Soldiers' Angel - Holly Aho

As a semi-truck driver one of the worst things that can happen is to have the trailer disconnect from the tractor after you've started driving. Most truck drivers bring flashlights and thoroughly check the 5th wheel and pin (connector for the truck and trailor) before moving the truck an inch. Even after a visual check from under the trailor good truck drivers will further test that the connection is secure by setting the trailor brakes and trying to drive the tractor forward. If you get jerked back in your seat and your truck goes nowhere - you have a solid connection....usually.

There are however exceptions to every rule, and freezing temperatures such as the ones experienced in Minnesota can lead to a false sense of security. The truck can literally freeze to the trailer temporarily and appear secure until you have gotten a few miles and the fifth wheel has warmed up and unfrozen. And that's what happened to me - the only time I dropped a trailer, thank God.

Dropping a trailer is bad for so many reasons, the least being that your freight might be destroyed by a sudden upheaval as the trailer tips forward and hits the ground. Next, the legs of the trailer are rolled up for travel but with a heavy trailer and a sudden drop they can be crushed, leading to an embarrassing episode requiring forklifts to lift the trailer so it can be connected to a new tractor and pulled to the shop. The worst that can happen is that the trailer can disconnect on the street in traffic, mowing down cars and causing accidents. Unfortunately, my experience was the latter - fortunately, despite it happening on a busy street no cars were hit, no accidents caused. I was lucky. It did scare the crap out of me though....and was embarrassing as hell.

I was innocently pulling my trailer down a side street in Minneapolis late in the evening. It was dark out, the middle of winter and I was oblivious of the fact that my trailer was about to fall off my truck. I turned onto University Avenue (in a crappy neighborhood), which is a busy street no matter what time of day. My tractor made the full turn. My trailer made half of the turn before disconnecting and continuing into a slide that would take it across the lanes of oncoming traffic, at an angle.

Truck drivers are warned by fellow co-workers of the signs of bad things happening, such as what it sounds/feels like if your trailer falls off. I'd been told the stories, and while that probably saved my trailer it still doesn't fully prepare a person for the actual experience. Nevertheless sounds and noises that don't belong are bad, such as a loud clunk and grinding - or sparks in your sidemirror. I was warned - anything odd happens, hit the breaks immediately. Stop the truck...don't even think about it. That's what happened to me, there was a definate sound that was bad, like a clunk, and the truck suddenly acted different. I hit the breaks on the spot - stopped on a dime.

There I am, in the middle of a busy road, truck parked. I was almost afraid to get out and look, hoping I had only embarrassed myself by parking across 2 lanes of traffic for no reason, fearing I might find I'd stopped for good reason. I shook a little in fear and got out of the truck to see. Fortunately for me, I'd stopped the truck at the last possible second to save damage to the trailer, freight and passing cars. One corner of the trailer was resting on the back end of the tractor by about 1 inch. What had stopped it from crossing over into the opposite lanes of traffic was a curb, and the fact that it had fallen off of the fifth wheel, dropping it just enough for the rolled up legs to hit the side of the curb instead of continuing over it. If I hadn't stopped when I did the trailer would have dropped completely, crushing the legs and I'm sure it would have slid across the street. I stared in amazement at the truck, and watched the cars across the street as they passed oblivious of their near death experience.

Course, now I had to fix this problem. I spied a McDonalds up the road and not knowing what else to do I left my truck blocking the street like it was and headed to make a phone call to my work. God I felt stupid walking away from that truck. The only thing that spared my shredded dignity was the sudden realization that most people would not assume it was mine, as I was a small girl. I repeated that to myself and tried to look innocent to complete the subterfuge.

After making the call I headed back to my truck to wait. Another driver was coming with a new tractor to hook up to my trailer from the side. I arrived to find the strangest scene. A homeless guy was directing traffic in the middle of the street, waving them around my truck with his mismatched mittens. As soon as he saw me and realized it was my truck he became Mr Helpful. I needed to dolly the legs back down on the trailer to stabilize it for the hook-up to the new tractor. The handle was stiff to begin with but trying to dolly the trailer higher after the legs had already hit the ground was downright herculean. The full weight of the trailer and its freight was on those legs, and I was trying to lift it higher. It needed to be high enough for the new tractor's fifth wheel to slide under it.

