Waiting -- and Pictures From the Road

Currently. After spending the past week and a little more in Texas and the west, I'm on my way back east. At I write this, I am sitting at a small truck stop in Brush, Colorado (on I-76 just east of Fort Morgan, about 85 miles east of Denver), on my way to Minnesota for a delivery Friday morning near Minneapolis.

If you have read this blog any length of time (or have backtracked to earlier entries), you already know that I love running out west – would run out west all the time if I could. So, this past week and a half has just been like a vacation to me. I always love driving, the lifestyle it involves (with rare exceptions that are made up of frustrations that come with any job), but driving out west, I think I am happier and more content than any other time on the road.

Since last time. Last time I wrote from Kingsville, Texas. Much of the past week since then, I've been waiting. But it hasn't been too bad, and I don't mind downtime occasionally.

Man From Rome. Right after finishing my writing last time, and going back out to my truck, there was a truck parked next to me where one hadn't been before I'd gone into the truck stop. I noticed on the door that the trucking company was located in Cedartown, Georgia, which is only about 15 miles from my hometown of Rome.

The driver was sitting in his truck on the phone. When he got off the phone, I rolled down my window and waved at him to get his attention. I told him I noticed his trucking company was located in Cedartown, and wondered where he lived. (I figured if anyone drove for a company in Cedartown, they had to be from around there.) He told me he lived in Rome, and told me his name.

I asked him whereabouts in Rome he lived, and when he told me, it was the same road that all of my grandmother's side of the family is from. When I told him that I still had a great-uncle and some cousins living on that road, and mentioned the name Dowdy, he starting reeling off names of many of my cousins. He knows quite a few folks in that side of my family, and lives within site across the road from where a cousin of mine lives.

From that beginning we talked for about 30 minutes. He is 68, a little older than my Daddy, and told me he's been driving a truck for over 44 years. Longer than I've been alive. Talk about perspective. For a while after we stopped talking, I sat in my truck wondering, even as much as I love trucking and this life on the road, if I could imagine doing it for 44 years. My mind couldn't even wrap itself around the thought.

He was a super-nice guy, and it was so eerie to run into someone in the middle of The Great State of Texas from my hometown – and even more, knew many of my extended family. It's times like that when I realize that as vast as this beautiful country of ours seems sometimes, especially in the wide-open spaces out west, that it really is a small place, and the most common connections can crop up in the most unexpected places. Like going to China and running into your neighbor down the street in a local restaurant.

I wish I had been able to talk with him a little longer about his trucking experiences. I think I would have learned a great deal.

Waiting, Part I. The next morning (this would have been Tuesday, April 15, if you care to keep track), I delivered the load I had to Weslaco. By the time I was done there, I still didn't have my next load. I was able to park at the warehouse I delivered to for a little while, but after an hour, I decided to go ahead and find another place to park so I wouldn't wear out my welcome. I finally found a Flying J a little bit north of Weslaco, in Edinburgh, Texas. I went there to wait.

Waiting is part of every truck driver's life: waiting on the next load, waiting to be loaded or unloaded, waiting to get a truck or trailer repaired, waiting in line to fuel, waiting in traffic because of accidents or construction, waiting on bad weather to clear out. Just waiting. I have often thought during my 3 years in a truck that if someone can't wait well, trucking isn't for them.

I don't know that I'm any more patient than anyone else, but my passions and interests are inclined for such an environment. If I have a book to read, a laptop to use, a video to watch, I am content. So downtime just means time for me to pursue those things that I love to do anyway. I cannot remember a time since I first learned to read that I haven't habitually carried a book with me most everywhere I would go.

My earliest clear memory of this is when I was about nine years old, going over to Nanny and Boe's house (my grandparents, where I spent about half the time), or to visit my Daddy for a weekend, I had a little gym bag, packed with my books and always a notebook for writing. My Nanny used to call it my “satchel”, and remarked often, laughing, that she did not believe it would be possible for me to go anywhere without it.

I can hear her even now as I write this: “You're just like Uncle Andrew, sittin' in the middle of your suitcase.” (I never met Uncle Andrew – he had died before I was born --, but he was my grandmother's uncle, and I know him well through my grandmother's awesome stories.)

Anyway, back to what I was talking about: waiting. One advantage of driving for a large company like Schneider is that waiting on a load isn't usually something that happens. Maybe I have to wait several hours for a load, but never before have I waiting in terms of days.

But, when you go into areas where freight is soft for whatever reason, sometimes you have to wait. And so it was for me in south Texas last week. It wasn't until the next afternoon that I got my next load. But it was more than worth the wait!

I was to pick up a loaded trailer in Laredo, and take it to Oxnard, California! Further west, including west Texas! I'll wait anytime for that kind of load.

So, last Wednesday saw me driving up to Laredo. I had to be in Oxnard by Saturday night. 1800 paid miles (which meant about 1900 or more real miles). Plenty of time. I could leave early Thursday morning, take my time, and enjoy the drive.

Waiting, Part II. So, you've got it all planned out, do you, Allan? Leave Thursday morning early, take your time, huh?

Not so fast.

I got to Laredo, found my trailer, and noticed a tag attached to the front of the trailer. Usually those tags indicate a trailer with a major problem. I got out and looked; sure enough, it had a problem. In big block letters on the tag was the warning: “DON'T MOVE”.

Part of the main support frame of the trailer, between the two axles on the driver's side, had a big crack in it. Not good.

The Laredo drop yard has a small maintenance shop for working on trailers (lots of trailers coming across the border have problems), but they were closed when I got there. I had to wait until the next morning at 7:00 for them to come in.

No leaving early for California. The trailer had been there for a while, and someone had obviously noticed the problem. Why hadn't they already repaired it, I wondered. No answer came.

Thursday morning, I talked to the mechanics, they told me to bring the trailer over to the shop so they could look at it. Repairing it would take some major welding. And time.

So. I'm waiting again.

Like I said: I don't mind waiting. But with a load to California, waiting meant the clock ticking, giving me less time to deliver the load on time. Instead of taking my time, I'd be rushing, trying to make up for starting late.

Finally, about 1:30 that afternoon, the trailer was repaired, and I could leave.

I stopped the first night at a rest area on I-10 in west Texas, about 15 miles west of Saragosa, Texas. Friday, I made it to Eloy, Arizona, between Tucson and Phoenix. I made the delivery on time in Oxnard on Saturday.

I had been to the same place in Oxnard back in February, and had found a small place I could park that wasn't in any of my truck stop guides. It only had four spots for trucks, so I was hoping it would have room for me, since I'd told Schneider I'd be available on Sunday morning. The only other options I had were to drive to the Schneider maintenance facility just south of downtown LA or the Operating Center in Fontana, 60 and 100 miles away, respectively.

I found room at the little place in Oxnard, and still didn't have my next load. So I settled in to wait.

Waiting, Part III. Sunday morning came. Still no load. Sunday afternoon came. Still no load.

Late in the afternoon, my satellite unit started beeping. My next load.

