Day 201 (I Will Have A New Student)

Today I'm enjoying my last day at home, for tomorrow it's back to work. I found out from Monica, my fleet manager, that I will be training a new student. His name is Clinton, he's from Memphis, and... that's all I know for right now. So far as I know (at the moment) he doesn't have a passport, so I may have to wait a while before I can get a load to Canada. That will be a bummer, since I'm excited about going.

As the last few days, this will be short. Since Tikvah has been sick this week, I'm going to head into the kitchen and start making some Matzoh Ball Soup with some chicken stock, hopefully that will help her. I've been at home for a week now (not making any money), and I'd much rather be here to take care of her until she's back on her feet, but unfortunately I don't have a disposable income. She is feeling better now than she did a couple days ago, so I hope this helps her more. Please (for those that do so) keep her in prayer.

Day 200 (Almost Time To Go Back To Work)

These last few days have been very relaxing, very enlightening, and quite enjoyable. Yesterday my medical procedure went well, tomorrow is my last full day at home. Our friend, Rabbi Cohen, will be heading out tomorrow, and the fellowship we have had with him has been - to say the least - eye opening. I have been hungry for that deep studying for a long time, and I now have a few resources to utilize for that type of study.

My procedure that was done yesterday has not left me in pain, but rather a little discomfort, so I know HaShem has His hand... after all, I did just fulfill a mitzvah. I do believe that I'll be seeing things through different eyes, studying scripture in a whole different way. Basically, HaShem will be taking Tikvah and I into a much deeper level. As I mentioned last night, I may start a different blog with these study insights, but they may not be for a couple weeks, or months.

Day 199 (I Am Now An "Ish Chodesh")

This morning I went into my doctor's appointment, for an out patient procedure... no big deal, it's over and done with. All afternoon my wife, Tikvah, and our dear friend, Rabbi Cohen, and I have been enjoying the conversation, fellowship, and studying (not to mention the lunch, coffee, cheesecake, then later, wine). Rabbi has been opening our eyes to some bind-blowing things in scripture. Things I may have to blog about in my other Blogger based blog, A Voice In The Wilderness (perhaps I may even cancel that one and start anew).

Plans tonight: playing it by ear.

... and coffee.

Day 197 (Sunday: Relaxing And Work?!)

A nice day, very enjoyable to be home. Came home after services and my lovely wife, Tikvah, made a wonderful spicy Spaghetti for lunch/dinner, after which we lied down for a nap. We are up about now, but I'll have to leave in a couple hours. No big deal, though... it's just a quick run to Jonesboro, AR and back. My fleet manager, Monica, called Friday and asked if I could do this favor. The original driver tried to see if the customer would unload it early, but they wouldn't. So he came out here to the truck stop where I park and swapped both the trailers out.

I went out yesterday to check the level of the trailer fuel, and since it was low, I topped it off. I'll leave here about 1915, head to Jonesboro (the delivery appointment is for 2200), and once I'm empty, I'll head back - which means I'll have to set the DVR to record the latest episode of Leverage. Tomorrow I'm going to relax... it's my day.

Day 196 (Another Peaceful Sabbath)

It's been a very quiet and peaceful day, though it has been very hot outside. Another lazy day (they can be very therapeutic), and for dinner, I'm going to have breakfast. I've been putting it off for a while, but I'm finally going to try a recipe for English Pancakes that I got from fellow blogger (and a great person to follow on Twitter) Julie at Telling Tales. I'll first make the pancakes, then I'll fill put a cream cheese filling in the center and wrap them up and probably top them off with some powdered sugar and...

... I'm starting to get hungry, time to start cooking.

Day 195 (My First Lazy Day)

Today it was very nice to do nothing, except drink coffee and watch a House marathon. Which, as it's plain to see, I must have gotten a bit too lazy, since it's long past 1630 and I'm just now getting the post up. I'm rather upset, because I tried to open up iTunes earlier, but (and I'm guessing it's due to some virus that got in from one of the programs one of my sons downloaded) I'm unable to open, uninstall NOR re-install. I can't even update my iPhone nor my iPod. Anybody have any idea how this can be fixed?

Day 174 (Feeling Adventurous)

Today finds me in the same place I was yesterday: the Tyson in Rogers, AR. I will be able to find out in a couple hours whether or not I can get loaded early (which of course I hope I can). Seeing as I am sitting here at their facility, and having all day, I decided to walk about 1 1/2 miles to get some business taken care of. After I took care of said business, I ventured to get some coffee. The nearest Starbucks was showing to be another 3 miles from where I was, taking me further from Tyson. Normally that's a good thing, but when you're walking... not so much. I perused my "Around Me" app on my iPhone, and found two places not too far from me. Little did I know, my quest for coffee would soon become a mini walking tour, which itself, was very nice. As some of you already have surmised, I am a frequent patron of Starbucks, but when one is too far, and there are independent shops around, I will gladly partake in helping the local business to survive.

