My journey into the world of being a professional driver started October 9, 2014. I was fired from my regular job in the call center for a major cable company. Up until then, I had suffered as a wage slave in sales and customer service for over fifteen years. I was burn out. I was emotionally, physically, and spiritually exhausted and sick of people. I needed a change.
I remained unemployed for six weeks. One day, while at the unemployment office, I was told about a program through Ohio Works First called The Workforce Investment Act. The state pays your tuition for better education. I applied. I qualified, so I enrolled.
Of the myriad of choices, commercial driving had the quickest job placement. I needed a job, so I selected that. The Next Monday, I began courses at Roadmasters’ Driving School. I excelled at the course work. I flew through the legal parts. By legal, I mean the how to keep a log for the highway patrol, how many hours you can drive, what kind of roads you are permitted to use, and so on. I was below average behind the wheel.
I've never driven anything that wasn’t an automatic before. Using a clutch was foreign. Raising your RPMs to shift down seemed like witch craft to me. Flipping a paddle up to access the higher gears was just insanity. I failed the state driving test the first time. So, I spent another week at the driving school. Then, I was permitted to retest. It didn't go well. The state agent in the truck told me it was down to the final maneuver. If I could parallel park the tractor and trailer, I'd pass. I can't parallel park a car.
I exited the rig and looked at what I needed to do. I walked completely around the rig, painting a mental image of the contortionist maneuvers I was about to perform. “Ok, pull up along your spot so the back bumper is lined up with where the front bumper should end up,” I told myself. “Then, a quarter turn left and begin backing SLOWLY,” I said. I climbed in and, like someone far more capable, I nailed it. I passed. I parallel parked that rig beautifully.
Within a few days, I had my new Class A CDL and was hired by a big trucking company. So that I don't get sued, I will call them Big W. On December 11, 2014, I embarked on my first training drive. When the Big W recruited me, they emphasized that all their drivers are required to read and speak fluent English. No one told my trainer.
He was a super nice guy, and spoke about 5 words of English. I'm a Midwestern white boy from a 97% white neighborhood. I speak English and Redneck and nothing else. There was a massive communication block there. I spent 20 days in his truck and the only English he said to me was “slow down, you kill us.” Because we couldn't speak, he wasn't much good as a trainer.
I didn't learn the twisted alchemy of downshifting. He never let me back the trailer up to a loading dock. His electronic log was in Spanish, so he did that for me, too. I did learn that I am a “punta” and a “bitch gringo,” terms of endearment, I'm sure. I became proficient at driving forward though. As long as I didn't NEED to shift, I did ok.
We departed Ohio and headed west. Our first job was dropping off whatever was in the trailer at a shipping yard in California. I drove somewhere around ten hours. He drove while I tried not to puke in the back. I was supposed to sleep at the same time he drove. My stomach had other plans. When it was my turn again, we were in California, and it was snowing. He went to sleep and turned me loose in the mountains. My second time driving a big rig, I conquered Donner Pass. I did it at around fifteen miles an hour up and down, but I did it.
This was pretty well how it went until December 30th. That was a dark day. I woke up to find I was alone. There was a note duct taped to the steering wheel. It said, “stay in truck bad nayborhood.” I went back to sleep. Waking up several hours later, I was still alone and had to pee. I looked outside and it looked like a RoboCop movie. There was graffiti, burning trash, stripped cars, and seemingly homeless people huddled around the burning trash. In a panic, I climbed out, did my business in between the cab and trailer, and got back inside. I was scared.
I called dispatch. They were able to tell me I was somewhere in New York (I forget where). They also told me, my trainer went home on vacation and would be back in seven days to get me. The dispatcher asked, “what, he didn’t tell you?” I explained the note on steering wheel. I mentioned that since he speaks no English, if he did tell me, I didn't understand. He asks me to stand by for instructions.
The dispatcher called back about an hour later. He explained that legally, since I'm in training, I can't drive anywhere by myself, which is handy since my trainer took the keys with him. He said he'd have my trainer come get me and take me to a hotel for the duration of his vacation. I was okay with that.
Three hours later, he shows up in an SUV with the angriest looking woman (I'm assuming his wife) I have ever seen, a very, very old woman (his mother or hers maybe), and about seven kids. No one spoke English. He grabbed my bag. I followed him and got in. That was the longest hour and half I've ever spent in a vehicle.
