It’s not what to do…

You haven’t truly lived until at least one point you’ve held your head in your hands and asked yourself ‘What… The… Fuck…’

I’m not talking about dealing with stupid people, or a frustrating day. It’s not even about life giving you lemons. It’s about being aware that life is full of uncertainty. You can’t fix it. You feel like you’ll never be able to figure it out. Many of us have resorted to ignoring this heart-wrenching feeling and just plain accepting things as the way they are. Life simply goes on.

I’m guilty of simply accepting things as they are. It’s easier. You don’t have to worry about a broken heart or shattered dreams or a tortured ego. Religious or not, we may tend to rely on fate or chance to determine our path. I guess that will suffice… But what fun is that?

We are not here to accomplish nothing with our lives. We are here to do all those things that make for an amazing story at the end. Some of us get stuck on the idea that we may be doing it alone, or we may not have enough money or we may even be missing out on something awesome within the bubbles that we cocoon ourselves in. Of course you can’t leave out the fact that self-esteem and confidence determines what we ultimately end up doing with ourselves.

You may have at one point asked yourself, ‘What do I do!?’ You hope for some answer to appear or some revelation to manifest in your mind. You may even construct your own half-ass answer simply because you are dying for something to hold on to. You hold on to it as if God himself whispered in your ear and said, ‘This is EXACTLY what you’re supposed to do…’

I asked myself that today… ‘What should I do?’ … Nothing… Nothing at all. All that came to mind was noise and self manifested ideas on what  I would imagine could solve all of my woes. Throughout the last 15 years of my life I have always wondered what to do. Truth is, I’ve never known. It has never made sense. What has made sense is where I’ve been.

This may not be the answer for everyone, but for anyone with a gypsy soul such as mine there is really no better way to leave your sorrows than by getting up and… going. It was when I was 24, I decided to do just that. I went on the hunt for an amazing story. 12 years later I look at what I have and who is by my side. All I see right now is a glass of whiskey and a desire to start what I set out to do.

Advertisements

Lot lizards…

This truck driving gig is winding down… Finally. Now that a bit of money has been made, I can begin my settling down process in California. It’s a strange sub-culture of America though, and I haven’t even scratched the surface of it. I’ve been on the road for a few months with quite honestly the crappiest organization I could ever imagine. I’m on lock down because of this stupid on-board computer that pretty much dictates every bit of everything that I do on the road. I could go on and on about my personal experience with the truck and this company, but I wanted to write a little bit on the subset of society that I have been getting accustomed to while out on the road.

Of course, much of what I’ve seen has been utterly disgusting. Piss bottles all over the truck stops, jacking off in the public restrooms, lot lizards leaping from truck to truck, obnoxiously fat people barely able to walk across the parking lot, copious amounts of soda pop and Cheetos being taken out by the fistful from the convenience stores, the stink… Blech…

Aside from that, it is an interesting culture out here. I can’t really sum it all up simply from being out here for a few months. Here’s what I know… Being cooped up in a truck for weeks on end will get to you. I mean, imagine living and working in a walk-in closet. Only able to leave when you have to shower, fuel up, eat or unhook a trailer. You must sleep in your closet, and stay awake for at least ten straight hours while looking out the door. All this being said, I have no real analysis of this culture. It would be based on immature experience fueled by aggravation of the initial impression I’ve gotten..l so I’ll just puke out a few words of experience this far…

For some people, it’s truly a way of life. I can’t understand the real appeal. At first I thought it would be cool to ‘get paid to travel the country’ but all I can really do is watch it pass by from the interstate. I can’t exactly pull a seventy five foot long and eighty thousand pound tractor trailer into the popular tourist destinations… The truck stops leave much to be desired. Fast food or pre packaged donuts. Can’t even get the name brand shit. Some of the food is alright though… I stopped into a pilot somewhere in Wyoming or Colorado and had quite possibly the best slice of pepperoni pizza ever! Really, I did. I’ve become a zombie however, when I stand in front of the drink cooler. Soda, RedBull or juice? Juice sounds nice and all, but being on the road three hours from the nearest rest stop isn’t the time or place for your body to adjust to a new form of dietary intake… I’ll stick with the bad stuff until I’m off this thing… You ever try to work out in your closet? It sucks…