On my way to the first coffee shop, I found this walking tour was taking me into the downtown area of Rogers... and very quaint it was!







As I approached the first coffee shop, Hookah Java, I saw a young lady walk in just a few steps ahead of me. Since it was the last little shop, right on the corner,that must be it. I walk in and noticed the young lady glancing back at me a few times, as she walked toward the back. I knew something was odd about this, and while my eyes were adjusting from the bright outside to the darker inside, I deduced why. So I politely said, "you're not open yet, are you?" She confirmed this to be true, and that they would open at 1500. I walked outside and looked at my iPhone: 1430. So I ventured south on 1st St. to the other coffee shop, Iron Horse Coffee Company. This was a very nice place with a relaxing atmosphere. It almost felt like the type of artsy locale where poetry readings on the weekends would not be out of place, nor out of character. I ordered their Machiatto. The barista told me that their Machiattos were different than that of Starbucks. Good! I like that, because now I get a taste of the personality of this independent business. If I want it to taste like Starbucks, I would go to a Starbucks.

My next visit was of a local business I passed by on the way to IHCC, and almost forgot about visiting on the way back, a place called Méridienne Dessert Salon • Café.







This is not the type of place you visit expecting a selection of Betty Crocker "straight from the box" baked goods, everything here is prepared "from scratch" (can you say that when referring to a pastry chef's masterpieces?).Originally I just stopped out front and scanned the menu in the window, until one certain menu item caught my eye:







Inside the Café had the feel of one of the pastry shops you might see in New York City, where if you place an order to go, it's put inside a cardboard box, not a styrofoam container:







I had only planned to get just the Caramel & Chocolate pastry, until the gentleman (who's wife is the owner/pastry chef) told me about the cake of the day. I didn't catch the entire name, but when I heard "Apple" in the title, I was sold. The photo below shows the pastry I first purchased (on the top) and a close-up of the Apple Cake (on the bottom). I took a close-up of the latter because, during my 1 mile walk back to Tyson, some of the frosting rather slid off.




My final stop was rather an "official" visit to Hookah Java, since by now they were open (I also wished to apologize to the young lady, as I may have startled her earlier, by walking in so soon after her, and before they were open for business).




This place appeared to get quite a bit of business from the coffee and tea drinkers in the area, but the Hookah may well be their main source of revenue and/or customer base, though I can't be absolutely sure until I make a visit in their evening or nighttime hours. By the way, yes I did purchase a coffee from them, as well.

So that was my day, my adventure. It was a little warm, slightly breezy, which made the walking a little tiring, then again, how many truck driver do you know would actually, and willingly, walk about 5-6 miles. I myself know of quite a few that gripe if they have to walk across the parking lot of a truck stop.

- Another rant via BlogPress

The Road Scholar - Day 112 (Boy, oh boy! - with guest blogger Chrisinda Lukens)

The guest blogger today is none other than Chrisinda Lukens of A Little Wicked and A Frantic Mom's Menu, a very gifted writer from Pennsylvania who's musings (and sometimes sudden mood swings) run the gamut - and are usually... well... as she puts it:

"Following along with my train of thought is a lot like watching one of those movies you need to watch a few times before you sort of get it."

The Road Scholar - Day 64 (I'm Just An Okie From Muskogee... Ok, Not Really)

This has been a peaceful & relaxed day, as well it should be - it's the Sabbath. I started today from Madison, IL. Before I left from there, I was running low on milk, so I took the company vehicle into St. Louis, about 5 miles away, where they not only had milk, but it was Oberweis brand, which means it's milk in glass bottles. The place I went to, which is a common market chain in the St. Louis area, is called Schnuck's, but since it's located in the downtown part of S.L., it's designed in a more upscale motif (therefore it's called "Schnuck's Culinaria"). I was hoping another one of our drivers came along so he could have driven, and I could have collected a few pictures for you. Instead, I got just one:




Like this really surprises you, right?

Out across I-44, and into Joplin, MO, where I stopped to top off the fuel tanks (they do need attention sometimes). After I left there, I continued on, into OK, to Muskogee, where I am presently. Muskogee (sounds like the name for a bad smelling aftershave) is about 48 miles SE of Tulsa, and approximately 150 miles east (with a slight jog to the north) of Oklahoma City. It's a fairly decent sized city... big enough to warrant the ability to rock a 3G on AT&T. It's quiet here right now, and chilly (30°). No worries... I hope to rest nicely, and kick out these last 260 miles tomorrow. The depressing thing today is that my phone continues to be useless as a phone without my headset, and I have been unable to talk to my angel, but I got to hear her voice, along with an exchange of texts, but it's still not the same.