He took me to a Motel in Deer Park Long Island. He checked me in because the person at the counter spoke less English than him. I decided to make the best of it and got a nice hot shower. I washed the nasty clothes I'd been carrying in my bag. I went to sleep and that's when things got really bad.
I woke up in the dark with something crawling on my face. I clicked on the light and my room suddenly became the million cockroach march. The ugly yellow walls were Brown and squirmy with all the roaches. After throwing up and climbing into the shower, I called dispatch again.
I told this dispatcher about the roaches and how I wasn't staying here. He had a bit of an attitude with me. He asked what I wanted him to do about it. All I wanted was to go home. He told me he'd make arrangements and call me back. I spent five hours cowering in the shower, squishing bugs, before he called back. He had a plan.
He had bus tickets waiting on me in New York City. He had no way to get me there, though. I'd have to get there on my own using public transportation. It is New Year's Eve, and I'm going to travel via New York public transportation. The first part was a 2 mile walk from the motel to a train station.
While walking, I unpacked my bag and shook everything out. I was determined not to bring bugs home. That done, I buy a ticket and get on the train, going the wrong way. When the ticket person collected my ticket to punch, she very sweetly explained I'm going South and needed the North train. She gave me a transfer pass and explained that I need to get off at the next stop and cross the street and get on that train to go north.
After the train, there was a bus. That bus took me to another terminal, this one for electric busses. Trolley cars I think, they have little poles that touch electric lines over head. That took me to a train that started at ground level and ended at a subway station. I can say I've ridden the New York City subway. From here I took another city bus to Virginia Street Station in New York City.
It was a sea of humanity. There were tickets waiting for me, but that bus didn't leave for three hours. So I ate. While I was eating, a drunk woman accused me of stealing her bags. Police were called and I was interrogated. They searched me and my bag. She said she asked me to watch her bags while she went to get a drink (like she needed another one). I was in the restaurant the whole time, and had never seen her before. The police left.
It was finally time to board the bus for home. Whatever route it took, I got to see, very distantly, the Statue of Liberty, the Macy’s on 34th street, and what is think may have been the Empire State Building. It took hours to do all of the stops the bus was doing in the city. The Ball had dropped and it was around 1:30 a.m. when we left the city. So I can say I've seen New York City.
We stopped in Philadelphia. Next, was Pittsburgh. For some reason, our next stop was in Erie. In Erie, we changed busses. This bus went to Cleveland. The Next stop was in Columbus. There was another bus change. This bus went back east. There were about a dozen Amish people. They were awesome to talk to. Very Friendly. I enjoyed this part of my journey. I was actually sad to get off the bus when my stop came.
That was my first adventure in commercial driving. I learned virtually nothing, but I got to see the country. I left a very nice Duluth Trading Company hat and Oakley shades in my trainer's truck. So, all in all, it wasn't a good experience.
Big W called me the next day. They wanted to send me out with a new trainer. I asked for a couple days since I missed Christmas and New Years. They agreed and gave me directions on where to go and when. I met this trainer in Kentucky. He was old and angry at the universe. He was a bigot like no other, or so I thought. I made it a day or two with him before he told me to get out. I'd picked up the sniffles in New York. He was convinced it was going to kill him if he caught it. So he left me at a hotel in Kentucky. I don't remember where exactly, but there was a Noah’s Ark Museum in the next town over.
I was a state away so I didn't bother calling dispatch to get home. I called the family. They came to get me. And that ended my driving career with the Big W. My official last day was January 11. While looking for further employment with another company, tragedy happened. I took time off.
Another company, again, so I don't get sued Big H, hired me. They put me with a trainer February 12. This trainer, Jimmy, was the most racist man I've ever met. Being from Ohio, I know lots of racists. This guy was leader of the KKK material. Just a real piece of garbage kind of guy. He refused to acknowledge that anyone that wasn't white as even human. Everyone that wasn't pale European white was a "n>%%=r” (I hate that word and you won't see me use it).