Pick up an empty trailer at the same place I'd delivered on Saturday (they didn't have any when I was there the day before), and take it to the LA maintenance yard. Drop the empty trailer, and pick up a loaded trailer.

It was supposed to be unloaded Monday morning in Commerce, California. That's 7 whole miles. Wow. Don't know if I can make it 7 miles – let me plan my driving schedule for this load.

My plan mostly involved getting to LA Sunday afternoon, and commencing to wait some more. Til Monday morning.

But, I'm in southern California, perfect weather, I'm out west. So waiting isn't a problem in the same way it would be if I were waiting in Newark, New Jersey, or some equally awful place (though it would be hard to beat NJ for awful quotient in my opinion).

No more waiting. I delivered that load Monday morning, and then got my next load. I was to go down to Otay, California, to the Schneider drop yard there (Otay is just southeast of San Diego, right on the Mexican border), pick up a load going to Bloomington, Minnesota. That's the load I'm currently under.

I picked up the load on Monday, and shut down in Fontana Monday night. Yesterday, I drove north on I-15 through Las Vegas, into Utah, where I-70 begins, and made it as far as Richfield last night. And now I'm in Brush, Colorado.

I-70 through Utah and Colorado is one of my favorite stretches of road, especially going through Glenwood Canyon. The weather was good, traffic wasn't too bad, and the drive was beautiful.

For the first time in a while, I took some pictures. I'll post them below.

Pictures from the road: Richfield, Utah.  The view from the truck stop I was at last night.











Pictures from the road: Vail, Colorado.  I took these pictures just east of Vail at a rest stop on I-70 today.

I suppose that's enough for now (or more than enough for some of you, I'm sure).

Until next time . . . keep the wheels rollin' . . . when you aren't waiting . . .

Allan

No Better Place

The best place on earth. I'm writing this from inside an Arby's at the Love's truck stop in Kingsville, Texas, home of the largest ranch in the United States (at 1289 square miles, it's larger than the state of Rhode Island). But the fact that I'm in Texas – anywhere – means that I'm on my own personal hallowed ground. There's no place I'd rather be than Texas. Even as much as I love it further west, especially Montana, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, nowhere else is Texas. I love Georgia, have my roots there, and most of the people I love most in this world are there; but Texas has an exalted place in the mythology of the sacred in my life.

I first came to Texas in August, 1983, on my way fresh out of high school, on my way to college, the ministry, and changing the world. Coming down I-20 and seeing the Dallas cityscape rise up out of the flat spaces suddenly over a rise awed me as an 18-year-old. It was so big – bigger than anything I'd ever seen. I was inspired.

Over the course of living in Dallas for almost nine years, I became in my soul and marrow a Texan. I never uttered words more proudly than in response to the question, “where are you from?”: “I'm from Dallas, Texas”; or the variant after I'd been there a few years, and loved all of what Texas was, all that it represented, and not just Dallas: “I'm from Texas.”

I moved from Dallas to Chicago in 1991, and loved living there, but never felt like I belonged to Chicago or it to me, in the same way I imbibed Texas. I was a Texan living in Chicago. When I married and moved to Florida, even after ten years, I never grew attached to the place, though I liked it, enjoyed my life there because of Charlotte and her family. But the moment my marriage was wending its way to its sad end, I left Florida, and have not missed it, though I have ached for Charlotte millions of times.

Texas is in my blood, my thoughts, in a way I cannot fathom myself, much less explain. But I am not alone in this experience: Terry, who is from Oklahoma, has a similar love affair with this place. He was here in this same place only last Friday (yes, this very place; he delivered to the very same place I'm going tomorrow). He stopped here to take a short break; I stopped here for the night, especially after our talk: “ You've got to stop at the Love's in Kingsville. There's this girl up at the front register ...”

And so there is.

Since last time. Last time I wrote to you (for you know it is to you I write, don't you? Only you.), I was on my way to deliver a load to Macclenny, Florida, just west of Jacksonville. After that, I picked up a load in Jacksonville that was going all the way to Los Angeles, but I took it only as far as the Schneider drop yard in Reserve, Louisiana. The rest of the way, it would probably be taken by a team.

On my way through Florida, I was able to stop and have breakfast with my Daddy and his wife, Hilda. We enjoyed our short visit, and once more I was amazed at how lucky I am to be able to see people I love all over the country as I travel. And, you may recall (but probably not since your poor noggin has more to keep up with than the comings and goings of the Lonesome Dove Xpress), I had just seen my Daddy the week before up in Chicago when we both happened to be up there.

I made it to Reserve on Friday night and stayed there until Saturday morning. Schneider has a small maintenance facility there at the drop yard, and they have a small area where drivers can relax, watch tv, bring in a book or laptop, do laundry, or whatever. I took my laptop inside to check e-mail, read some blogs, and maybe do some writing.

There were several other drivers in there, and we all started talking. It was a most enjoyable time. One driver, who was the only person inside when I went in, and I talked about ordering a pizza. His truck was in the shop, I was already out of hours to run (which meant I couldn't even drive my truck for food legally), and there was no company car available. And we couldn't find a place that delivered to Reserve (where there was literally nothing).

But, at last, one of the other drivers who wandered in and heard us talking of our desperate plight, a young lady named Mary, offered to take one of us to pick up the pizza. I got the assignment, and off we go. Mary is a bulk driver for Schneider (bulk drivers haul the tanker trucks, like the ones that deliver gasoline and other things you've probably seen on the road), and it was cool hearing her story. She had a brand new Toni Braxton CD (greatest hits, I think; “Unbreak My Heart” is my favorite of hers), so we jammed to that on the way Papa John's.

We had called Papa John's earlier on the suggestion of another driver who had come in and was from that area, and they at first had told us they would deliver it. Then they called and said they couldn't – it was too far.

When we got there to pick it up, they told us that because we had to come get it after they had told us they'd deliver, it was no charge. Free pizza, new friends, and pleasant conversation on a Friday night – what could be better? (Only if it happened in Texas.)

Saturday morning, I was given a load to pick up in Zachary, Louisiana, just north of Baton Rouge, going to Pennington, Alabama, in the southwest part of that state. I delivered the load on Sunday, and picked up a load at the same place going to Weslaco, Texas.

As I mentioned above, Terry delivered to this same place last week. Talk about bizarre!

Speaking of Terry . . .

Terry. Terry came back on the road last Wednesday, and we've talked most every day since then. He had a great time off, was able to get his truck from Dallas up to Arkansas, and has been living the high life with his recent loads to Texas, and then to California, where he is now.

Terry is doing well, and would surely send his greetings to you if he knew I was writing you at this moment.

Miscellania. I finished the Journals of Lewis and Clark I was reading, and am now a good way through a collection of writings by Henry Thoreau, the largest of which is Walden . Thoreau's call to his readers to “simplify, simplify, simplify” their lives, his sometimes solitary retreats into a simpler life, and his credo of individualism (making choices, taking responsibility) resonate with me. I haven't read anything by Thoreau since college (that I remember; and I probably would), so this is a welcome journey for me. On deck is Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson , which I have never read. At 1700 pages, it will be with me for a while.