Let's see what the new day brings... maybe Starbucks...

... Please?

... Anyone?

... Beuller?

- Another rant via BlogPress

The Road Scholar - Day 20

I said last night that I would be composing this edition from home... alas, I have not made it there yet. I made my appointment, got unloaded, and began to head home, when my dispatcher called me and said they wanted me to head to our North Little Rock yard. Not a bad thing, mind you, as it turns out, my truck is being phased out of the system, so I needed to move into a new one - BRAND new, as in a 2011 model. The downside is I can't head home until tomorrow. Along with getting a new truck, I also have to attend a class to become familiar with the different specs this truck has AND another class for electronic logging procedures. Yes, our company is making the transition to paperless logbooks. Happy happy, joy joy. I kinda feel like Huey Lewis, "I got a new truck... " oh wait, wrong lyrics.

Now that I'm moved in, I'm totally stoked at this task I take on now - doing laundry! You may be thinking "if you're going home tomorrow, why not do the laundry then?" Two reasons: a) if I'm here, I may as well do it, then I won't have to deal with it over the weekend, and, b) IF I take home dirty laundry, I will get ready to do it, but my wife takes it from me and puts it in with what she may already have - she has enough to deal with, she doesn't need my dirty clothes.

But I am excited about going home, snow is waiting which means a perfect opportunity for quality snuggle time while watching some old classics (Cat On A Hot Tin Roof I think is one of them). So while I wait for my clothes to dry, I'll take care of some finishing touches in the new truck... or will I... Conan is coming on... the truck can wait - TEAM COCO!!

The Road Scholar - Day 19

Well, another day is done. I'm about 25 miles north of Marion, IL, which seems to stand out to me. Not for anything spectacular, just a billboard promoting the city and its endorser being Marion Ross of Happy Days fame. I'm on my way to deliver tomorrow in Osceola, AR. it was snowing ever so slightly earlier, but now, it too, has stopped for the night.

Just one more night on the road, this time tomorrow I'll be blogging from home... whether I do on the home computer, or, as usual, on my phone, still has yet to be determined. Chances are, it will be on the phone... for those of you who have boys, or teenagers, or a combination of the two, will know precisely what I mean. Don't get me wrong, I love my sons... I'd like to put them through college... and at times, through a wall. I've held on to one simple truth: parents of teenage children truly understand why animals of the wild eat their young. My oldest son and I indulged in some playful banter a few years ago. During our exchange, he remarked, "remember dad, I'll be choosing your nursing home," to which, I replied, "that's ok, we're spending your inheritance now."

I firmly believe that for every child that becomes a teenager, it should be their parents' right - nay... DUTY - to embarrass said teen, in public, with much joy, and most importantly, frequency. After all, they know EVERYTHING, right? By us fulfilling the afore mentioned duty, we are actually helping and educating them with an important life skill that will surely validate their character as an individual. Their reaction to our sound tactics of embarrassment, will determine their successes or failures in the real world. By doing so, we are shaping them to, in the words of Gunny Highway, "improvise, adapt, overcome" to a wide variety of situations they may be confronted with as an adult.

Ok... maybe not, but at least WE will have fun for a few years, right?

The Road Scholar - Day 18

From Noel, MO to Sterling, IL: 581 miles, 10 1/4 hours total driving... I know, I know - la-di-bloody-da. That was my day, and, though it was long, it turned out pretty productive. It gave me time to listen to more of my current audiobook, some music, and time to ruminate on the distant past (which was sparked by something I saw on Twitter last week).

A mutual follow (I follow them and vice versa) posted this:

That really got me to thinking: 20 YEARS, MAN!!! (if you didn't catch it, that is a reference to a line spoken by Jeremy Piven to John Cusak in Grosse Pointe Blank - except Jeremy uses the number 10, instead of 20). Yeah... it was actually 20 years ago. I reflected on many things during that time: temperatures in excess of 120°, living in the desert, and, of course, the daily battles we all had to face - continual attacks from entire brigades of... flies! While we attempted to "enjoy" a meal in the field, we were always swarmed by flies. Fellow Marines waving their hands over the food, even when it's on the fork enroute from the plates (or MRE package) to our mouths. And for the record... reading the book Dune by Frank Herbert while deployed in the Arabian Desert - NOT a good idea (unless you like the mind trips associated with it). I'll get into more detail on that another time.