We didn't get along well. He, too, never let me back the truck up to a loading dock. He did let me park it once or twice. He let me do a couple drop and hooks, which is basically dropping one trailer off in a field and picking up another one from the same field. Sometimes, there are many, many trailers in the field to navigate around. Sometimes, there are only a few.
We delivered mostly to small retail stores. I can't say the name, so I don't get sued. But, you likely have one within ten miles of your house. The merchandise was in large rolling containers called rolltainers. We also had to unload some merchandise onto long hand trucks called U boats.
At the very first delivery stop we did together, a loaded rolltainer fell and rolled over my toe. The steel toe work boots weren't enough and my toe was destroyed. I bled profusely for an hour or so. I asked about reporting it as an accident. He called me a pussy and threatened to leave me at the store. Did I tell you, I didn't get along with him? I bought bandaging supplies and did my best to clean it and treat it.
I spent five days in the truck with him before I got to go to a terminal. I turned in my destroyed boots at the terminal and was given another pair. I reported what happened. They asked why i didn't report it sooner. I explained that my trainer said he'd leave me there if I did. They didn't believe me. They downplayed my toe, saying if it was as bad as I'm saying, I wouldn't be walking on it. Got work to do, so I dropped it and went back to work.
After 30 days, he certified that I was ready to drive alone. I still have never once backed up to a loading dock. His truck was a push button automatic, so I still haven't learned to shift. I wasn't ready.
My first delivery to the retail store was my last. While trying to back up to the loading dock, I obliterated a dumpster. I pulled forward, and tried again. I scraped the entire length of trailer along the wall. I tried again and just couldn't get it right. I made the delivery by unloading their rolltainers in the parking lot and pushing them through a side service door. It was ugly, but it worked.
They called in to the company to tell them how badly I did. Once that delivery was done, dispatch called. They instructed me to take the trailer to a drop yard and leave it. Once I completed that, they assigned me to another job. This one was mostly drop and hooks.
I did ok for the first few days. Dropping and hooking is pretty straight forward and, best of all, no loading docks. Then, my assignment changed again. I was being assigned to intermodal. From what I understand, intermodal is moving shipping containers from shipping yards to their destinations. These trailers were all different sizes.
The first couple weeks, I carried mostly short trailers. The trailers were only twenty-eight feet or so long and were called pup trailers. I got pretty used to this size. I even successfully backed one, and only one, to a loading dock. The place I was taking it to asked very nicely. So, I officially backed a trailer up to a loading dock successfully.
I had a random fifty-three or so foot trailer one day. It went poorly. I had grown accustomed to the short trailers. I was heading from the east coast to somewhere called Ford City in Illinois. I was told it was near Chicago, but I never got that far. I had an accident in Reading, Pennsylvania.
There is a truck stop there in Reading, and I really had to use the little boy’s room. When I was pulling in, I did not swing far enough. I didn't jug handle my turn far enough, and took the front end off of a truck that was leaving. No one was hurt. But, my ego took a beating.
After calling dispatch, I was told exactly what to do and how. We exchanged insurance and filled out the accident report. We took a great many pictures. I apologized profusely and humbled myself for forgiveness. I knew that I was getting fired.
Dispatch asked me to drop the trailer at a nearby drop yard and head to the terminal. Once there, the safety manager checked something on the truck by plugging a computer in to it. He told me pack my stuff and await further instructions. That truck, he said, had to undergo a full diagnostic before it could be driven again. He sent me inside to wait.
I was greeted by a safety officer. He took yet another written statement from me. He explained that I am now labeled an insurance risk, and an expensive one at that. He said that the company had to replace the body of the truck I hit and reimburse the client for damaging their shipping container. He told me that my little fender bender could cost upwards of a half million dollars and that my services were no longer required.
That ended my short professional driving career. I put a good deal of thought into going back to driving someday. Let's look at the logic. If that truck I hit had been a passenger vehicle, i would have killed them. I was near eighty thousand pounds total, and no regular car would have survived. I never really learned to back it up. I never learned to downshift. Those together, makes me dangerous on the road.
I tried my hand and warehouse work after this. I couldn't keep up with the pace. I tried factory work. I liked it, but it was devastating to my body. So, I slid back into retail Hell. Every day, I feel like a failure. I tell myself everyday that it could be worse, I could be homeless and unemployed. Got work to do, I need to go.