I'm loving, like a newfound toy on Christmas morning, listening more to XM Sonic Theater, enjoying audio books and dramas while cruising down the road in my big orange truck.

More I can always find to write, but the seat here in Arby's is getting awfully hard and I'm getting awfully sore. And, in such a way I am motivated to part company with you until next time.

Until next time . . . keep the wheels rollin' . . .

Allan from Texas

Hello From Columbia, South Carolina

Since last time. In the last week and a half, I have been bouncing between north and south in the east like a big orange ping-pong ball. When I first got back home to the truck and road, my first load was to pick up a load in Rome, Georgia, which had never happened before. I got to see Mama and Cindy for a little while that first night. That load was delivering up near Buffalo, New York. When I got to Buffalo, it was cold and snowing.

I mentioned in the last entry that I was on my way to Memphis with a load I picked up in Buffalo.

Then I went up to Wisconsin, to Green Bay, where Schneider's headquarters is. I always like going up to Wisconsin. My Daddy was working in Chicagoland that week, so on my return trip through there with a load going to South Carolina, I got to stop for the night at the Schneider OC in Gary, Indiana, and Daddy came over, picked me up, and we got to go out to eat and spend some good time together.

My next load was to pick up an empty trailer at the Kimberly Clark I had delivered to Saturday in Graniteville (just across the state line from Augusta, Georgia) and drive about 150 miles over to Bennettsville and pick up a very heavy load of paper rolls going up to Du Bois, Pennsylvania. It proved to be a very tiring and frustrating day, largely because I made it so.

The Kimberly Clark facility didn't have any empty Schneider trailers, so they sent me to a Target facility in Lugoff, South Carolina. No problem. When I got the trailer, I inspected it, as always, and it was a newer trailer that just had its annual inspection in January, and there were no problems that I could see with it. So off I went to Bennettsville.

I had planned to get loaded and then make it as far as I comfortably could, probably 200 or 300 miles, before shutting down. The load had to be in Pennsylvania the next day by midnight, and at almost 600 miles, it was easily done the way I had projected things.

Then there's that old “the best laid plans of mice and men” thing that kicks in sometimes. Sunday was the day for it to kick in for me.

I got to the shipper where I was going to pick up this load of huge paper rolls (they stand about 9 feet tall and are about 6 feet in diameter and are very heavy). The trailer was dirty with trash and debris from past loads, so I got in the trailer to sweep it out. I had my flashlight, and when I got to the nose of the trailer, there were some places where small puddles of water had collected in the corners. It had been raining heavily the past few days in South Carolina, and it was obvious the water came from a leak, though I couldn't see any holes or gashes (part of the regular inspection of a trailer is looking for those, and I hadn't seen them when I picked up the trailer; and I also didn't notice the water in the front of the trailer – it couldn't be seen without getting up in the front of the trailer, which I had not done when picking it up). The shipper wouldn't load the trailer with a leak, of course.

So I got on the phone with Schneider's weekend support shift (notorious among drivers for long wait times and incompetent help) to tell them what was going on and find out what they wanted me to do. As I was sitting there for 30 minutes on hold (not an unusual occurrence), I saw the plans I had made for getting pretty far up the road evaporate.

Puff.

I was told to take the trailer to the Charlotte OC, 90 miles away, and leave it so the maintenance shop could repair it. Then, I was to go about 20 miles over to Holly Hill, North Carolina, to pick up another empty trailer, and return to Bennettsville to be loaded.

That was not a problem in and of itself because I was being paid for those miles to move the trailers, and miles are miles are miles. If I'm rolling, I'm generally seeing dollar signs coming from it.

There were two other problems, however, that were coming up for me: (1) by the time I drove on all the little two lane highways, little towns with speed traps, scores of traffic lights, and tons of traffic (especially for a Sunday), to Charlotte, Holly Hill and then back to Bennettsville, and finally got loaded, I would be close to my 14 hour limit for the day. And there is nothing around Bennettsville as far as a place a truck can park for 10 hours. (2) My route up to Pennsylvania was largely on US highways and state highways, with only about 200 miles of interstate going up I-81 through Virginia. With 600 miles to go, in the rain, it would be impossible to legally make it in one day.

So, when I got to Charlotte, I called the weekend shift at Schneider central command once more to try to get a solution (my solution was to move the pick-up or the delivery time back a day). The person I spoke with told me they wouldn't change the pick-up or delivery time. When I told her I'd be at the shipper out of hours to legally run, and nowhere close to go, she suggested that I got down to Florence, South Carolina, almost 30 miles away, to a truck stop there. That was not a practical option, because that would have put me even further away from where I was going.

So I was basically on my own. That's not a good feeling for a truck driver to have.

I got the empty trailer in Holly Hill and trudged back to Bennettsville. I planned to ask the place I was picking up (a paper company) if I could park on their property to take my break. If they said “no”, I didn't know what to do but drive over to Florence and see if there was any parking left that late in the day (there probably would have been at the time I would have gotten there).

Thankfully, the security guard at the gate told me it would be no problem if I parked for my break on their property (basically on the side of the large driveway leading up the front gate, which had plenty of room). Relief. One problem solved.

I got loaded with no problems, and I didn't go over my 14 hour limit for the day.

I still had the problem of having to go 600 miles on horrible roads (as far as speed and traffic were concerned) in the rain the next day.

I woke up early the next morning (this past Monday) and started as soon as I could legally. I decided to do the best I could, and when I got to a good spot to stop on I-81 in Virginia, I'd be able to more accurately gauge my progress and the possibility of getting the load delivered on time (legally and safely). I stopped up in Greenville, Virginia, to scale the load (I was so close to the legal limit, I thought I might be overweight on one of my axles, but I was 200 pounds under, so it was okay) at a Pilot truck stop there. I had made better time than I thought I would, but it was still going to be close.

By the time I got to I-70 in Maryland, I realized I wasn't going to be able to make it. I still had 150 miles to go, and only 1 and a half hours of driving time left out of my 11 hours. No way I could make the Lonesome Dove Xpress average over 80 miles per hour.

So I called my new regular dispatcher. A little background: when Terry and I quit teaming in December, I was assigned a new dispatch team based in Charlotte. The woman with whom I dealt most of the time (the few times I talked to her) was new, and it wasn't long before she left, leaving me to deal with her immediate supervisor, a man named Michael who had a personality and manner that was very brusque and (to me) arrogant. I just didn't like him, but it wouldn't matter most of the time unless I needed to interact with him directly, a very rare event. When I got back to the truck after my time in Rome, I had a message on my satellite unit that told me that I had been assigned to another dispatch team.

I called the new team to introduce myself, and talked to a lady who was very friendly, and I could tell I would like this board better already. The person I will deal with most of the time, Steve, has proven to remind me of the guy Terry and I dealt with in Memphis, Julian (a stellar member of Schneider's team in West Memphis). He has been great, and I love being on this new team.

So I called Monday afternoon to explain the situation, and also to let him know that I had tried to solve the problem over the weekend with the support folks to no avail. I told him I would need to push out the delivery time and the reasons why. He was very supportive and understanding and told me to do whatever I needed to do to be safe and legal.