One thing we all enjoyed was the influx of mail we got, most of which came from people we had never met, and in most cases, would never meet. This does not include the letters already coming in from friends & family. Many Marines received letters from single ladies. One guy in my platoon carried an exchange with a young lady, and their correspondence with one another was so sordid, it may well have been THE precursor for what is now referred to as "cyber sex." I myself had a few young ladies writing to me, but once the cease fire was called and we returned home, they, as well as I, lost interest. But of all the letters I received during that time, there was only one who's letters I looked forward to the most, and even our correspondence was completely by chance.

One day at mail call, I was handed a letter addressed "To Any Marine" - from somebody in Nebraska. Not only was I NOT from Nebraska, I didn't even KNOW anybody from there... but since that was the only letter I had - why not! The sender was an 11 year old girl named Kelli. She was in a school that got involved in this letter writing campaign that rapidly swept across the nation. What I liked most about Kelli's letters were her perspective of the world. She lived in a small town, which to her, that was "the world." I remember her once telling me, if memory serves correctly, of the hot air balloon festival in her town. She said, "it's a small town, so not a lot goes on here." I found her letters to be so precious, full of innocence... a viewpoint that hasn't been jaded by society, in the way we all succumb to as adults. Her letters, for me, served as an ideal escape into a rural community, away from the harsh reality I was presently sitting in. We wrote each other for months, even after I returned home... but unfortunately, we too lost touch, which is something I regretted for years.

Then over a year ago I get a friend request on facebook from a Kelli [I'm withholding her last name]. I do remember saying to myself, "self" (well, what would YOU say?). Seriously, though... I said, "I don't know any Kelli ****." There was also a message in my inbox from the same person... the body reading, "is this the same Doug Dowen that had a pen pal from Nebraska during Desert Storm?"

My heart didn't just skip a beat... it stopped!

This was THE SAME Kelli that, unbeknownst to her, saved my life, with just her letters... my "little sister."

Over time, we've been able to catch up a little. She is now married and had two sons. Kelli, to this day, probably has no idea what her letters did for me back then. At a low point in my life then, I actually didn't care if I came home - I had nobody to come home to. Her letters were what I needed to carry on. They gave me hope. When I came back and met Michelle (my wife), Michelle is the one that gave me a new beginning (my homage to her will be on March 23, which will also explain why I chose that date). But without Kelli's letters, that may not have happened. Kelli also probably doesn't realize she will ALWAYS have a special place in my heart. To me, she is like my baby sister, though we have yet to meet face-to-face. We spoke on the phone, briefly, about a week ago. She called me her "most favorite Marine in the world."

Then again, perhaps she DOES know...

Operation Desert Shield - 1990
(that's me kneeling in the center)

The Road Scholar - Day 17

Noel, MO is where I find myself right now, though I would have been long gone IF I had any control over it. Unfortunately, I am at the mercy of Tyson (yes, THAT one). This is one of those customers I least enjoy dealing with (the other being Wal Mart, which I just so happen to be delivering this load to). It's not the ground level employees that are a hassle, but the corporate level "geniuses" which set the policy. Well... I'd better not go there just yet, it would only kill the buzz of what had started out as a splendid day, for which I shall elaborate...

I have been dabbling in Twitter for about 1 1/2 years now, first starting out with not a clue about how to work it (am I the ONLY one who started out that way?), and having 0 followers. After a week or so I was able to acquire about 40 followers, many, I would discover later, were "bots" (and if you are reading this, no definition is needed, as you are tech savvy enough to know what a blog is, let alone a bot). Over time, I would come to follow, and be followed, by many people, if only on a virtual realm. I have seen some incredible things take place via Twitter: people transitioning their relationships from virtual to real life (by way of a "tweet-up"), awareness and support of world tragedies (the disaster in Haiti being a prime example), even a "tweet-up" meeting that has led to a marriage ( @iamwhite & @dallasnagata - both of whom are very deserving of each other).

I have been fortunate enough to interact with some people who feel comfortable, and trusting enough, to open up to me very personal details of their life - which I continue to hold in the strictest of secrecy (you know who you are). A level of trust I DO NOT take for granted, as, sadly, we live in a world where it's difficult to know who to trust. During the past 1 1/2 years of tweeting, I have met three of the people I converse with... well, 2 actually, as 2 of those 3 are married, and one of which is a silent participant of twitter (but he's still a very cool person, with a personality that ranks on the level of noble). The first person I met is a working artist, with great talents, known as @artbynemo (check out his work at http://artbynemo.com ). For over a year, he was the only one I met from Twitter - until today.

