Chicago Is! Not My Kinda Town

Who can't recall where they were and what they were doing six years ago today? It's hard to believe that it's been that long, and harder yet to believe that we've not experienced a similar attack since. Somebody must be doing something right! It's one of those days we will always remember and one certainly never to be forgotten, especially in these days of political debate. Life can and does go on, BUT NEVER, NEVER forget! Our very culture and our way of life depend on it.

"These are the times that try men’s souls: The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict the more glorious the triumph." ~~ Thomas Paine, The Crisis, December 1776

Here I am at a Pilot Truck Stop where I spent last night. I’m near Lowell, Indiana, along southbound Interstate 65 with Chicago in my rearview mirror! My new destination is one I’ve been to twice before, Chambersburg, Pa. less than 45-minutes from historic Gettysburg. I’ve been “solo” now for more than 10 weeks. I’ve seen 28 states and have traveled nearly 21,000 miles since getting my own truck on June 28th. I’m pretty amazed to say the least.

The last four days I’ve crisscrossed through Minnesota and Wisconsin. I’ve been in towns named “Sheboygan,” “Oconomowoc,” “Manitowoc,” and “Winona.” Winona, Minnesota is a small town of 27,000 and where, just three weeks ago, six were killed in flooding of “historic proportions” according to one newspaper article. On Sunday I spent the day in the Green Bay, Wisconsin area.

Last Thursday morning I called in to the “Morning News” show at K.I.T. That’s the radio station where I used to work in Yakima. I had a pleasant conversation on-the-air with my friends Dave and Lance who host their little radio show there in the valley. Top rated and number one in the market of course! I had come out of Memphis the day before and spent the night at the “Trail of Tears” rest area in the “Land of Lincoln.” That morning I was heading into Chicago some 200 miles distant. I pulled over at a truck stop for a few minutes as we chewed the fat about my life as a trucker and explored the hot issue surrounding Mexican truckers driving into the U.S., under the N.A.F.T.A. agreement. Dave promises me lunch next time I’m in town, hopefully in October.

Later in the evening I cut through the downtown area of “Chitown” (that’s trucker-talk for Chicago). I drove northbound along I-90/94 passing the famous Sears Tower with it’s broadcast antennas, one bathed in bright red the other in bright yellow light, rising above it’s roof. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of it as I passed beneath. From 1973 until 1996 it was the world’s tallest building and is currently the tallest in North America. As it was dark I was disappointed not to get a glimpse of Lake Michigan a very short distance to the east.

My destination was a Macy’s Department Store Distribution Center just north of downtown. To get there I drove several miles up narrow Diversey Avenue through block after block of traffic lights, row houses and businesses, acclimating myself to the smells and feel of the local neighborhoods and habitat. I couldn’t help but think, “How can people live this way?” Finally I arrived at the D.C. It was a nightmare for a trucker. The yard had little space and on top of that another Swift truck broke down just as it was leaving and I was entering through the same inadequate gate. It took nearly an hour to clear the way for my entry with several trucks waiting behind me and around the corner along the busy street.

Once inside there was little room to maneuver with several trucks from various carriers all in the same confined space. After dropping my empty trailer just slightly out of the way of others, I got my loaded trailer number (T51835) from the security guard and started walking the yard to find it. Along an outside wall trailers were stored three-deep and in order to see the numbers of some I’d have to stoop and crawl below one trailer to reach another. After 45 minutes of searching and revisiting areas, just to be sure, I went back to the guard shack and asked, “Are you sure this trailer is here in the yard.” His answer, “No it’s probably at our other yard.” Luckily it was just a block and a half away, but only a little bigger than the first, and surrounded by tall buildings on all sides. After checking in at yet another security gate in a few short minutes I was hooked up. But, with my 53 foot trailer behind, it was nearly impossible to turn around in order to exit the yard. After several attempts on my part a yard worker, whose job is moving trailers in and out, offered to take the controls and in about ten minutes of twisting and turning managed to get my rig turned in the right direction. He was a pleasant Hispanic man and after offering my hand in thanks, and saying he had more than earned his pay for that night, we went our separate ways as he said “God bless you.” My way was pointed up Diversey back to the freeway and headed, with stout determination, the hell out of Chicago!!

