I’m still amazed at some of the places we pick up and deliver things. We went out to the middle of nowhere in Texas to pick up spring water. I hadn’t even seen a pond for a hundred miles, I have no idea where this spring water is coming from, but it’s heavy as hell, and there are no scales at the plant.
My husband says a good driver can tell by the feel of the trailer if his weight is alright, but he’s super-careful about being scaled, especially when he’s really heavy. I’m still not entirely sure what happens if you’re pulled into the scale house and things don’t go well. He’s got me convinced it involves hard time in a Gulag. I get unreasonably nervous at the scales, and wait for Federal Agents to drag me from the truck because the back tires were heavy. This isn’t all fun and games for me, either.
The last time we were in North Dakota, we were taking insulation to a brand new Ethanol plant, which makes perfect sense. What does not make perfect sense is that there wasn’t a forklift in the whole damn place and we had to wait while an entire truckload of insulation was unloaded with a pallet jack. People acted like they didn’t know we were coming. “What? You’ve got a truckload full of stuff we ordered? How did that happen?”
It’s always awesome to show up for a trailer that doesn’t exist. You deadhead three hundred miles to what’s supposed to be a hook and run, and once again, people act like they didn’t know you were coming. Or even better, get the paperwork for one trailer that has another trailer’s number on it. Seals have to be broken, people stomp around and cuss, and time is wasted. Paperwork can make or break a trucker’s day.
It’s not all about the driving. It’s about being flexible and fluid, able to take the ridiculous stuff in stride and still make the delivery. It’s about making sure everything weighs what it’s supposed to, or the boogey men with scales come and get you. And parking. It’s about parking. And backing up…and..