So I sent in a satellite message telling them I'd deliver the next morning as soon as I legally could get there. Problem solved.

I stopped for the night in Breezewood, Pennsylvania, at a truck stop I'd never stopped at before. It's a TA truck stop (not usually my favorite place to shut down), but this one was very nice and had lots of nice facilities for drivers. I found a lounge upstairs (designated “Quiet Lounge for Professional Drivers” by the sign outside the door), comfortable, large, and quiet. There were hundreds of drivers at this place (it's very big), but there was no one else in there. Perfect! I spent some good time in there on my laptop, reading, and just relaxing outside of the truck.

I was on the road by 2:30 yesterday morning and delivered the load an hour before I told them I'd be there. I was unloaded in less than 30 minutes, and then drove over to Blawnox, Pennsylvania, just north of Pittsburgh, to pick up the load I have now that is going to Macclenny, Florida, just west of Jacksonville. After the harrowing from the last load, this load was a welcome one. Plenty of time and I'm going down south again.

I don't mind going from north to south and back again (the bad winter weather is pretty much gone, and I love the still-cool temperatures up north), but I already miss Texas and the west. It's been a while since I've had a nice load out west. It will come eventually. I just have to be patient.

At this moment, I'm shut down at a Flying J truck stop in Columbia, South Carolina. I have about 320 miles or so to get to Macclenny tomorrow. I drove through some beautiful mountains in West Virginia (I have not seen a place in WV that is not beautiful) today, through mostly sunny skies and nice running. A great day for driving and being on the road, home.

Terry. I have not spoken to Terry in about a week (we don't talk everyday when he's not on the road). He comes back on the road today, so I am looking forward to rejoining our regular conversation. I'll let you know how he has been doing when I do.

Reading, Listening and Watching. I regularly update what I've been up to besides driving in this life I live on the road. If it doesn't interest you, you can always move on to something else.

Books. I think last time I mentioned what I was reading, I was reading the excellent Annie Dillard book Pilgrim At Tinker Creek. Excellent book, and provoked lots of thought.

After finishing that, I read the Anne Tyler book Accidental Tourist . I like everything I've read by Anne Tyler, especially Breathing Lessons, which I read back in the 1980's. Tourist was enjoyable as well. It's about a man, Macon Leary, who just goes through life haphazardly, letting life happen to him, carry him along, and his journey to get to the point when he begins to take responsibility for his life, to make choices, and begin to live his life. The theme resonated with me on several deep levels, because I've been on such a journey myself the past few years.

I'm currently reading, primarily, the Journals of Lewis and Clark , a book I found at a used bookstore when I was in Rome (thanks Mama for taking me there). I love reading journals and memoirs, and this one is fascinating, detailing the journey of Lewis and Clark across a new nation from 1804-1806. I'm almost done with it.

I'm reading a few other things, a couple of books on philosophy, some things online, but those are more casual pursuits, taken at a more leisurely pace. I usually have one thing I focus on more than the others, and that's usually what I talk about here in this blog.

XM radio. Lately, I been listening to a channel on XM that features various audio books, and I'm loving it. I haven't really listened to it all that much before, because every time I tuned it, they were in the middle of something, and I hate picking things up in the middle. In my methodical way of thinking and arranging things in order, I don't like coming into the middle of anything, especially a movie or something.

But I came in one day when they were reading a history of Charlemagne, who ruled the Franks in the ninth century. And I was hooked. Currently, I'm listening to reading from such books as these: Age of Innocence, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, March of the 10,000, Great Expectations, The Poison Study, and a couple of others. It's very cool to be driving down the highway reading a book, learning, being entertained, and being challenged to think.

There is also an excellent program on the weekends on XM Public Radio that Terry first told me about, This American Life . An awesome show I'd recommend to any of you. Click the link for more info.

Video. Last time I talked about what I was watching, I was in the middle of Lonesome Dove. Since coming back on the road after being in Rome, I have been watching the following: some episodes of The Rifleman I had recorded over a year ago when I was still living in Rome, from a 24 hour marathon on the Encore Western cable network. Excellent show I've always loved, and I enjoyed watching several hours of shows. I had also recorded Vertigo about the same time, and finally got around to watching it again. I always enjoy Alfred Hitchcock movies. Currently, I'm watching the first season DVD's of The Big Valley , which has always been one of my favorite westerns. It is worth watching for the fact that lovely Linda Evans is in it, as well as the superlative Barbara Stanwyck, one of my favorite actresses.

The end. There is always more to write, but I will save more for later, on down the road a ways. Until then, be well, live your life, making choices and taking responsibility.

Until next time . . . keep the wheels rollin' . . .

Allan

Going Home

Going home. Last time I wrote, I was on my way to Georgia to visit my family.

I rented a car in Atlanta, drove to Dallas to get my car, and then drove my car back to Georgia. I was able to get a ride to pick up and return the rental car on both ends from Schneider, so that saved me some money on taxi fares.

On my way from Dallas to Rome, I was able to stop in Blossom, Texas, and see my good friend Billy. I spent the night and left early the next morning (a Thursday). Billy and I really enjoyed our time visiting, and Billy, as always, entertained me with stories from his family and life. He is a great storyteller and has a phenomenal memory for detail. And, he recently celebrated a birthday. Happy Birthday, Billy!

I got to Rome that Thursday, and was able to see most everyone in my family and a couple of good friends. And I got to meet the newest member of the family: my Mama's cat, Baxter.

This was my first time in Rome for a visit since last October. I had enough time to just relax and not feel rushed like I do so many times.

I got to see my grandmother, Nanny. She has grown much more forgetful and confused as symptoms of her dementia become more pronounced. And when I called her earlier this week, only a couple of days after seeing her, she asked when I was coming to visit. I mentioned being there just days before, and she had forgotten all about it.

But, even in her battle for clarity of thought, she still manages to be hilarious many times. She's always been a great teller of tales, an entertainer who always kept those of us around her laughing and smiling. We were at my sister's house last Sunday morning, and I was getting things ready to take Nanny up to my aunt's house. Nanny couldn't find her glasses. My sister finally found them, and brought them to her. Nanny said, “Oh thank you, honey! What would I do without y'all?” I asked Nanny: “What would we do without you, Nanny?” She said, without hesitation: “Well, I don't know, but you better start plannin' somethin' pretty quick!” Everyone just laughed – it was like old times, sort of.

I enjoyed special time with my Mama, my sister Cindy (whom I am fortunate to count as one of my best friends), my Daddy and his family, cousins, my niece Paige, and two of my good friends, Sam and Tim. Every moment was special.

To everyone I saw who reads this, I want you to know that I enjoyed our visits and wish they could have been longer. I am already looking forward to my next visit and our next time together.

Finally, it was time to leave Rome and family, and go back home. Home to my truck, to the Lonesome Dove Xpress, to the road.

Growing up in Rome, I always thought that wherever I lived, it would always be home , the touchstone of my life, a cornerstone of continuity no matter what else changed in my world. And for a long time, that was true.