After I finished the work I'm being paid to do, and getting cleaned up (gotta make a good first impression, right?), I met up with @LauriRottmayer (she has a really cool blog at http://rottitude.com/ ) and her husband, @drottmayer (does he blog?) - and before I continue, let me say... David, you are absolutely correct (and I'm sure you recall the topic of conversation to which I refer)! I am honored not only to have met these great people, who are both former Marines, but also because a motto I began using last year (Carpe Java = Seize the coffee) has become one of Lauri's favorite phrases.

Lauri and I (to use her words) Carpe-ing the Java

The three of us enjoyed coffee at Denny's and engaged in great conversation, covering a range of topics. Interacting in the cyber world is one thing, but to put a real live breathing person to what otherwise would be a faceless (and, dare I say, soulless) exchange of words. This is why the world is a better place because of people like Lauri & David. People whom are willing, and trusting, enough to meet up with someone face-to-face. That is the type of interaction that could be in danger of slipping into extinction. We have before us some incredible technology that continues to grow at crazy speed, but let's not forget there are human beings behind the cyber chatter. To be able to forge a REAL interaction with others, face-to-face, is the epitome of "living life to the fullest." That we have almost forsaken such a precious gift... well, what would become of society in general should we slip that far?

So, to Lauri & David I say, thank you for your company today, and most importantly, your time. Even if we never meet up again (and I shudder at the thought) I shall always remember - and cherish - that you chose to give to me
something you will never get back - YOUR TIME. May G-d bless you both for that!

The Road Scholar - Day 16

Tulsa, OK. Big city, much activity, scant parking available at the truck stops. :-(

(A tree in Tulsa, OK, using Hipstamatic app w/ Salvador film)

The good thing is I was able to visit with an old friend and his son (as pictured below).

It was a very nice visit, and we had some good conversation. Earlier today, we spoke about a variety of things on the phone, and even arriving at the same conclusion regarding history: to read about certain historical events is one thing, but to hear of that event from a firsthand source brings the event into a different level of understanding. This came up because I was sharing with him of an audiobook I am currently listening to. I pointed out that the author, though he includes a multitude of historical data, appears to have written the book from a first person perspective (i.e. a witness of the unfolding events). How does all this tie in? Read on...

Many years ago, during my days as a young Marine, I was stationed in Guam, during which time I became involved in a local production of Fiddler On The Roof. For those even vaguely familiar with this musical, it is one of a small Jewish community, set in the Russian Czarist controlled town of Anatevka (one of the few musicals with a sad ending). Here's where it gets funny: a Jewish musical, with a predominately Chammoran (or Guamanian) cast, and produced/presented by an all girl Catholic school (I told you it would be funny). Anyway... two final shows on a Sunday: matinee & evening. During our break between performances, during our closing night meal, I was gently touched on the elbow by one of the nuns (who wad also the chaperones). She told me, "many of our younger generation Chammorans do not like Marines," to which I expressed my knowledge of this.

She continued... "but to the older generation, Marines are greatly loved and adored, because of World War II," (this was also something I had knowledge of - if only on a basic level). "I am one of those that are forever grateful for The Liberation of Guam, because I was a little girl then," she now has my full attention, and a peaked curiosity. "when Guam was controlled by the Japanese, it was the Marines that liberated us... freed us! The day we had a parade to celebrate, all the Marine units were marching down the street, all of Guam lined both sides. Everybody was cheering, celebrating. One Marine stepped out of his formation and walked over to the crowd, bent over and picked me up. He put me on his shoulder and continued marching in the parade with me there." Needless to say, I was speechless (for those that know me personally, this is not an easy task).

I share this because, as I mentioned earlier, to hear of an historical event from a firsthand witness, makes that event so much more meaningful - so real!

"Those who cannot remember the past, are condemned to repeat it"
- George Santayana

The Road Scholar - Day 15

Haubstadt, IN to Henderson, KY, temperature is... blah, blah, blah... I know, I start off the same, so I'll try something different...

In the dark, vast reaches of the space time continuum...

... Ok, maybe not THAT different!

So I'm here in Strafford, MO, a small town just a few miles east of Springfield, which, by the way, should suburban sprawl continue to overtake that city, then this small town may become a part of Springfield itself. I'm grateful I arrived here when I did (at 1930... 7:30 p.m. non-military folk), as I was able to acquisition one of the last 6 parking spots available, unlike last night when I conveyed the surplus of available locations. Although I had debated about pushing on until Joplin, but two things directed me here: a) 3G service, which would also have been available in Joplin, and b) the previously stated parking space, which may NOT have been available in Joplin. As a truck driver - and many of you may not be aware of this - we have a stricter set of regulations imposed upon us that require us to do such things as maintain a logbook, for the purpose of documenting the number of hours we drive within a given day, as well as the hours we've driven in the previous 7 days and... well, I won't bore you with trivial drivel (even I find such things boring).