The homeless guy asked if I had a flashlight and as I did I gave it to him. He instantly began official traffic patrol with the flashlight. When there was a break in cars he'd come over chatting away and helping me to dolly the truck up. To be honest, I was actually glad for the company. Now, I might be in an embarrassing situation but at least I had someone to share it with...homeless stranger or not. The trailer did get loaded onto the new tractor without incident and was hauled back to the lot. I of course, had to go get a different one and deliver that one instead. I've never driven so slow in my life as that trip, and never been so glad to see a trailer behind my truck when I arrived.

Oh - and the homeless guy? He got a new pair of mittens and hat, as well as dinner at that nearby McDonalds - my treat. I might not have needed his help, but he worked hard and his company in such a situation was invaluable.

In 1993, I was just getting started in driving truck. My favorite place of all time to deliver to was the Orpheum Theater in Minneapolis. The Orpheum opened in 1921 as one of the largest vaudeville theaters in the country. Its opening entertainment was the Marx Brothers. My job at the time was delivering supplies to electricians on the job, and the Orpheum was getting a makeover in 1993. If 'Phantom of the Opera' could ever be a true story - the Orpheum would be a good choice for location.

The electricians all worked in the lower levels of the Orpheum, which resembled caves more than hallways. It looked just like a mining facility, with mining tunnels and strung bare bulb lights on the ceilings. The tunnels had rounded walls, narrow girth and very low rounded ceilings. Standing in the beautiful theater above, decked out in extreme grandeur, you'd never guess that below you things were far different. Ah...it was such a great place to wander, down there in the tunnels. Tunnels ran curved and willy nilly. Workers walked through hunched over because of the low ceiling clearance. Coming to the end of a tunnel you'd find just what you'd expect if you were actually in a cave...a dead end with perhaps a shelf or bench resembling a natural rock formation. Ever watch the movie Goonies? It was like that. It was the most perfect place any kid could imagine for exploring - and I felt like a big kid.

Of course I was there to deliver supplies, and there were deliveries quite often, but occasionally....ocassionally....I'd stop by just for the heck of it. By this time all the electricians recognized me, and I think they felt some of the same child-like lure I felt with the place, for they'd simply smile as if they knew why I was really there and go back to work. I was probably one of the few people sorry to see the renovations completed and the work done.

The first performer to use the Orpheum as it reopened was the magician David Copperfield. His opening night followed so closely on the heels of completing renovation work that the electricians were still working the day Copperfield's crew came to set up the stage. I don't remember if there were any deliveries that day or not, but I do remember that a little thing like 'no deliveries' wasn't going to keep me away. Whichever the case, I got a backstage glimpse into the magical world of David Copperfield. More than a glimpse actually. I guess I was bolder then. I stood sidestage and watched the crew work to set things up just right. I must have become too bold because like a moron I walked further onstage to get a closer look and it was then I was noticed and shooed away. It was worth it.

There are many places I've delivered since that were interesting in some way or another, but none of them ever came close to the lure and intrigue of the Orpheum.

One time while driving truck over the road we stopped at a truck stop. The truck stop was doing a fairly brisk business, with quite a few trucks parked in the lot. After eating dinner we left, and about 20 minutes down the road I saw a startling sight in the side mirror. I was in the right lane doing about 70 MPH, and another big truck was coming up in the left lane so fast I did a double take. The truck blew by us so fast it nearly blew our doors off - seriously...this guy was doing well over 100 MPH...he was doing NASCAR with a big truck on the open highway.