All the years I lived in Dallas, Texas, and Chicago, both places that I loved, they never replaced the idea that my home , the real roots of my life, were in a house in Rome, Georgia, where I grew up in large part – my Nanny's house.

When I met Charlotte, married, and we moved to Florida, my idea of home was altered. Home became wherever Charlotte and I were.

When Charlotte and I divorced, my life on every level, in every particle, was uprooted, and I was birthed into chaos. I sought comfort and familiarity in those old notions of home, family, connections, even as I took to the road to start driving a truck.

Then, in December, 2005, when I felt a desire to help care for Nanny, when she couldn't safely live alone any longer, I moved back to Rome, to the house that was home for much of my life, and drove for a local company in Rome.

After 15 months, it was clear that my role in being able to help with Nanny was ended, and I realized that home wasn't where it used to be. I was physically there, around my family, in the house I thought of most when I thought home.

I didn't know where home was, but I was ready to move on, and Terry and I started teaming, as you know.

When Terry and I quit teaming last December, and I started driving solo again, I finally realized: I am home. Here. In this truck, on this road, living this life, doing what I love, finally at peace with who I am (and who I am not), content in this life that I have chosen, in large part because it is what I have chosen.

So here I am back on the road, on my way to Memphis, Tennessee, with a load I picked up in cold, snowy Buffalo, New York, yesterday. And every mile marker, every turn of my 18 wheels, the whine of the tires on the pavement, the roar of the engine, every wave from other truckers, every smile from pretty girls in passing cars, or servers in truck stop restaurants, every voice on the phone from far away of the people I love, every shift of gears from 2 to 10, every moment spent reading, writing, listening to XM radio or music – all of it – says: “Welcome home.”

It's nice to visit, but it's always good to go home. And I am here.

Until next time . . . keep the wheels rollin' . . .

Allan

One Year Later

One Year Later. This blog celebrates its first anniversary today. I can't believe that it's already been a year that I've been writing here. It has been a good year. I hope that fact has been reflected in the words I've posted here.

The most significant thing that happened since I began this blog is that Terry and I are now driving solo.

I started this blog mostly because I'd been wanting to experiment with writing one for a while, and starting to team with Terry, going back on the road with Schneider, and entering a new phase of my life seemed a good impetus from which to spring. It's still a mostly private affair, with very few regular readers – mostly family, friends, and other truckers.

The blog has evolved from more of a description of places and events to thoughts and ideas – at least, that's how it's seemed from my end.

Whether you have been reading since the beginning or are new to the Lonesome Dove Xpress, welcome. I hope you keep coming back.

On my way to Georgia. I'm currently shut down at a Flying J truck stop (my preference because most of them have tables where you can plug in laptops; most other truck stops require you to sit in the restaurant area in order to use a laptop, if they even have that much access) in Jackson, Mississippi, on my way to Lagrange, Georgia.

I'll get to Atlanta tomorrow sometime, park my truck, go get my rental car, drive to Dallas, pick up my car, drive back to Georgia (stopping to see my friend Billy, if he's feeling better by then), and then enjoying some days with my family. I'll come back on the road on Wednesday, March 26. I'm looking forward to it.

Last time I wrote, I was in Florida, remembering.

From Lakeland, I went up to Alachua, to a Dollar General distribution center, and picked up a load going to Zanesville, Ohio. After picking up my load, I was able to stop in Lake City and have dinner with my friend Van. We were able to go to Texas Roadhouse Grill, which was wonderful mainly because it wasn't a truck stop restaurant.

From Zanesville, I went up to Delaware, just north of Columbus, and picked up a load that took me to The Great State of Texas, to Mount Vernon, in east Texas.

Texas is, by far, my favorite place to go in my truck. I lived in Dallas for almost 9 years in my 20's, and loved living there. I have never stopped loving Texas. There is some almost-ethereal quality about the place, the people that I love. There is an attitude of pride and independence in Texas that I have found nowhere else.

From Mount Vernon, I went up the road about 40 miles to Paris, where I picked up the load I've got now that's going to Lagrange.

I called Billy when I got to Paris yesterday afternoon to see if we could meet for lunch or supper, but he was feeling poorly, so we didn't get to see one another.

I have enjoyed being in generally warmer and clearer weather than I've been in for a while. I've been in some rain, but nothing major.

That's about it for this trip on the Xpress. I mostly wanted to write to mark the first anniversary of the blog.

Thanks for keeping me company on the road.

Until next time . . . keep the wheels rollin' . . .

Allan

In Florida With Georgia On My Mind

Hello from Florida! I am currently just north of Lakeland, Florida, after delivering a load of bottles I picked up in Pennsylvania to a juice plant of some kind down here. My delivery appointment was so late, I just told them I'd be available in the morning. As of right now, I don't have my next load yet, so I don't know where I'm heading to next.

It is so warm out in the truck right now, especially with Daylight Savings Time now in play, that I retreated inside the truck stop to do some reading and catch up on e-mail and blog reading, do some banking, and some other things. I'm thankful for the cool air in here.

It's not horribly hot outside (certainly not as hot as this summer will be), but it's still too stuffy to be comfortable in the truck without idling and running the air conditioner.

Since last time. After I delivered the load I had to Charlotte last Monday, I got a load to take down to relay in Beech Island, South Carolina, which is just across the state line from Augusta, Georgia.

From Beech Island, I picked up a load at a Kimberly-Clark (the folks who make Kleenex and hundreds of other things) that was going up to Pittston, Pennsylvania (I was just there, it seems), right next to Scranton.

From Pittston, I went north up to Elmira, New York (a beautiful area of New York State just west of Binghamton), to pick up this load of bottles I delivered here to Lakeland this afternoon.

And here I sit.

Terry update. On my way up to Pittston with the KC load, once again I was able to see Terry, in Wytheville, Virginia. He was on his way down to Atlanta, and from there he was going to Arkansas for some time off. We didn't have much time, but it was enjoyable. We had lunch.

For quite a few weeks, Terry has been looking for an opening at Schneider that would let him have a more predictable schedule, and possibly more time off so that he and Kelly can work on furthering their relationship. Schneider has a nice program called Home Run in which three drivers share two trucks; each driver stays out on the road for two weeks, and then is home for a week. The primary requirement, of course, is that the drivers all live close to a central location.

Each time Terry has tried to explore such an option out of either West Memphis or Little Rock, there has been no success. But last week, in a moment of inspiration, he decided to look at the job postings for the first time in quite a while. There it was: an opening for a Home Run team out of West Memphis – just what he had been looking for!

He called the number for information about the situation, and he is supposed to start his first rotation on that team this Wednesday.

And, so, the Lonesome Dove Xpress rolls on for Terry.

Books and vids. I seem to have started a regular update in these blog ramblings (quite by chance) on what I'm reading and watching. Quite trivial information, I realize, but those things comprise quite a large place in the small universe of things available for me to do when I'm shut down at a truck stop. And, since it's part of the lifestyle I'm living inside my little orange world, it seems appropriate to write about it as the mood strikes.