Many things that most take for granted, are what we refer to as our livelihood. In that I mean, truck drivers are the backbone of the commerce system; whatever is purchased in ANY place of business (i.e. grocery store, hardware store, restaurant, etc.), is there due to the truck driver - we haul it all, from produce to lumber to steel... you get the picture. But just like society in general, we all have differing viewpoints and just as many opinions (insert your favorite opinion/reared analogy here). For many years I have heard a plethora of suggestions that, "truck drivers should get together and go on strike." This will never, and I say again NEVER happen, simply because, 1) let's face it, you can't get 10 drivers in any one truck stop to agree on anything (except to lament that dispatchers are idiots, in which I disagree - see what I mean?); 2) if they, just by some strange freak of nature (or a rift in the above mentioned space-time continuum), DO agree and coordinate an industry wide strike, only about 2.3% (even that figure is shooting high) would actually go through with it. Which leads to 3) should a trucker strike actually take place, those involved would find themselves incarcerated under stiff charges, as such a strike (under the ever-so watchful eye of the "intellectual" pompous, self-serving morons known as the government) is seen as an act of terrorism (because it affects the flow of commerce).

That having been said, I will defend the minority of the trucking industry - the PROFESSIONAL truck driver. Just because you have a CDL (Commercial Driver's License) in your pocket, does not make you a professional. The image most people have of a truck driver is: rude, fat, smelly ignoramuses that show less courtesy on the road than what the social norm permits in many third world countries. Then there's the PROFESSIONAL truck driver: extends courtesy at customer facilities (and places where they themselves are doing business), actually dresses decently (casual wear), clean (even wearing cologne), etc., etc.,

So you see, there are differences in truck drivers... but it's up to us - the driver - which image we wish to present. As for me... I choose the latter.

The Road Scholar - Day 14

Marion, AR to Corydon, IN to Haubstadt, IN, 500 some odd miles - another long day. Haubstadt is located on I-64, just 25 miles from the Illinois state line and just north of Evansville. I'm loading in Henderson, KY which is just south of Evansville. There are quite a number of trucks parked in the truck stops here (there are three), yet there are still quite a few spots available, which is unusual at this hour. Most truck stops are, generally, full by about 2100, sometimes earlier, depending on where you're at. The night is fairly quiet... 35° ("feels like" 28° - again, The Weather Channel), light truck traffic, etc., etc., etc.

Earlier today, I made my delivery in Corydon, getting there 30 before my appointment time. The customer (a.k.a. the shipper AND receiver - a "plant-to-plant" transfer) stressed earlier today this was a "hot load" - meaning it HAD to be there on time, without delay. Trouble is, when I arrived there, it was another couple hours before they even unloaded the trailer (yeah, really urgent). Situations like that, in my humble opinion, are absolutely unnecessary. If you, the customer, need me, the driver, to get your product there on time, then at least show me the courtesy of providing the same haste in the unloading process that I have just given you in the transportation process to get the product there on time - is that too much to ask? I guess that's one reason why I enjoy the holidays... most shippers will get you loaded in a timely fashion, most receivers will do the same... and in many cases, either end may fulfill their services earlier than prescribed (i.e. you get there early, they will get loaded/unloaded early).

Tomorrow's load, from what I gather, is fairly light and destined for Tulsa, OK on Monday. If all works well, which I expect it will, I may be meeting, for the first time, somebody whom I have interacted with, via Twitter, for coffee (what else). I'm looking forward to it, as we have been interacting for over 1 (or is it 2) year now. It may have been longer but I can't be certain, I've slept since then. Now where was I... parking, mild traffic... ah, yes...