I recognized the truck as one parked at the truckstop we had just left. Right behind this truck came 7 police cars giving chase, lights and sirens blaring. This of course gave me pause for thought. The dude driving this truck did not want to get caught. He was hauling ass. Also - if he had just filled his fuel tanks at the last truck stop it would be a long time before he ran out of gas - at least 1,000 miles or more. That's alot of state lines to cross and alot of jurisdictions to go through before he finally came to a stop. There's no way the police would be considering tire spikes...the danger of blowing the tires out of a semi-truck doing 120 on the open road would be unspeakable.

I've always wondered how that turned out. Did the cops at the county/state line just sit and wait for him and then give chase where the other troopers left off? Did he escape? How do you escape in an 18 wheeler? Slide quickly into an alley? LOL! And what's the point of running for 1,000 miles if you can't ditch your tail and the cops 3 states over are waiting till you run out of gas? I never did find out what happened, why he was running or if/how he got caught....but I've always wondered.

I realized I hadn't posted in this category for awhile so I thought I'd better add a new story or two. For those of you new to my blog, I used to be a truck driver (the big ones with 18 wheels). I was 18 - 23 years old at the time, and I'm all of 5' tall (even) and 105 pounds (along with modeling on the side), so I wasn't your typical truck driver. I did OTR (over the road...delivering all over the US) driving first, and then switched to local deliveries. Women drivers OTR are not that uncommon, but local delivery women truck drivers are very uncommon. I was hired at the age of 21 for a local driving job as the first woman ever hired at that particular company, which was a national chain with terminals all over the US. At my terminal there were about 180 other local drivers. So it was an interesting job to say the least. I thought today I'd share some OTR stories instead of local deliveries.

Once I was driving through Alabama and there was a terrific thunderstorm, with lightening, thunder and pouring rain. It was the middle of the night and I was on a small highway. Trees were overhanging the road with lightening flaring between the branches and rain pounding the roof of the cab as I drove along. We had a good stereo in our truck and just then the country song 'Like the Rain' came over the radio. I turned up the music loud and the setting was just perfect.

I remember another time I had been out of school and on the road only a few weeks when it was my turn to drive while my trainer slept (we were team driving). I had to drive through the Gorge on the east coast (South Carolina). At that time I had little experience with driving through such steep terrain and so I figured that I would follow the trucks in front of me and match their speed. If they didn't fall off the road it must be safe. Boy was I mistaken in that thinking. When my trainer awoke he asked where we were. I told him and he couldn't believe it. 'How did we make it that far that fast?' he asked, so I told him my method of driving through the gorge. I thought he'd have a heart attack. He told me then how stupid that thinking was - those trucks could have been empty, or loaded differently - all sorts of things that would make those speeds safe for them and not for us. At least we made it...and I never did that again.

One of the difficulties in driving OTR as a woman was the dangers to myself that men drivers rarely have to think about. Often drivers will meet on the road via CB, and talk to eachother as they go along. When one of them wants to stop for fuel or to eat the other(s) will often stop as well so that they can continue afterwards together again. Just like in the movies everyone has a handle and you might catch up with them sometime in the future while on a different run and it kind of becomes your circle of friends on the road. As a woman however it was always dangerous for me to agree to stop with the guys I'd been talking to on the CB. Expecially if it was in a rural area and not a large truck stop. Rest stops were also dangerous for me at night for similar reasons. (You don't even WANT to know some of the things that go on at truck stops). Nothing bad ever happened to me but it was still one of those things you have to keep in mind.

For the most part driving truck OTR was a great experience. I met lots of great people, had interesting conversations on 1,000 mile runs with fellow truckers, to be honest...the CB was really like a big verbal blog. Seriously it's a good analogy. You knew everyone else for the most part, even if you only recognized their handle. You'd heard them in Texas or California or New York in the past, or even talked to them or knew someone else who had mentioned them. Everyone had debates about politics, raising kids or taxes, and there was some seriously good humor going on when a 'comedian' decided to talk for awhile. It drove me nuts when I was in my personal vehicle without a CB because I KNEW there were tons of conversations going on literally right over my head and I couldn't hear them. Kinda like having a computer without internet access after being a serious blogger.