The Chicago stop was the beginning of my trip that took me further north for my visit to Wisconsin and Minnesota. While I enjoyed the native’s quirky accents I had seen enough of those two states and yesterday finally left the region. Of course as I headed further east I had to pass through Chicago once again. This time I avoided the downtown freeways but never-the-less the toll road bypasses were dreadful to say the least. It took me more than 2 1/2 hours, in mostly bumper-to-bumper traffic, to make my escape.

Along the way and to the west of I-294 I passed the sprawling O’Hare airport and from my vantage point could see planes parked along ramps and runways faintly stretching into the distance for a couple of miles. Dang that’s a big airport! No offense Chicagoans, not that’s it isn’t a nice place to “visit,” but as far as Chicago is concerned -- from an 18-wheel perspective -- I’m sure as heck going to avoid future assignments there.

As I mentioned earlier I spent Sunday in Green Bay. Not having an assignment I sat for a couple of hours south of the city at a quiet, and mostly unoccupied, rest area (imagining myself at Church) and listening to the Green Bay Packer home football game on the radio. Little did I know that the company would send me that afternoon on a short excursion to drop off a trailer. And where to? Right down Lombardi Avenue (named after coach Vince Lombardi) and past Lambeau Field, the home of the Green Bay Packers. As I arrived the Packers had just defeated the Philadelphia Eagles 30 minutes earlier ... and the traffic!! I had no idea that my directions would take me right past the stadium until I saw it in the distance! Historic Lambeau Field was host to the storied “Ice Bowl,” when the temperature dropped to 13 degrees below zero on New Years Eve afternoon in 1967. It was the coldest temperature ever recorded for an NFL game and considered by many the greatest game in pro football history. Around the stadium streets were named after notable Packer celebrities. Among them “Holmgren Way,” named after Seattle Seahawk coach Mike Holmgren during his seventh and final year with the Packers in 1998. Gee name a street after him and then he leaves town! That’s gratitude for you!

Anyway Bret Favre and the Packers beat the Eagles 16-13 and the crowd leaving the stadium was festive. I’d never seen so much Green and Gold in any one area, (even later when I visited some suburban stores), but I guess that’s normal at any football venue (only the colors are different). But the one thing you don’t often see are the “Cheesehead” hats worn by some of the fans. It’s just what it implies, a large hat shaped like a wedge of cheese and yellow in color.


After-all Wisconsin is known for it’s large production of cheese ... how appropriate. But the hats are “cheesy” none-the-less!

In just a couple of days my truck will be parked at the Martinsburg, W. Va. terminal. This weekend with my girlfriend Mercedes I’ll be visiting New York City along with a best friend from the Seattle area. My next post should originate from the Big Apple! (Pictures to be posted soon!)


Sign of the Day: “State Prison Next Exit - Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers”

Memphis But No Time for Graceland

My thanks as always to all those that visit here and for your words of praise.

I’m in Memphis, Tennessee tonight at a truck stop along Interstate 40 after running a load of footwear from Dexter, Maine to Mabelvale, Arkansas, a little community just southwest of Little Rock. I dropped my trailer early last night at a Dillard’s Department Store Distribution Center and then spent the night in nearby Benton. While here in Memphis I’d love to visit Elvis’ Graceland but there’s no time this trip to venture the less than ten mile distance. Where would I park anyway?

As I drove into Little Rock yesterday, along southbound I-30, I crossed the Arkansas River and could see a short distance to the east the “Clinton Presidential Center.” Set along the banks of the river within a park setting the building is a bit unique with a large section elevated above the ground. As much as I tried I really didn’t find the architecture all that impressive. But the huge and even dramatic First Pentecostal Church nearby and pictured below, more than made up for it.