I do wish I was heading out west. I long for those trips: open road, little to no congested traffic, mountains... oh, the mountains! Many places offer the most incredible views, the most breathtaking photo opportunities (and, by the way, I would REALLY like a Canon Rebel - but if somebody happens to feel VERY charitable, methinks a Leica M9 would be welcomed - either of which would take some amazing photographs!). Picture if you will (WHOA!! I just sounded like Rod Serling for a moment)... you're traveling east on I-40 in New Mexico, at night, about 20 miles west of Albuquerque. Climbing the hill, you are surrounded by the blackness of night; the only illumination around are traffic (what little there may be) headlights, and possibly the glow of the moon. You keep climbing... upward, upward... and you can barely make out the mountain's apex in the moonlight, just ahead. As you reach the climb's peak, the all but complete darkness has been broken. Before you are the lights of the city below... lights which are still bordered by darkness. Not just an overwhelming brightness, but lights that reveal details, definition. Instead of blurring together, the lights make out the shapes of buildings, flowing traffic, and the lining of streets. Even the changing of traffic signals can be identified: green... amber... red... cross traffic appears to crawl, almost like a concertina, adorned with red, amber, and white lights, and being stretched by unseen hands. As you make your descent, it's like you're looking at a motorized miniature town, set on auto. Yet the darkness begins to melt away from around you, and you become encompassed within the city itself... it welcomes you, surrounds you... consumes you...

The Road Scholar - Day 13

Here I am in Marion, AR where the temperature is 18°. Marion is really nothing more than an extension of W. Memphis, which, itself, is just across the Mississippi River from Memphis. Where I am parked is a truck parking area, on the northbound side of I-55, just north if I-40. Many years ago this used to be a (sometime) working weigh station. Across the freeway, on the southbound side, I can see the trucks trolling through that weigh station of which its law enforcement personnel are standing out in the cold, monitoring the passing trucks, and even waving in a few randomly selected for an inspection. The freeway is humming with a moderate traffic flow. There's still the evidence of a recent snowfall on the ground, and the side streets are basically lifeless.

The day has been a bit taxing, so forgive me that this post is lean of content. I'm off to bed. I'm sure I'll make it up to you on the morrow.

The Road Scholar - Day 12

So there's this guy... ok, perhaps not. But this day was about as interesting as live senate discussions on MSNBC (well, maybe not THAT boring). Two good things that did come out of today were A) I was able to watch a little snow (not as much, nor as heavy, as I would have liked), and, B) which is actually the most important... I GOT STARBUCKS!!

In the years I've been driving, I have acquired 3 essential things that assist in the passing of time (and miles) on the road. Neither of which would be a c.b. radio as they tend to add to the already onerous monotony. Though at times they can be useful, but not enough to validate the need to have one. To offer more detail, I submit this: should I be interested in the sharing of hunting/fishing stories, bad experiences at a shipper or receiver, tall tales of "super trucker" adventures, or the bemoaning of one's "ole lady," then I will (though I have absolutely NO INTEREST in said narratives) sit in just about any truck stop across the country, rather than listen to such discourse on a c.b. But I digress... Those essential items I mentioned are (and in no specific order) - a satellite radio, an iPod, and an iPhone... each having their own specific purpose, and neither repetitive of another. And believe me - they come in handy and used with frequency. Today's travels were no exception.

Starting from Robards, KY at 0830, my day is done here in Lowell, AR, to which I arrived at 1915: a total of 531 miles, though I could have made better time had 140 of those miles been on interstate instead of state or U.S. highways - but I'm sure such mundane matters are of little interest to you, my dear readers. Here in Lowell, the temperature is 13°, and with the wind, it "feels like" 3° (according to The Weather Channel app). This is the weather with which I enjoy the most, though my wonderful wife of 18 years (and how she puts up with me STILL remains one of life's greatest mysteries) would adamantly disagree, as she prefers the climates more befitting a Komodo Dragon. Though she will agree that this is perfect weather when I'm home, since it gives us ample "cuddle time."

This is a night that would be best enjoyed if I were in Arizona, New Mexico, or in the Mojave region in southern California. By that, I simply mean in those areas there would be plenty of places to park in isolation - away from the traffic and cacophony of the cities. Places where you can actually see the stars in the sky, and enjoy a darkened expanse, both above and around you. Places where, if I turn the truck off, I can actually hear a gentle wind singing, through the desert brush, its song of freedom and tranquility. A song that the desert wildlife will join in with their own chorus of a language heard, and understood, by all within range. The mystical verse of field mice, the gentle harmony offered by hawks, even the echoing refrain being offered in the sweet timbre of the coyotes. Occasionally a subtle percussion is brought in by the tumbleweed.

These are the things I've learned to listen for, things that The Lord, my G-d has taught me. But the trick is... you can't just HEAR it, you have to LISTEN to it. They are out there.

In the distance, as I close my eyes, I can hear the coyotes repeating their parts...

... can YOU hear it?