Some of the things I learned about CB usage....NEVER call someone 'good buddy'. Has connotations you don't want to think about and does not mean 'friend'. '10-4' is actually used quite a bit, as unlike a phone CBs cut off the other person when you start to talk. You want to make sure they are finished and shorter terms of talking make it all easier.

A 'bear' is a cop or police officer...and you can get your latest 'bear updates' by asking other drivers. You'll get the mile marker the cop is at, the side of the road he's on and which road he's at. You'll get the updates for the next 100 miles if you care to ask. Incidentally cops know all this and listen on their CB to us warning everyone of where they are. They just count on catching the truckers that have their CBs off. Cops also refer to themselves as 'bears' when talking to other truckers and often warn truckers there is a bear on their ass and 'slow it down' as a warning to be nice.

A 'back door' refers to the last truck in line when several trucks are following eachother closely. If you see trucks in a tight convoy they are most likely doing it to reduce drag and get better gas milage by letting the trucks in front of them be a wind breaker. The trucks rotate off on being the back door or 'front door' (person in front). The truck in front of most convoys is the truck(s) with a 'guard dog' - a radar detector. Don't want to get caught speeding! Trucks with lots of lights on the trailer and cab are called 'chicken trucks', and you never ever want to follow a bull hauler. They make the best money but you don't want to be one either. Their trucks are notorious for being smelly and overweight. Bull haulers are the specialists for picking out routes that have no weight scales (the DOT has weight limits for big trucks and there are weigh stations dotted over most highways). GOOD bull haulers can run overweight and make it through the weigh stations without getting a fine.

One bull hauler I knew had a method for each weigh station. At the nearest truck stop or rest area before each weigh station he would flood his trailer with a hose. Bull trailers are open for the cattle, so when he did this his truck would drip and spill all over the scales. Assuming the worst he was usually ushered out of the scales so fast his head would spin...they wouldn't even bother to weigh his truck.

Incidentally my husband became a truck driver after we got married. I was making the bigger bucks, I determined SOMEONE was staying home with my son - no more daycare! - and any future children we had....so he had a choice. Get a better job or get an apron. He chose to get his CDL. Smart man. To be nice he didn't do it for the humorous reasons you might guess. I had been a single mother without child support for 4 years, driving truck and working hard...at the age of 23 I owned my own house, had a new car and my son was in a private school...all as a single mom without any financial support...but he wanted me to be able to do my hearts desire, raise my children at home.

In any case as the years have passed I have occasionally driven truck to make extra money...and once we teamed to New York together on a run. I insisted on bringing my 2 cats in the truck - which shows how much he loves me...he is allergic to cats - but they came with. Want to test your marraige? Get in a small truck and team drive to New York on a time deadline. Then turn around and come right back. Bring your cats for extra fun...then debate who gets to back up the truck in the tiny little dock too small for a Pinto when you get there (I did...I'm better at it ).

Well, boy I've rambled on. I just have so many stories and lots of fun things to tell on the subject. I'll save the rest for later!

Some of my best memories from driving truck are the short and sweet funny stories that stick in my mind. Some of them still bring a smile to my face years later when I remember them. Here are a few of those.

"The Airhorn is Alot of Fun!"
I was running behind in my route, not having the best day all around when I stopped at a red light. The guy in front of me was not paying attention to the light, it kinda looked like his car was his office and he was busy doing some work. The light changed to green while this guy remained bent over the passenger seat engrossed in paperwork. I waited an appropriate amount of time (about 5 seconds) then got sick of waiting for this guy to notice he was holding up traffic. Due to my grim mood I grabbed the airhorn and pulled (holding for another appropriate 5 seconds).

The car in front of me became a small snowstorm of paperwork. The guy leaped to attention (I think he got whiplash), paperwork swirled up and around him like a snowdome and he promptly started moving his car. I laughed so hard I think that ended the bad mood for the day.

