I just dropped Roger off at a motel here in town. I was kinda like Bruce Willis at the end of The Last Boyscout; I danced a little jig down the sidewalk on the way back to the truck alone.
..and whatever happened to Taylor Negron? He was one funny fuck. "I'll show your daughter what a hot date I am." Classic. He was great as the snarky postman in Better Off Dead, too.
Anyway... without going into a fullblown story because it's late and I'm tired and cranky, after leaving Redding the other night we had to actually chain-up to go through Shasta on I-5.... uggg. California requires EIGHT CHAINS on semi-tractors. Roger and I were soaked from the rain at the base of the mountain... it took us an hour to get them all on and secure. Of course, this was actually my first time chaining-up. All kinds of firsts with this trip. All I can say... the next time chains are required, my ass is going to bed.
Finally got into Medford around 5am. Then last night coming across Oregon was no picnic either. A car passed me from the opposite direction on U.S. 97 near Crater Lake. I gave a look-see in the westcoasts just to make sure my trailer was staying where it should on the treacherous roads as the car was passing me and... I didn't see the tailights of the car that had just passed me, but I could see them reflected in the side of my trailer... like, really high at an odd angle. Before I could get out "What the..." I saw the car's headlights in the mirror, at least ten feet off the ground and spinning end over end in a circular motion.
Of course by the time all of this occured I'd already put 1/4 mile between the accident behind me and with the road conditions and it being a two-lane highway with no shoulder, stopping just wasn't an option for me... but there was plenty of traffic heading in the same direction as that unfortuante driver that surely saw it happen as well. About 15-20 minutes later I got a signal on my cell phone so I called 911 to report the accident, just in case. They said there was already an officer on the scene. I hope they're alright... from what I could tell in my mirrors, it looked pretty nasty.
You all... every one of you, holy freaking good God you write WAY too much.
So I get to spend a day or two in the truck all by myself. No trying to sleep while the truck is moving... no more of Roger's incessant talking regardless of whether I'm listening or not. I think ever since the European conspiracy thoery behind 9/11 discussion, I've only engaged in any of his conversations maybe once or twice, outside of, like, talking to him about training stuff. The rest of the time he would sit there and just talk and talk and talk. I can't stand people like that.
I should have a new student by the start of next week. I'm hoping for some... variety. Both Paul and Roger were considerably older than me. Not that it bothers me so much, but I'd like to have a little change-up. Someone closer to my age would be cool as well as someone younger. I think the young guys, especially guys who haven't travelled much would be fun to have on the truck, because everywhere we go would be so new to them. I've always gotten this vicarious pleasure from the new experiences of others... it's fun being a part of it.
"Westcoasts" are the big, flat mirrors on a truck, as opposed to the small, convex "spots" below them or on the fenders. "Californias" is synonymous with "westcoasts" but you don't hear that one nearly as often. Apparently "westcoast" and "California" are synonymous with things that are big and long and if this were on the "pr0n" filter, there might be a joke in there somewhere.
For our next lesson in trucker-speak, we will discuss the difference between the "hammer lane" and the "granny lane".
The downside to Roger getting off the truck is that I'll be lucky to make it to Lexington by Sunday afternoon... just enough time to see my kids then whisk away to Missour-ah for a Monday delivery.