After picking up loads today at two different locations in “Clinton Country” I’ll be on my way tomorrow to Hammond, Indiana just south of Chicago. My cargo includes Black & Decker appliances, as well as baby walkers and high chairs made by a local Arkansas company, all bound for Sears and K-Mart.

I’ve certainly seen my share of the northeast and especially the New England states the last few weeks. Twice in twenty days I’ve been as far north as Maine. The only two states in New England I have yet to see are Vermont and Rhode Island. Sooner or later I suppose I’ll make it. It’s amazing how quickly one can travel across several states in so short a time in the east and you gotta love those New Englanders and their distinct accents! During those trips I’ve come within 50 miles of the Big Apple and slightly further from Boston. As for N.Y.C., I’m saving that adventure for a week from Saturday when Mercedes and I will be visiting one of my best friends from Seattle there. I don’t expect a lot of hospitality while in New York however, but at least I won’t be driving into town in a big rig. Hopefully I’ll have an opportunity soon to take in the sights in historic Boston as well.

Speaking of historic places ... in addition to my recent visit to our nation’s capital, I’ve also had the opportunity to visit two Civil War battlefields with Mercedes. For a long time, since first seeing Ken Burn’s 1990 outstanding documentary series on the war, I’ve been a bit of a Civil War buff and have read several books on the subject. I especially enjoy visiting these historic places with someone else whose interest, patience and curiosity are the same as my own.

On Sunday August 26, after my week-long furlough in Washington, while on our way from Falls Church to my truck parked at our Richmond terminal, Mercedes and I made a spur-of-the-moment stop along I-95 to the battlefield at Fredericksburg. Located halfway between the Union capital of Washington and the Confederate capital of Richmond, the town was of high strategic value during those dark days. We spent a couple of hours there roaming the historic markers of what remains of the battlefield, as well as the tranquil National Cemetery where many of that battle’s dead are buried. During one single day in December of 1862 there were 18,000 casualties at Fredericksburg, among them four Generals, two from each army. It was disappointing to learn that much of the original field of battle, where many soldiers fell, is now occupied by homes and other buildings built as the city prospered and grew.

Then, just last Saturday, I stopped along Pennsylvania’s I-81 and parked the truck at the state’s “Welcome Center” on the Maryland border. Mercedes made the 90 minute drive up from Virginia and we headed for Gettysburg about 40 miles away. Quite unique from any other historic area I’ve had the opportunity to visit, Gettysburg is big and the open battlefield is preserved with numerous markers, monuments and statues spread across a number of square miles. All however are easily accessible by car. Many original buildings, still with their battle scars, remain in the area and are used as residences by Park Rangers to prevent vandalism.

We arrived mid-afternoon but wanting to take in the sight on a tour bus, and really not having enough money to do so, we decided to put off spending much time on the battleground. Instead we took the shuttle to Dwight Eisenhower’s nearby farm which the President and former five-star General bought following his retirement from the military in 1950. Just 18 miles from the Presidential retreat “Camp David,” Maryland, and adjacent to the Gettysburg battlefield, the home and it’s surroundings are, to my way of thinking, ideally situated with an incredible and wide ranging view of the distant mountains. What a beautiful and peaceful location for retirement! I especially appreciated walking through the house where “Ike” and Mamie’s original furnishings and accessories were, just the same as when they lived there.

Later Mercedes and I visited one of the two Gettysburg visitor centers and walked some of it’s streets as we made plans for our next visit. A highlight was a walk through the National Cemetery and seeing where Lincoln gave his famous Gettysburg Address, the spot marked by the Soldier’s National Monument pictured at the top of this posting. It’s a nice little town and worthy of a couple of days to see all that it offers. My goal while I’m “long-hauling” it is to visit every major battlefield of the Civil War and as many Presidential Libraries as I can.