"Where's my Buddy?"
I've mentioned before that we were usually paired up on the job in order to speed up the process of unloading trailers. One person did the paperwork and directed the moving of freight, the other ran the forklift. If two people got along well enough they would remain working partners, often for years. One of these pairs was John and Russ. Both were big guys, not easy to miss. Although we were not required to wear uniforms Russ had a few from his last job and faithfully wore them to work each day.

Now our dock had alot of doors, and was quite big. One pair of workers could typically unload 10 or more trailers a night, at different doors all over the dock. When you're tired it's hard to remember which door you're working out of now. So we look for our partner standing outside our trailer. One day Russ decided to ditch the uniform and wear regular clothes. All night we watched in amusement as John continually drove past his trailer, unable to find it, because he couldn't find Russ. Russ just stood at the trailer, patiently waiting, as John constantly blew right by him looking for the uniform shirt that would tell him that was his partner and his trailer. What made it funnier was that he didn't improve as the night wore on...his brain didn't adjust to the lack of a uniform shirt. We heard him all night calling out 'Where's my partner??'

"Fun with Shrinkwrap and Packing Tape"
It wasn't all that unusual to see one of the guys shrinkwrapped to a roof support pole in the middle of the dock, or wrapped to the top of a forklift and being driven around for show. What made it entertaining was the victims chosen and the perpetrators. Usually the victims were the guys who were never silly. Old Rich who was 60 years old and second on the seniority list, or even occasionally, a dock manager. They would stand good naturedly and wait to be set free.

Usually a warning to this event was someone hiding behind a pallet with a role of shrinkwrap or tape, peeking to check on the progress of the victim as they walked down the dock. Let me say that only the biggest guys or a group of guys had any success at getting the job done. Seems that getting the victims arms plastered to his side was the first job on the to-do list of being successful. If the job was truly done well pictures would be taken and hung in the breakroom for awhile.

To be fair, the victim did have some warning even if the perpetrator was being very sly. Depending on who decided to be silly - the more austere the perpetrator in usual daily behavior, the more warning the victim had - as those of us working would see the guy hiding with his tape and have to look for the intended victim, then watch to see if everything was successful.

"Steel Tipped Boots"
Most of the dock workers wore steel-tipped boots. While those that didn't had dire warnings of what could happen to you if you wore them - toes cut off if heavy object falls on boot and bends steel down, ect, ect. - most of us wore them anyways. Once my partner was looking for a specific pallet and couldn't find it. He decided to stop and ask Louis, who was in the area, so he pulled up next to him and showed Louis his paperwork. Louis thought about it, they discussed it, and the Louis pointed off to the left - his best guess of where it might be. My partner took back his paperwork and proceeded to chat for a minute about other stuff. Louis calmly replied first, "Would you mind getting your forklift off my foot before you continue?" My buddy had parked on Louis' foot initially to ask his question, unaware of what he'd done. Fortunately for Louis he was wearing steel tipped boots.

"The Trailer of Empty Glass Bottles"
Chad was a regular freight risk with his lack of talent in using a forklift. To his credit, he did try hard to be careful, he just wasn't always successful. His forklift was the only one with a revolving light on the top and we teased him it was to warn others away. If your forklift was hit from behind with another lift it was a good guess Chad had backed into you without looking.

One day a cruel chance of fate handed Chad a trailer to unload full of empty glass beer bottles stacked in boxes up to the ceiling. The trailer had been parked in a dock door further down from the usual rush and bustle of the other trailers, and we watched as Chad was ever so carefully unloading his freight. Sweat was breaking across his forehead as he tried to ever so gently remove the freight and store it on the dock.

What happened next I have to admit was my fault. I backed into Chad while he had an eight foot tall stack of boxes filled with these empty bottles on his forks. He didn't see me coming, he was concentrating so hard on his freight, and he didn't even see me nudge his forklift. What he saw was his stack of precariously balanced freight wiggle, wobble, topple and fall, followed by a wave of smash...smash...smash...smash, as each box in turn, like a wave, hit the floor and shattered its contents. It really did take an impressive amount of time for the waves of resounding crashes to finally finish, leaving every box filled with just glass shards.