I finished the Peter Jenkins book I was reading, Along the Edge of America , and enjoyed it very much.

Since then, I have started reading a group of books that I bought several months ago up in Michigan, at a truck stop just south of Detroit (called the Detroiter Truck Stop) that had hundreds of books of every sort (mostly old) set up for sale on about 20 long folding tables. I looked for a long time, and ended up getting quite a few books for not very much money. They are all in a stack with the other books I have in the truck, just waiting to be read.

The first book I pulled out, and which I have already finished, was a book of short stories by Andre Dubus called The Times Are Never So Bad. I had never read anything by Dubus, though I had heard of him before from somewhere. This collection started with a novella, “The Pretty Girl”, and finished with several short stories, all of which were well written and engaging. I really liked them, especially the novella, and the stories: “A Father's Story”, “Leslie”, and one more about a young, unassuming woman who helps her boyfriend rob a drug store, and what happens afterward. I just can't remember the title. But they are all good, and this book guarantees that I will read more of Dubus. He passed away in 1999.

Currently I'm reading Annie Dillard's first book of prose, Pilgrim At Tinker Creek , written back in 1974, and for which she received a Pulitzer prize. It's been a long time since I read anything by Dillard, and I'm enjoying this Walden -type book immensely. I'm not too far into it yet, but it's already captured my interest.

Of course, I'm not always reading when I'm not driving. Sometimes, I'm doing what I'm doing now – writing, journaling, reading e-mail, reading blogs, doing online research, playing games on my laptop.

And most of the other time I'm awake, I'm watching videos or listening to XM – very rarely regular TV, although when I can get a FOX station I try to watch American Idol when it's on.

I finished the first season of Everybody Loves Raymond , and just last night, finished the first season of The Sopranos. What a change of pace from ELR to Tony Soprano and the grit of that excellent series. I loved it as much as I thought I would. Very intense, but the acting was superb, the photography was a work of art, and the music (when present) was outstanding. They used music sparingly, but in a way that reminds me of one of my favorite shows from the '80's, Miami Vice. Many times, the music in Vice became another one of the characters – my favorite episodes in that vein were when they used Phil Collins songs.

I enjoyed it so much, I've already ordered the next two seasons, even though I have tons of others stuff I haven't watched yet. Sometimes, you just have to live on the edge.

I think I've got The Departed cued up next. I saw that in the theater when it came out (I was still living in Rome), but I'm looking forward to seeing it again. Jack Nicholson, Matt Damon, and Leonardo DiCaprio are all outstanding in it.

This truck-driving life. I know that most every entry I detail where I've been since the last time, usually as more of a list of places than anything else. But, it occurs to me to write an experience from the past few weeks that fleshes out with some finer tones some of the things that can happen as I'm driving from place to place.

The last time I was going to Illinois, just south of Chicago, I had stopped because of weather about 550 miles from Joliet. That meant that I had at least 10 hours of driving if I could average 55 miles per hour. The legal limit for driving is 11 hours. And the weather the next day was potentially going to be messy again. In other words, it was going to be close to be able to get the load delivered on time.

I knew I would have to shut down right after delivering the load to Joliet. There was a truck stop not too far up the road – about 10 miles west on I-80. So I planned on going there and shutting down. I thought about going back to the Schneider OC in Gary, Indiana, about 40 miles east of Joliet, but I had to come right back to Joliet the next morning to pick up my next load, so I wanted to get closer if I could.

I made good time the next day, and delivered the load with no problems. I had exactly one hour of drive time left, and I was also close to the limit on my 14 hour day (at the end of 14 hours, you have shut down even if you have only driven 30 minutes).

Go down the road to the Pilot Truck Stop. It's about 6:30 local time. There is not one single place to park. It is totally full.

The clock is ticking. To me, it sounds like the heartbeat Poe describes in “The Tell-Tale Heart”.

There are no other truck stops close by. I can't park at the Dollar Tree distribution center where I just delivered (I checked).

If I drive the 50 miles back to Gary, I will find a place to park, but I will bust my 14 hour clock, and maybe my 11 hour limit also. Not good. And, it means that I will be going 80 miles out of route to get back to Joliet in the morning.

Schneider keeps up with how many miles I drive, and if the miles I drive are a certain percentage over the miles they calculate for a load, then it affects my quarterly bonus. And the loaded miles on this load were only 43, since I was only taking the load back to Gary to relay to another driver. That means 130 miles (give or take) for a 43 mile load.

All this stuff flashes through my mind as I sort through my options.

The ticking grows louder. tick-tick-TICK-TICK – T – I – C – K

I didn't feel like I had any other safe options, so I chose to go back to Gary. I was tired, irritated, stressed, and knew I needed to shut down as soon as I could. And, of course, the recriminations of “if I had known this was going to happen, I would have just gone back to Gary in the first place.”

Made it to Gary. Exactly 11 hours of driving. But I had busted my 14 hour clock.

At least I was safe, in a place that's as close to home as I'm going to have outside of my truck on the road, and I could unclench and relax after unwinding for a little while.

The ticking finally stopped.

Georgia on my mind. I've finally put in for my time off in Georgia, and will also be able to bring my car from Dallas to Georgia at the same time. I'm shutting down in Atlanta on the 18 ^th , renting a car to take to Dallas, and then bringing my car back to Georgia. On the way, I'm planning on stopping to see my friend Billy, the Big Wheel From Dallas. (That's a joke only Billy will understand, should he ever read this entry.)

The last time I was in Georgia to visit my family was October of last year. I'm really looking forward to some time with people I love, and just being out of the truck for a few days.

But at the end of the time, I'll be ready to get back home to the truck, refreshed. I guess when I stop being ready to get back in the truck, I'll find something else to do.

Thanks for the memories. Every time I come to Florida, especially if I come through Orlando (as I did this morning), I think of people I know here – some of whom I have loved, some I have worked with, and some I am blessed to still count as friends.

Charlotte, of course, comes to mind; my mom-in-law; David (with whom I used to work at Schwab in Orlando; we were both stockbrokers and then senior account administrators there, and he is the only one of my friends from those days I still keep in touch with – or with whom I keep in touch, if you have your grammar-check antennae up); Faye (with whom I used to work at the Health Department – which I started calling the “Hellth Dept” just before I left – and who has proven to be a good friend since those days, keeping me company on the road with regular e-mails, which I appreciate).

Memories, unbidden, rose up through the music I had going on XM, past my concentration on I-4 traffic in Orlando and around Disney, parted the curtain, and took the stage.

My memories of 10 years living in Central Florida are mostly good, tinged and subdued by the intensely painful memories from the last three years I lived here, as I recovered from illness and saw the spiral downward of my marriage, ending in an unfortunate divorce.

The first memory, a happy one, and prompted when I saw the small number of buildings that comprise downtown Orlando, is from the time Charlotte and I came down to visit in September, 1994. We were engaged, still living in Chicago at JPUSA, and considering moving to Florida, mostly because Charlotte felt like she wanted her time at JPUSA to be over, and her parents were down in Central Florida.