Keep those emails coming. You’ll hear from me again soon, and thanks again for stopping by. May your travels be safe and as enjoyable as my own!

Maine to The Carolinas & Washington D.C.

I’m sitting along an off-ramp at Dandridge, Tennessee about 30 miles or so east of Knoxville. There are no open spaces at the nearby truck stop, so I make my home here tonight on I-81. This is my second pass through the state in just ten days and among that growing number of states I had never visited before ... until just recently. Tomorrow morning I pick up a load at Chestnut Hill and head to Chambersburg, Pa. just a short distance from Gettysburg.

Since I last wrote I’ve been as far north as Skowhagen, Maine and down to Greer, South Carolina. Then it was back to Front Royal, Virginia, about a 90 minute drive from Washington, D.C. After my drop of Sterilite products in Front Royal at a Family Dollar Warehouse on the 18th I spent the next 8 days in the Washington D.C. area visiting with Mercedes. She treated me to a great time and chauffered me around to visit the sights and a few of the old neighborhoods where I lived as a young boy in nearby Maryland.

One night we drove into the city from Virginia passing on our left the John F. Kennedy Center and the nearby Watergate complex. To our right we could see the Lincoln Memorial and Memorial Bridge connecting the city with the main entrance into Arlington Cemetery. In the distance ahead was the Washington Monument. All were brightly lit.

Within a couple of blocks of the White House we parked the car and walked the short distance to the front of the “Executive Mansion" on Pennsylvania Avenue. I thought how small the President’s home looks when seen in person. Not as big I’m sure as many people imagine, but impressive none-the-less. A few people gazed through the large iron fence while others took pictures. A single protestor stood vigil across the street, sitting in a make-shift tent covered in a large clear plastic sheeting for protection from the weather. His cause I failed to note. Watching us close by was a "Secret Service" police officer. I knew he was Secret Service as that's what it said on the back of his jacket. I was struck by the number of uniformed police seen at nearly every street corner along the route from the Capitol building to the White House.

A few days later we would return to the city and spend several hours visiting Arlington Cemetery. Among our stops was President Kennedy’s grave and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. While there we watched the head of Russia’s Navy place a wreath at the tomb with an American Navy Admiral. Just before, a Navy band played the Russian Anthem and then our own Star Spangled Banner. After the wreath was placed a female Naval bugler played “Taps” while a large contingent of Navy Honor Guard and flag bearers stood by and then silently but precisely marched away. Within a few minutes we watched the popular “Changing of the Guard.” We also took a few moments to visit briefly the grave of Audie Murphy. In 27 months of combat, Murphy became the most decorated U.S. combat soldier of World War II. Later he would become a successful Hollywood actor and played himself in the highly acclaimed autobiographical movie "To Hell and Back."

Later in the day it was on to the memorials of World War II, the Korean War as well as the long black Vietnam War Memorial. Frankly I wasn’t as impressed with the Vietnam "Wall" as I had expected. I can understand those who were critical of it's design. The new WW II Memorial (pictured above) however was quite impressive and spacious with a large fountain in it’s center. It’s in a beautiful setting -- midway between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial. At the end of our visit we stood at the base of the large seated Abraham Lincoln in the beautiful “temple” that honors him. As we left we rehearsed the scene from the movie “Forrest Gump” when Forrest spoke from the same steps we stood on.

After having been gone for so long (the last time I was in D.C. was in 1980), and especially growing up there as a boy, I had forgotten how beautiful a city Washington really is. Many of the government buildings are simply magnificent in their design and architecture. I was pleasantly surprised that the weather there wasn’t as humid and hot as it normally is. In fact I was reminded of the unpredictable weather we often experienced in Seattle. Rainy and a bit cold it was, despite it being August. That’s certainly not the “norm” for Washington D.C, but you won't hear me complain.