Chad just sat in amazement repeating over and over like someone shell-shocked "I was being so careful. I was being so careful. I don't know what went wrong. I don't know what went wrong. I was being so careful....." At this point I could have stood next to him and just commiserated. I really, really felt like doing that. But I did admit it was my fault. I just had to choke on the words first before they finally came out.

"Your Car is in My Parking Spot"
Rocky was another impressive genius on the dock. Well, not really. He was just like his name implied, big, dumb brute. One day he went outside to McDonalds to get some lunch, and when he returned someone had taken his parking space. Rocky decided to solve the problem in a more efficient method than simply asking that person to move their car. He went inside, got the 6 foot long forks and slid them onto a nearby forklift. Then he drove the forklift down the ramp to the parking lot, around the building, down the street and into the employee lot. He then proceeded to move the offending car with his forklift. He was just shocked to be reprimanded for this action when he was through. He said it seemed wise and logical to him. Amazing. This was the same guy who one day returned from his route with an air compressor the size of a buick in the back of his trailer. He had found it in a junk sale on the way back to the dock. When asked why he bought it he replied "I just wanted one." No one bothered to ask how he was going to get it home.

One incident sticks furthest out in my mind as a turning point while on the docks. I'm not sure why this particular incident sticks out so well, it surely wasn't the worst or most difficult. Like I've mentioned before, I wasn't well received and was under heavy suspicion for motive when I started my local truck driving job. That wasn't the only difficult part. For some of the guys motive didn't matter, they could care less why I was there - they just didn't like the fact that I was. From after the fact I can tell you with assurity that most of the problems were these...
I was a young woman, only 21, and many of these guys were in their late 40's, 50's and 60's supporting families and proud of their job and ability to do so. To have it shown that some young kid - a girl no less - could come in and make the same pay seemed an insult to their pride. Let me clarify that it wasn't the fact that I was female. It was that combined with my size and obvious youth. Accepting me as an equal in their job seemed difficult.

I'm not just out pissing in the wind here hoping to hit a tree, in case you were curious. These same guys were the ones to years later tell me what they had been thinking. So in a nutshell that was some of the problem. Next difficulty was that some of them were obnoxious pigs. I wasn't working with saints or angels. I was hit on or put down more times than a golf ball during the PGA Tournament. Seems those moments should really stick out in my mind but they don't. Well, a few do, but not really as important.

I remember after one such incident which happened only a short time after I'd started, maybe 3 weeks. This one guy was a pest. So for some back-up I went to a few co-workers. One of them, 'Big Al' (it was not meant as reverse psychology...the dude was huge), who also happened to be one of the union reps told me, "Teamsters don't tell on Teamsters." What he meant and explained was that any such incidents would be handled outside of management. This is what I told him and I meant it, "Al, if there is ever an incident serious enough to warrant outside help, the guy who created the problem need not worry about me tattling to management. What he can worry about is explaining to his wife from jail why he was put there."

But back to the incident I mentioned in the beginning. Like I've said, forklifts were a delicate issue. The best ones were 'spoken for'. Often us newbies just waited for an opportunity to give one of those babies a test run. Of course everyone knew that as well. One night the dock was unusually slow. It happened sometimes. So we'd all head downstairs until the trucks started rolling in again. During these times a manager might come to grab one of us to unload a 'quickie'. Since everyone was downstairs all of the forklifts sat unused. I was grabbed one such night to go up and quick unload a few pallets.

I grabbed the first forklift I found nearest the trailer. It was Bill's favorite, not that I knew it or cared at the time. Bill was a silent fumer. He didn't like me on principle but usually had the respect to ignore me and keep his opinions to himself. I rarely talked to him but knew how he felt from gossip (men are as gossipy as a bunch of old women). As I began unloading the pallets up comes Bill from downstairs, to find me sitting on his lift unloading a truck.