The first full day we were in Florida on that visit, we decided to drive down to Orlando, 30 miles away, and just check things out. Neither of us had ever been there. So we drove down US 441, and knew that according to the map, we'd pass just west of downtown when US 441 turned into Orange Blossom Trail.

When we'd driven about as far as it was supposed to be, we looked around for the city, downtown. We couldn't find it. Charlotte got out the map, and we realized that we should be right there. According to the streets we were crossing, we were about to pass downtown – it should be right here, but where?

Neither one of us could believe we were downtown Orlando – where is the city? Where are the buildings?

Then, it hit me. This was it. This was all the city we were going to see of Orlando. There was nothing more.

Charlotte and I both cracked up laughing when we realized that after being in Chicago for several years, our perceptions about what a city was, what it looked like, had changed. That was a running joke of ours every time we would go to Orlando in following years – where is it?

Of course, after living in small-town Lake County for ten years, Orlando became a much larger city to us, and our perspective shifted yet again.

And today, as I passed through, I laughed to myself when the memory came – and wondered, for old times' sake, where it was.

I didn't have time on this load to stop and visit any of the people I know down here in Central Florida. And, in most respects, that's probably good.

The flashbacks that started in Orlando just confirmed that.

I'm not ready to drive down that road yet.

Until next time . . . keep the wheels rollin' . . .

Allan

Enjoying Warm Weather in Knoxville

Currently. I am at the Flying J Truck Stop in Knoxville, Tennessee, on my way to Charlotte, North Carolina, in the morning. The load I'm on currently has been a little crazy in ways. More on that later.

Since it's been over two weeks since I last wrote, this promises to be a long entry. Reader beware! I hope you decide to stick around anyway.

Postscript to Valentine's Day. I enjoyed writing the last entry, especially the musing about my Ghosts of Valentines Past, immensely. I knew I wanted to write about it, but, as happens many times when one is writing, it sort of took on a life of its own as I was writing, and went in directions I had not expected. I didn't know I was going to write about some of those things – they were just there in memory at the moment, and came through my fingers to the keyboard.

Reliving some of those memories, thinking about those girls and women, was cathartic for some reason. I think that's the first time I'd written about some of those experiences; certainly the first time I'd written about them in that way.

I appreciate the comments, e-mails, and phone calls about that entry. I'm glad it touched a chord with some of you. I felt good about the writing as writing as much as anything I've written in a long time. I'm always writing, but sometimes writing takes on a different character, a life of its own. That's how that blog entry was for me.

That night, pretty late, when I went back to the truck after writing that last blog entry, I had a voicemail from Charlotte. I called her back, hoping she'd still be awake (she was) and we had a nice, long talk. She said that Valentine's Day had been hard for her, work was very stressful, she was lonely, and it helped her to hear a friendly voice. It helped me too.

Voice from the past. One of the people who commented on the last entry, to my great surprise, was my old friend Marty from JPUSA days. I have no idea how in the world he even found the blog. It must be 12 years since I last corresponded with Marty, or much of anyone else from JPUSA. But I was glad to hear from him.

Marty and I were both single brothers at JPUSA. Marty had been there for a while before I arrived in 1991. We used to walk down the street to get gyros sometimes. And, when Charlotte and I started “ happening” in 1993, Marty was also dating a friend of Charlotte's, so we would occasionally go out together. Several times we rented a video and watched it together.

Marty was one of the main reasons Charlotte even knew about JPUSA. Back in 1990, Charlotte was still living in southeastern Missouri, where she grew up, around Doniphan, in Ripley County. She was recently divorced, and really needing some space and time to heal those wounds.

JPUSA owned some property at that time in Ripley County, a place known as “The Farm”. It was used for vacations and retreats for groups of JPUSA's from Chicago. In the summer and winter when it was either too hot or too cold to be used much, JPUSA would have two or three single brothers stay on the farm to take care of things, repair things, build things, and just keep an eye on things.

One of those times in 1990, Marty was one of the brothers there. They would visit churches in the area sometimes, and one Sunday they visited the church Charlotte attended at that time. They got to know each other, and Charlotte decided that getting away from Missouri to a place where she'd have an environment that could help her become whole again was what she needed to do.

One of the coolest memories I have from days at JPUSA is from the summer, 1992. I was able to go on tour with Resurrection Band on their 20 ^th Anniversary Tour up to Canada that summer as part of the road crew (I mostly drove the RV the band used). Marty was part of that crew also. It was one of the most special times of my life.

Anyway, it was weird to be writing about people from my past on Valentine's Day, and then hear from someone who was a part of that past that I never expected. Very cool.

Since last time. When I wrote last time, I was stopped in Jackson, Mississippi, on my way from Dallas to Alachua, Florida. I had mentioned hoping to be able to see my Daddy and my friend Van, who both lived on the route I was taking down I-10.

The next day, Friday, I stopped at a truck stop off I-10 not too far from where Daddy lives, and he was able to come pick me up. I went to his house, saw everyone, and then we all went out to eat. It wasn't much time, but it was enjoyable. That was the first time I'd been to his house in about two years.

Saturday morning, I was also able to stop by and see Van for a little while. We went to a little cafe in town and had a nice breakfast together.

I love it when it works out to see people I know all over the place as I drive around the country.

I will just list the various places I've been in the last couple of weeks, and then write about anything that sticks out in my mind afterward. It's funny how many times driving down the road I'll think of something I want to write about. And many times, the thought slips away with the next mile.

Be thankful for that. If I wrote about everything I intended to write, the entries would be even longer. {smile}

So, here's the list: from Florida --> Charlotte, North Carolina --> Spartanburg, South Carolina --> Carlisle, PA --> Hazelton, PA --> Tobyhanna, PA --> Sutherland, VA --> Richmond, VA --> Greeneville, TN --> Jefferson City, TN --> Hilliard, OH --> Columbus, OH --> Pittston, PA --> Joliet, IL --> Gary, IN --> Elgin, IL --> Pulaski, TN --> Charlotte, NC (which is where I'm headed early in the morning)

A couple of those loads were actually going to Canada, but I relayed them (one in Hilliard, OH and one in Carlisle, PA) so another driver (or team) actually took them into Canada.

Most of the last couple of weeks after being in Florida, I've been in winter weather of one kind or another. Where I'm at now, here in Knoxville, it must be about 70 degrees outside, and the sun is shining. A very nice change.

But, I can say this: I would take the worst cold of the winter, even from the plains of North Dakota, or the mountains of Montana, against the heat that will come with summer. I'd much rather be cold than hot. Not that I love being cold – it's just that I'd prefer cold to hot any time.

Well, I've been on the road, either teaming or solo, several months without taking any time off to see my family and friends in Georgia. The last time I was in Rome was in October last year. Part of that has been the transition time Terry and I were in going from teaming to solo driving, and the fact that my car is still in Dallas.

One of my top agenda items (not that it's a terribly long list out here on the road) for March is to take several days (the most they'll let me take – four or five days) to visit everyone in Georgia. I'm hoping that I can work it out so that the time to drive my car from Dallas to Atlanta (which will involve a rental car on one end of that leg) will not count against my time off, since I had planned on moving my car when Terry and I quit teaming, but it didn't work out that way, through no fault of mine or Terry's. But, in any case, I'm looking forward to some uninterrupted time off the road to spend with people I love.