A Week in Willard One Night

I sit this morning in Willard, Ohio, about an hour or so drive west of Akron. I arrived last night at 7 p.m. eastern time after driving with only one short fueling and bathroom break for a straight twelve hours. My driver Manager phoned me along the way indicating the “consignee” was “chomping at the bit” to receive this load of 12 large paper rolls weighing in at more than 42-thousand pounds. But, When I arrived I found out I had an appointment time of 5:30 the following afternoon. To say the least I’m not a happy camper, especially in light of the fact that I could have stopped at one of two truck stops some 40 miles east of here. Instead I’m stuck here in a dirt lot among other disgruntled and waiting truckers next to the delivery docks. On top of all this my Qualcomm communication keyboard hasn’t worked for several days and there is no cell phone service here in Willard. But I suppose things could be worse.

In an attempt on foot to find a pay phone to make some calls, and finding none of three that would work for me, I happened along a local ice cream store. In an effort to relieve my frustration I decided to buy a large chocolate cone. When I saw how tall they had stacked the ice cream (a good 6 or more inches) I had expected a charge of three to four dollars and was pleasantly surprised to pay only $1.75. With my frustration only mildly tempered that was the highlight of my evening as I feel asleep early and woke at about 6:30 a.m.

The drive here past Akron on highway 244 was interesting as I passed through several small towns and, among the Ohio Amish people. Along the way I passed a make-shift Amish outdoor market. There sat dozens of their wagons hitched to horses with the hatted and bonneted men and women and their similarly dressed children busily milling about. The wagons loaded with fruits and vegetables. On the opposite side of the lot were the cars and trucks of the non-believers there to buy their goods. A couple of times I had to slow for a horse-drawn buggy along the way and passed others going in the opposite direction.

Since my last entry I’ve been to Oklahoma City and then went on to New Milford, Connecticut. I spent one of my best days ever visiting with a gorgeous latin girl who drove up from the Virginia suburbs of Washington D.C. (350 miles) just to see me! (Who would have thought!). "Mercedes," who is unquestionably the new love of my life, or even more commonly referred to as my "girlfriend," and I spent most of our time visiting nearby Waterbury, Ct.

Waterbury is a beautiful and typical old New England town with it’s tree-shaded homes, narrow streets, a sprawling downtown park with a statue honoring it’s Civil War soldiers. An attached plaque contained the following inscription: “In honor of the patriotism and to perpetuate the memory of the 900 brave men who went forth from this town to fight the war for the Union. This monument has been erected by their townsmen that all who come after them may be mindful of their deeds and fail not in the day of trial to emulate their example. 1861-1865” Waterbury has become one of my all-time favorite towns and Mercedes and I hope to visit there again soon.

Eight days ago, as I passed through Akron on my first trip in many years to the northeast, I spent an evening with my cousin Judy and visited her mom and dad, my aunt Mary and Uncle Eli. It was a pleasant but brief reunion with those I hadn’t seen in about a dozen years. Then, just this past Tuesday, I spent a similar afternoon and evening visiting a number of my cousins who I hadn’t seen for 20 years or longer in Clearfield, Pa. Clearfield is where I was born and the source of many fond childhood memories with my large family of aunts, uncles and cousins. While there I visited the cemetery where my father, grandfather, great grandparents and many of my other relatives are buried.

I had hoped this job would allow me to see the country and to visit friends and relatives I hadn't seen in years. So far, so good!

Wal-Mart Country

I’m parked at a Pilot Truck Stop in Springdale, Arkansas, just down the road from Bentonville and the Wal-Mart Distribution Center where I make my next delivery tomorrow morning. My load is nearly 37,000 pounds of mens and ladies watches. A "high value load" as they're sometimes called. Bentonville also happens to be where Sam Walton opened his first Wal-Mart store in 1962 and where the world's largest retailer is headquartered. The original "five and dime" store pictured above now serves as a Wal-Mart "Visitor Center" in Bentonville.