Bill marches up to me and demands I find a new lift to use. His logic wasn't too unsound, after all there were 30 other lifts sitting around unused for me to grab instead. But for some reason I became as obstinate as a mule. For one thing, why should I find a new lift? I was doing nothing wrong in using the one I was sitting on. In fact - there were 30 other lifts for HIM to use, this one was busy. Just to be ornery I didn't tell him I'd only need it for 3 pallets. Let him think what he liked.

This set Bill off like a match. He starts yelling at me, and I mean yelling at the top of his lungs. He demanded at this point that I get off 'his' lift. I promptly demanded he show me the title to the damn thing. Was his name on it? Guess it wasn't his lift after all. At this point either the yelling or the urge to hit the docks was overcoming some of the other guys common sense to take a break. They were filing up the stairs to watch the show.

Bill must have blown an internal fuse at this point. He started cussing me out at the top of his lungs. All sorts of nasty words were bestowed on me at a 35 decible level. I don't know what came over me but a mule could've taken lessons. It was like my fingers became glued to the steering wheel in case Bill decided to forcibly remove me from it. I didn't say anything but looked like one of those really annoying people that just looks stubborn and shakes their head without speaking. The more he talked the more he lost his cause. I lost all train of thought except for 'I will not give up this lift till I'm done with it.' (and yes he scared the crap out of me...lol)

Bill gave up when he finally realized he had just given me a really great case to become a millionaire in court. Gathering his pride and friends he stepped over to the breakroom door. After unloading my 3 pallets I got off the lift and went back downstairs. Never looked to see what he thought of that.

It was obvious to everyone after that what Bill thought of me. Some little dorks hailed Bill as a hero for stating what they wished they had the courage to say...and at such a volume in front of everyone! Others ignored Bill because he had blown his cool - which wasn't cool. As for me life went on. About a year later, maybe a little more or less, Bill walked up to me. I was surprised to say the least. We had developed an ability to work together when forced to, and pretend nothing is wrong (like some marraiges I can think of), but he never spoke to me without a work reason - ever. Anyways he came up to apologize for that one incident. It was a damn fine apology, I was impressed. The guy really did have a knack for the English language when he was thinking clearly.

He told me he had waited in fear for months to get the word he was being fired or sued. Or both. When that didn't happen he wondered why. He never admitted these fears to his friends, who I guess weren't smart enough to think of it. In any case he said his 'friends' continued to bad mouth me with Bill, thinking they had a common cause. But as the months rolled by and nothing happened, and his friends continued to crow in his ear he began to hear them for what they were, and see me for who I might be. He switched friends. Upon doing so he began to see what my friends thought of me, now out from under the 'bad' influence of his nasty acolytes. This was what prompted him so much later to appologize.

He didn't even do it in private, although he didn't seek an audience, just found me at a trailer. Even all this time later I still had a few die-hards who didn't like or trust me. That ended for the most part once and for all the day Bill apologized. They knew he didn't have to. They knew it wasn't because I had befriended him. They knew he meant it. After that we actually did become friends to some extent and you know what? Bill really was a great guy. They all were great guys.

Since the trucking company I worked for had terminals all over the US, and thousands of drivers both over the road and local, none of them female except me, I was often mistaken for a secretary by drivers freshly arrived from other terminals. Over the road drivers drove at night, delivering freight to other terminals to be sorted by us dockworkers on the graveyard shift and reloaded into local trailers for delivery each morning. Each terminal had accomodations with a nearby hotel for taxi service to pick up drivers and provide rooms for them to sleep in during the day. It was the job of office secretaries to call the hotels and inform them there was a new group of drivers just arrived to come and pick up.

Now on nice mornings we often took our breaks outside. Drivers from other terminals had been told there was now a woman driver up in Minnesota (it was the big gossip), but I guess a good description didn't follow the gossip, or it was too difficult for them to believe it was me upon first meeting me. The secretaries usually dressed nice, and did NOT in general take breaks outside or in any way mingle with the drivers, so usually I got a few strange looks as I sat decked out in work boots and jeans lounging outside on the steps having a smoke. I have to admit after awhile it became tiresome. Finally one day I had had enough. A driver gave me an odd look and then said, "Have you called the hotel yet for the taxi? We've been waiting for an hour!" Being as I hadn't of course...lol...I said, "Nope" and left it at that. His glower would have melted steel. That is until the other drivers stopped hee hawing long enough to inform him that I was a driver.