One peculiar thing I notice lately is the unspoken attention given to parking your truck. It’s no secret that backing a truck up with a trailer is something that takes a lot of practice to get right. It can be really frustrating especially when you drive into a truck stop or consignee late at night and all you want to do is pass out, but you gotta fight with limited space, awkward trailer swing and a dozen eyes peering out from behind their cab curtains…

Some of the best times to drive is at night… If you can stay awake. So some people drive until midnight or so to get some easy road conditions before giving in to the night… Problem is by the time you get to the truck stop there is no parking. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Except for the one spot in which the only way you can get into is to perform a blind side back. (Basically backing up to the passenger side and by the time the trailer swings you have zero visibility as to where you are. ) So I’ve noticed some weird things people do…

Some people pull straight into a spot. Uh… They then realize they have to wait until the late morning before backing out… You’ll see some park on the on ramps… Pretty much illegal but it’s an easy way to not have to back up… As I sit here tonight (after backing up quite nicely I’ll admit), I notice trucks pulling in, set up for a back into a spot, try four or five times, then either totally find a new spot, or leave completely and head down the road. A lot of these trucking companies push us to get out and look (goal is their clever little anagram)… But some of these nitwits have way too much pride to get out and check their situation… Or maybe they’re simply too lazy… Either way, it’s funny that a simple thing like backing up can actually dictate the overall schedule for many of these people… As I’m writing this some asshole got on the CB and started talking shit about a new guy taking too long to back up… I saw the guy who was talking shit and picked up the CB to tell him to shut his hole but something made me wait… Sure enough he finally got his chance to park aaaand ba-dow… Not only does it take him twenty pull-ups to park, he swipes the mirror off another truck… I figure I’ll put the CB mike down and let his pride do the walk of shame in front of everyone else watching this cocksqueeze cower with his tail between his legs…

Oh, the lot lizards… Naaa-sssty… I keep my doors locked at night because they are known for jumping into trucks and crawling into bed with people… Or stealing shit out of trucks… And for the record… No, I’ve never… No lot lizards… Nothing ever in my truck at all… I’d be embarrassed to invite anyone in my truck anyways… I’m not dirty by any means but I wonder what smell I’ve gotten used to that might make someone die when they hop in… Mixed with the fact that when I got my truck it had 400,000 miles of sweaty nasty ball pheromones permeating through every ass laden cushion… I used a whole can of upholstery shampoo and two cans of febreeze so far… Did I mention I can’t wait to be done with this shit?

Home…

Ever since my family moved to Washington State back in ’89, I completely forgot the feeling that I once again had today. Since the move many years ago I’ve lived in a lot of places and traveled way more than I imagined I ever would. I’ve always wanted to be going somewhere but couldn’t quite put my fingers on it. When I returned from my first deployment to Iraq, I felt an emptiness inside. I had nowhere to go, and no desire to do anything but find the local bar and… Well, I’ll leave those stories for the guys…

After finishing my time in active duty I decided for some abstract reason that I should beat-feet back to Washington. As I drove the moving van with Harley and ‘things’ in tow, I didn’t get the same feeling as I got today.

Wherever I’ve lived over the years I always felt the urge to go back to whatever place it was that my bed was in. Even if only for a day, I couldn’t fight the desire to get back. I mean literally the particular address in which I lived. The shitty old house downtown Port Orchard, the totally awesome apartment in North Carolina, the temporary barracks, the tent at a campsite while camping… Even while I was in Iraq, I got homesick for my container house if I was away at another location for too long.

Whenever I got back to those places I felt a faint sort of gratification that I made it back, but something has always been missing. It didn’t take me long to get restless and want to venture out and go somewhere again. It was a vicious cycle.

The last handful of years had proven to be less than extraordinary for me. I guess I did a lot with my time but the feeling I couldn’t ever seem to shake has been looming over me.

Today, I left for my first solo run after getting assigned a truck. Wouldn’t ya know, it’s to California. A pretty decent run at that. (Meaning pay wise). As I passed over the border I got a glimpse of exactly what I’ve been missing. I actually felt like I was coming home…