I arrived here at 1:30 this afternoon. After an hour or so visiting the truck stop store, updating my log and a bit of tidying up my small surroundings I laid down for a nap and just woke. Matt Drudge talks on the radio.

The last several days have come pretty early for me with not as much sleep as I should have overnight. Last night I watched a DVD on my laptop. It’s the first time I’ve done that since my truck driving career began. I’ve either been too tired, didn’t have enough time, or just plain not interested to do so previously. I bought “The Legend of Bagger Vance” several weeks ago and had never seen it. It’s unlike me to buy a movie unseen but I’d always thought it to be my kind of movie and I wasn’t disappointed.

I drove across the Oklahoma/Arkansas state line early this afternoon. It’s the first time I’ve visited the state. No Clinton signs anywhere but I was greeted in the border town of Siloam Springs with American flags displayed on every light post along the south side of the street spaced about 30 feet apart. I’m guessing I drove for four or five miles along highway 412 through the entire town with not one light post missed. Businesses along the route also with their own flag poles, displayed state and other flags along with "Old Glory." It was quite an impressive sight. I’d like to write the city council a note of appreciation and thanks for their display of patriotism.

I loved the large billboard I saw as I crossed into Oklahoma from Texas, “Welcome to Tulsa Time” You’d have to be a country music fan to appreciate that.

Just North of the Border

Hard to believe that August is already upon us and summer is about to wind down and give way to cooler temperatures, at least in many parts of the country. But let's not be too premature, there’s still the next 30 days as well as September and maybe part of October to enjoy. Maybe I can stay down in the southern part of the country and not see any snow or temps below 60 all winter long! I doubt it though.

I’m in Mexico! At least it feels that way. Everywhere I go I see signs in Spanish and everyone I hear seems to be speaking the same as I await another assignment. I just completed a 340 mile trip from Phoenix to the “Otay Mesa” area south of San Diego. Even further south yet of National City and Chula Vista! Heck I’m so close to Mexico even the Border Patrol checks me out as they pass. I saw a border patrolman on a four wheeler a few hours ago arrayed in a camouflage helmet and combatish green outfit with holster ready to do battle. He passed my parked truck seeming to be on the lookout for something or someone outside Swift’s Otay Mesa Terminal on Calle de Linea (that’s the name of the street).

So, here I am back in California again and only about a mile and a half from the Mexican border. Tijuana lies only slightly further. As I drove through southwest California I saw quite a few Border Patrol vehicles (cars and pickups) and even a few helicopters skimming the desert border. Out in the middle of nowhere along Interstate 8 I slowed to a near-stop but was passed on through at a “Border Patrol Check Station.” All of this no doubt part of Homeland Security and immigration control. I’m in the “thick of it” here! The photo above is a section of border fence not far from where I sit.

My cargo that brought me to the southern-most reaches of California? Nearly 850 fifty pound bags of “Pizza Flour!” With the pallets and packing material the total load came in at 43,645 lbs. When I opened the doors on the trailer to make the delivery they were all still neatly stacked on their 17 pallets just as they were when I closed the doors adding the lock and seal at their origin. It was a smooth drive all the way.

I spent the night last night about 70 miles north of my destination along I-8 at the “Golden Acorn” Casino and Truck Stop in Live Oak Springs, Ca. courtesy of the La Posta Indian tribe. I’ve never heard of them and it’s likely they’ve never heard of me. Since they didn’t have a Craps table, and especially since I didn’t have the money, I didn’t play. I looked at the one wall full of pictures of their big winners and admittedly envied the California man who a couple of years ago won a cool $1,950,000 on one of the Casino “Wheels of Fortune” machines. Why couldn’t that be me? One reason, I don’t play the slots!