The Road Scholar - Day 11

I sit here in Robards, KY picking up a load bound for Lowell, AR. Robards, a small town about 60 miles east of Paducah and 35 miles south of Evansville, IN, doesn’t really have much to offer by way of culture, but for a place to get away from the hustle & bustle of the big city – this would be ideal. Not the type of country setting I prefer, as I would be more drawn to the northern states (Montana would be more to my liking… or Minnesota… or Wisconsin). However, if there were any one place I would like to live, considering money were not an obstacle, it would probably be Cape Cod, MA. When I first began this life of a truck driver, I ran team (1 truck, 2 drivers, sharing the driving duties) with a classmate from the driving school we both attended.

One particular run we had took us to south central Massachusetts. Once we got unloaded, as it turned out, we ended up getting laid over. Stan called and asked, since we had to wait until the following day, if he/we could visit his mom who lived 45 minutes away (at least that what he told the company – she was actually 1 1/2 hrs away). With their approval, we headed to Bourne, MA, a VERY quaint little town just across the bridge in Cape Cod. For mid-June, a more than welcome 54° is what the night offered. The next day, Stan gave me a tour, making stops in W. Yarmouth,
Barnstable, and Woods Hole, where you can catch a glimpse of Nantucket in the distance, a great view of Martha’s Vineyard, and eat the most amazing stuffed quahogs. Woods Hole was exactly what you would envision a coastal fishing town to look like, complete with the strong briny air that overwhelms your nostrils. That visit was the first, and, to date, ONLY time I had seen a lobster roll sandwich on the menu board of the local McDonald’s. It is the experiences like these that make the job of a truck driver – at least for me – such an enjoyable job. In future posts, I will share more of these memories, since, if I shared them all in just a few, then I would quickly run out of “padding material” – after all,
isn’t that what most blogs consist of? 

There are a few blogs that are exceptions to the afore mentioned note. One such blog I have just recently discovered via Twitter – and it’s one I really enjoy! I’ll admit, I’m not one of those “social media gurus” (though I find it difficult to put much trust in such self aggrandizing titles, let alone the ones who use them). In fact, I’m rather new to blogging itself. But one fellow (though I hesitate to use said term in reference to a writer of the opposite sex) blogger, whom not only refrains from using such titles, but probably abhors them (as I surmise from her recent diatribe concerning Klout), is Lori Flood (check it out – it’s refreshing, honest, and REAL!). Well, it’s now snowing here in Kentucky, so I shall close here, sit back and watch the flakes as they flutter about before their final descent. And it’s a good thing my doors are locked, I think I just heard someone begin to play “Dueling Banjos” in the distance.

The Road Scholar - Day 10

Another day comes to a close, and with less stress than yesterday – which actually ended at 0215 this morning (no thanks to the adverse road conditions, nor the road crews – or lack thereof). Tonight finds me in Southaven, MS, a town considered as a suburb of Memphis, TN, yet being located just across the state line (as if that tidbit really needed to be addressed). A mild 33° with a light fog lends a certain peaceful atmosphere to an area where, just 1 mile to the east, will be bustling with activity, or more precisely, traffic.

As I sit here, I stare out the window, gazing at the the thin layer of ice that has accumulated on the side mirrors. The just above freezing temperature allows for the ice to slowly melt in various spots of the mirror, each droplet falling away in its own independent rhythm… yet, collectively, they create a very syncopated pattern, almost as if they are composing their own music, yet to be heard amid even the most subtle noise. The recent snowfall is still evident upon the ground; calming, welcoming, even beckoning, any passerby to allow his, or her, inner child to “come out and play” (and who hasn’t felt that way… come on… admit it!).

Grocery trucks are entering and exiting the warehouse, just across the street, while the over-the-road carriers are parked just outside. Some sleeping, some watching t.v., some writing their blogs… ok, maybe I’m the only one doing that, but still, we are lying in wait until we make our respective deliveries in the morning. Inside, the grocery drivers are beginning their day – shuttling trailers around the lot, hooking up to loaded trailers and begin making the rounds to the grocery stores, where the product is unloaded and stocked upon the shelves, coolers, etc. before opening up for another day of business.

Nights like this do make me want to walk around, enjoy the solemnity, and even want to take a few photos to remember certain elements of these trips I take. Alas, my only camera consists of the various apps I’ve installed on my iPhone, neither of which are near adequate for nighttime shooting (but if anyone would be willing to donate a Canon Rebel DSLR camera, I would be MORE than happy to email you my home address).

The night continues to dwell deeper still while I become mesmerized by the ice, my attention drawn to it by its shimmer caused by the light from a nearby street lamp. The crisp night air feels soothing as it settles upon my skin and refreshing with my lung as I inhale deeply. The ground, not completely covered with snow, still rests peacefully, waiting… yearning. The snow is calling my name… beckoning me… I struggle with my inner child…

… I lost.