One thing that has increased my sense of urgency is the fact that my Nanny (my grandmother on my Daddy's side) is declining quite a bit faster than she has in the past year or so. I talk to her most days, and she still recognizes my voice, but we never have more than just a basic “how are you feeling today” conversation.

In addition to my family, I'm looking forward to seeing my good friends Sam and Tim. Shout-outs to you guys! I appreciate both of you more than you know.

Terry. In the past two weeks, I've been able to see Terry twice. All with no planning on our parts – we just happened to be passing each other going opposite directions two different times. Once in Wytheville, Virginia, and before that in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Is that cool or what?

We talk every day or every other day. It's helpful when you are dealing with some of the stress of driving to talk to someone who understands empathetically what you are going through.

I know those of you who have been following this blog for a while want to know what Terry's doing these days. If I am a little vague and general about it, it's because some of what's going on with Terry is personal, and I'd rather have him talk about that than me.

What I can say is that Terry is doing well (and this is stuff he's shared with most of his family and friends, so it's not private), he's making progress to shift his life more around his relationship with Kelly (hi Kelly if you ever read this for some reason!), and relocating to Arkansas. He is still driving solo with Schneider, but there is a possibility that he may try to get a job that will let him be around more consistently instead of just every two or three weeks.

We both miss our teaming days, and already see that time as one of the highlights of our 20-year friendship.

That said, for this season in my life, driving solo and living this trucking lifestyle in all its facets is exactly what I need to be doing right now. And, for the most part, I'm loving it as much as anything I've ever done or lived.

Books and Video. Last time I wrote, I was in the middle of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead . It was the first time I'd read that particular book, and the first time I'd read anything by Rand in years. Great plot, very thought-provoking, challenging. And well worthwhile, like anything by Rand.

The next thing I pulled out of my book bag was an Ann Rule book my mom let me borrow, Too Late To Say Goodbye about the dentist in the Atlanta area who killed an ex-girlfriend and his wife, years apart. Like all of Rule's books, it was well-written and fascinating. If you like true crime or things like Cold Case Files on A&E, you'd probably enjoy reading this book. After reading it, I felt like I knew the victims, Dolly Hearn and Jenn Barber Corbin, and I admire both of their families for the courage they demonstrated in such tragic circumstances.

At the moment, among other things, I'm almost finished with an older Peter Jenkins book, Along the Edge of America , about his journey along the Gulf Coast living in various places along the way. If you like travel stories, it's very good. He has an engaging writing style.

Two weeks ago, I had put in the DVD of Elizabeth , starring Cate Blanchett. I finally watched it, and loved it. The rest of the cast was outstanding also. I'm looking forward to watching the next movie, Elizabeth: The Golden Age soon. I don't have it yet, so I'll have to order it.

Right now, I'm watching the first season of Everybody Loves Raymond. I never watched it much while it was in prime time, but have seen it some in reruns, and always laugh. I'm enjoying it very much, and looking forward to watching more.

Peter Boyle, who plays the father-in-law, is one of my favorite character actors – his character in The Dream Team , also with Michael Keaton, is one of my favorites of all time. He plays one of four patients from a mental hospital on an outing to New York City. He thinks he's God. Since I've thought the same thing several times in my life, I can identify with that character. It's incredibly hilarious in both instances.

When I finish ELR , I'm planning to start the first season of The Sopranos. I've only seen one full episode of the show (it was on one time when Terry and I were staying in a motel somewhere and they had HBO there), and am looking forward to starting that.

In addition to books and movies which keep me entertained, challenged, thinking, learning and exploring while I'm on the road (which is all the time), I love my XM satellite radio and my huge music collection (I use my Palm Pilot LifeDrive as an mp3 player, so I can rotate my library of about 8,000 songs according to whatever kind of musical mood I'm in at the time).

I especially love the politics, news and talk on XM – it makes the miles go by enjoyably. I listen to the XM 130 POTUS channel as much as anything these days – 24/7 coverage of the Presidential race. As much as any political junkie can tolerate. I listen to C-SPAN a lot also.

And one cool thing on the weekends is that on Saturdays on the 70's channel, they replay American Top 40 with Kasey Casem with no commercials. This week was from February of 1977. And they do the same thing on Sundays with the 80's. Talk about bringing back memories – or reminding me just how out of touch with popular music I was in my teens; if it didn't come from the Baptist Hymnal, the choir of my church, or other Christian music, I pretty much didn't hear about it. I thought the other stuff was evil.

But if you want to know anything about Christian rock and roll, blues or metal music from the 80's and 90's, I'm your guy. {crickets chirping into the silence}

I still enjoy that music. In addition to all the stuff I missed the first time around.

Larry Norman, so long. Talking about Christian music from the 80's and 90's reminded me that one of the pioneers and great voices of Christian rock music from its earliest days (the late 60's) passed away recently. Larry Norman influences Christian pop music even to this day, and he will be missed. If you've ever sung or heard “I Wish We'd All Been Ready” , you have been touched by Larry Norman.

All of Larry Norman's music is great to me, but my favorite songs of his have to be “Why Should the Devil Have All the Good Music?” and “Why Don't You Look Into Jesus”.

Cool! While looking at some other links I found a link to an old video of Larry doing “Why Don't You Look Into Jesus” on Youtube. The volume isn't very loud, but it's still a decent version of the song.

Writing about this prompted me to switch what I was listening to (some of the complete Boston collection I have) to some old stuff by Larry Norman. Good stuff. In both cases.

The crazy load I'm on now. Yesterday, I delivered to a Frito-Lay plant in Pulaski, Tennessee. The next load I had was to pick up a relay and take it Charlotte, North Carolina. This morning, as I'm going to pick up an empty trailer to take to the place I'm picking up the load, I get a message that says the driver had a family emergency and instead of picking up the load up in Clarksville, I'm picking it up in Chattanooga.

No problem. Maybe, even on short notice, I can manage to visit some family after that since I would have gone down I-75 to Atlanta, and then took I-85 north to Charlotte.

Well, not long after that, I get another message that instead of taking the load to Charlotte, now I'm to take it up to Knoxville to relay it so another driver can take it to Charlotte because he's due for time at home and lives in that area.

So, I'm 10 miles from Knoxville, and get another message: the driver (who is an owner-operator contracted to Schneider) didn't want to wait, and just left without waiting on the load. So I'm back to taking it to Charlotte. Except I'm going about 100 miles longer to do it.

Of course, by the time I get back out to the truck, things could have changed again. But, whatever changes at this point will have to wait til in the morning to get any attention from me.

Those kinds of changes don't happen every day, but they are not uncommon either.

Welcome to my world.

The end. Well, so ends another little visit between you and me. I'm glad you are here. I hope you enjoy our connection here in some way as much as I do. Let me hear from you sometime.

Until next time . . . keep the wheels rollin' . . .

Allan