After looking around the truck stop store in the connected facility I stood by watching a few hands of Blackjack before venturing back to my parked truck. Once cozied up inside with the “privacy curtains” drawn (just like they are now) I made some bologna sandwiches with a fruit cup and enjoyed a few bites from a chocolate bar washed down with Lemon-Lime Gatorade. Man! This is living!

I thought late this afternoon my next assignment would be a “High Value” load destined to a Wal-Mart facility at their home town of Bentonville, Arkansas. But all of a sudden it wasn’t to be. A 1670 mile trip here one minute, along with feelings of ecstasy, and then an hour later ... gone! A long story, good for telling in person. Life’s not fair, but who ever said it would be?

I had planned to be on the road by 9:00 tonight after sitting here since 11:00 this morning, but now it looks like I might be spending the night on a street outside the terminal. I won’t be alone though as I’m in good company with about a half dozen other trucks, with and without trailers, parked in the same area. Ask me too about making the wrong turn less than a half-mile from today’s destination. Thank goodness, tomorrows another day.

Sign of the Day: “Caution: People Crossing On Road” (Along California’s 8-Lane Interstate 805 - Southbound near the Mexico border).

By The Time I Get To Phoenix

Well here I am finally in the "Valley of the Sun," Phoenix, Arizona and my tractor parked at the company headquarters. I have once again learned that it isn’t always “what” you know but rather “who” you know when it comes to getting what you want. This truism was evident in my more than three-week effort to get down this way with several near-misses.

I’ve spent the weekend here in the Phoenix “burbs” having arrived early Friday evening amidst all the news about the two T.V. news helicopters that collided here earlier in the day. Rather than deal with the unknown parking situation at the terminal on a weekend night, and wanting to make the trip to pick me up as easy as possible on my various hosts, I chose to drive beyond the headquarters facility to the nearest Rest Area some 30+ miles further down I-10, half-way it seemed to Tucson.

Since arriving, with more than two days to spare before my scheduled delivery, I’ve visited with friends and family and spent two nights sleeping in a regular bed, although my niece Zoe’s was a little short. I also managed to get a much-needed haircut. I’ve seen some relatives I haven’t seen in more than a dozen years, many of them just young kids the last time I saw them. Now they’re married with young families of their own. Clearly the next generation has a firm foothold and is about to take over.

Last night I stayed in my truck and after resting only three hours was on my way to a five a.m. delivery of my 45,600 pound load of bottled water. The shipment originated in Stockton, Ca., and was picked up Thursday morning at nine a.m. with the final destination a local “Sparkletts” distributor here in Phoenix. The more than 700 mile trip was uneventful but I did enjoy some more unique sights and experiences along the way. Among them, crossing the treacherous “Grapevine” a mountain pass along I-5 100 miles or so south of Bakersfield. A major route between northern and southern California the pass is located at the southern end of the San Joaquin Valley. Along the way there were plenty of trucks, lines of them traveling in both directions. As we neared the bottom of the long, steep downhill grade semis were limited to a speed of 40 mph. Finally and suddenly at the bottom, you find yourself in the community of Valencia and the "Magic Mountain" amusement park a short distance to the west and just 26 miles from Los Angeles. Time to change the radio to my favorite oldies station, K-EARTH One-Oh-One!

The company headquarters is everything I had imagined. A complex of 11 modern buildings. A “Driver’s Center,” 9 or 10 lanes for fueling up, and of course “Building 1,” where the “Administration” hangs out. I spent a wad at the company store this morning, buying several shirts and also a number of tools to help me in my job.

The weather here has been just as expected ... HOT! Although “cooler” than recent temperatures it was still in the high 90’s and up to 104 degrees during the day, “not bad” the locals say. On Saturday I saw a distant dust storm in the area and was glad that we weren’t in the midst of it. Onerous looking to say the least!

I’ve now driven more than 21,000 miles since hitting the road with my mentor and more than 7500 miles since going solo 32 days ago. Where I’m headed next? Who knows?