm. I went out and fired up the diesel engine (it sure does help in really cold weather to have a brand new engine, brand new battery, and the fuel treated with anti-gel!), and was on the road by 2pm... headed in the wrong direction, because I had to backtrack to South Bend to get my big suitcase from Tom's house!
Google Maps told me that the distance to Chester, Virginia was around 750 miles and about 12.5 hours of driving, so I knew that I wasn't going to be going all the way there without stopping. Looking at the map, it looked like I could make it to Frederick, Maryland, where my good friend Kathleen lives, by about midnight, so I gave her a call and confirmed that her spare bedroom was free. It sure is good having friends with spare bedrooms!
With that arranged, I hit the road, taking the Indiana Toll Road and the Ohio and Pennsylvania Turnpikes. Not a lot to report about that, other than the lake effect snow was pretty constant until about halfway across Ohio. I would add that the Ohio Turnpike has to be one of the most endless, boring roads in existence!
It became pretty clear to me at about 8pm that I wasn't going to make it to Frederick before about 2am, so I called Kathleen and let her know I was going to stop sooner. At that point, I was still thinking I'd go as far as Breezewood, which is where I-70 leaves the PA Turnpike and ducks down towards Maryland. But by about 10:30pm I decided that I was getting too tired to stay on the road, so I pulled off the Turnpike north of Pittsburgh and got myself a room.
Bright and not really early (as I legally had to be off the road for ten hours!) I pulled back out onto the Turnpike and continued on my way, lunching at Breezewood (an old family tradition from childhood trips to the Midwest) and getting down to make the delivery in Chester (just south of Richmond) at about 4pm.
Now, the thing about driveaway is that after you deliver the vehicle, you're on your own! Many if not most driveaway drivers use a tow car ("toad" in driveaway lingo), attaching it with a rig that clamps onto the frame of the driveaway vehicle and pulling it behind, much like you'll see when someone with an RV is pulling along a small car. Those who DON'T have a toad are basically on foot, using taxicabs, rental cars, buses, trains, planes, etc. to get from the drop-off point to either home or the next pick up.
I had arranged to pick up a new Volvo bobtail (a tractor-trailer without the trailer) in Dublin, Virginia this morning, getting there from Richmond via Greyhound, but unfortunately for me, a HUGE snowstorm hit here last night, and nothing is moving. I'm stuck in Chester, staying in a Days Inn! Needless to say, I'm also paying for it, and between the airfare to Indiana and this, I didn't actually break even on this first trip, at least not yet.
What I've learned is this: I NEED a toad! I could have driven out to Indiana for under a hundred bucks (vs $238 for USAir), and last night I could have unhooked and driven back home to wait out the storm there! My present car, unfortunately, isn't suitable, being a nice older Volvo 240 wagon with an automatic transmission, which can't be towed more than about twenty miles without damage.
Oh well.
Now, it looks like there will be a Richmond area pick up on Monday afternoon, taking a vehicle up to New Castle, Delaware. I can fairly easily get home from there, where I think I'll be buying a small car ASAP!
Here's the view out my motel room at about 10am today:
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
And so it begins...
For the last several years, I've been working two jobs: charter bus driver and musician. Neither exactly great money, but I've managed to pay my bills and have a little fun. However, recently both jobs have slowed down considerably (the bus driving is always seasonal anyway, and the band has booked fewer gigs because my brother got a better day job that takes more of his time), so my cash flow has turned into the occasional puddle.
So starting on Wednesday, I'll be working as a driveaway/transporter driver, which entails driving mostly new trucks, buses and RVs cross country from one of eight terminals to various destinations. Most of them are brand new, and the destinations are dealers. Anyway, I could be driving them pretty much anywhere in the continental USA.
My plan is to do this for a month or two to try it on for size (and profitability), and then if it's worth pursuing, to do it for a year or two to pay off a few credit cards and accumulate a nest egg, and then to either go back to school (hey, it's sure working for Mike!) or pursue some other actual career path.
One of the more interesting aspects of this new job is that I'm responsible for my own transportation after delivery! I'll be riding the Greyhound, renting cars, taking taxis, etc., mostly, but there will be times when I'll be somewhere with few such resources. I might be emailing the occasional SOS!
If this job turns out to be worth pursuing, I'll be getting myself a nice little tow car that I can pull behind (like you see RVs pulling), which will make all that both cheaper and easier...
Wish me luck!
Tim
So starting on Wednesday, I'll be working as a driveaway/transporter driver, which entails driving mostly new trucks, buses and RVs cross country from one of eight terminals to various destinations. Most of them are brand new, and the destinations are dealers. Anyway, I could be driving them pretty much anywhere in the continental USA.
My plan is to do this for a month or two to try it on for size (and profitability), and then if it's worth pursuing, to do it for a year or two to pay off a few credit cards and accumulate a nest egg, and then to either go back to school (hey, it's sure working for Mike!) or pursue some other actual career path.
One of the more interesting aspects of this new job is that I'm responsible for my own transportation after delivery! I'll be riding the Greyhound, renting cars, taking taxis, etc., mostly, but there will be times when I'll be somewhere with few such resources. I might be emailing the occasional SOS!
If this job turns out to be worth pursuing, I'll be getting myself a nice little tow car that I can pull behind (like you see RVs pulling), which will make all that both cheaper and easier...
Wish me luck!
Tim
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