People have often asked me how I drove a semi since I am so small (5 feet tall even if you missed my previous post). All sorts of dumb questions like 'Did they put blocks on the pedals?' have followed. For those of you who don't know, the inside of a truck cab is the same as a car. It's not 'bigger'. So for awhile I was sore at being constantly asked. That is until I met Ben. Ben was an over the road driver from another terminal.

I have been told by my ex-husband, who is 6'5" tall, that he feels strange being around people who are taller than him. It is an unusual occurance. Being so short I can say the opposite is true for me. It is unusual to meet people shorter than me. It almost never happens, and if it does they are always women. Then one night I was waiting for paper work when a guy so short he came to about my chin (maybe my nose) walked into the docks. He was older, about 50, and an over the road driver. I'm sure he is used to getting stares for his height, but I just couldn't stop because he was shorter than me! After that I felt silly for being sore when questions were directed at me refering to height. After all - they have to be nothing compared to what he must endure.

As a general rule on the graveyard shift working the docks some fun is needed to be had in order to break-up the boredom and keep us awake. With so many people working the docks, there was an endless supply of laughter and fun. While a fast wit and a good joke were great mood lighteners, pranks and practical jokes had to be executed in order to really enjoy an evening. Here are a few of my favorites.

Turtle Dan had the misfortune to lack a neck. He was an older guy with a bald head and the biggest biceps you can ever expect to see on a guy that age. He was not cut, he had earned his muscles the old fashioned way and was a farmer through and through. He also happened to resemble a turtle. Add to this that he wasn't very bright and you have a butt of a joke waiting for the right person. Now lots of the guys never ever played or participated in pranks of any kind. They were stalwart, serious individuals 'above childishness'. So it was extra fun when they suddenly showed up to help play out a prank. It also made it easier to play one with them involved.

Enter Dan. His forklift ran out of fuel one morning, so leaving his lift where it was (as is usual) he took the empty tank out to get a replacement. Enter Mike. Mike decided to take this opportunity to hide Dan's lift. Using his own forklift Mike lifted the end of Dan's lift and proceeded to push it down to the other end of the dock...the no man's land, rarely used part of the dock. He hid it well between 2 tall stacks of pallets. Here returns Dan, lugging his new tank.

Since I was unloading the trailer right there I was able to enjoy the full show. At this time in the morning there were not too many pallets on the floor. Nevertheless, upon returning to find an empty spot where his forklift had been, Dan started searching behind 3 foot tall pallets. I guess he thought it might have shrunk. Soon the head scratching and confused looks began. I am by this point trying really hard to remain upright with a straight face. Holding my stomach while I drummed my heels on the floor in fits of laughter were coming soon. Just then enters Warren.

Warren never plays jokes - ever. So Dan definately doesn't suspect a thing - and frankly the rest of us thought he had arrived to ruin the joke. The first thing Turtle Dan does is to accuse Warren of stealing his lift - claiming the one Warren was sitting on was his. Not even the same make, a look at the numbers would have been a good clue. Plus the fact that Warren has his 'chosen' lift - he never leaves it....and indeed he was on it. Calling Dan an old fool (takes one to know one) he soothes Dan with the promise of 'help'. Dan proceeds to explain the sad tale of the forklift that was driven away without a fuel tank. Lots of head scratching accompanied his story. "How about we go take a look for your lift - I'll give you a ride" Warren suggests. Dan missed Warren's evil smile. Up onto the forks he went with his fuel tank.

Now we know Warren knows where that lift is. But instead, with a grin to us like an evil Santa Claus, off he drives in the opposite direction. Dan is craning his neck - ever vigilant to find his lift. Around the entire dock they went before Warren finally 'spotted' Dan's lift. Dan complained about us 'jerks' for some time.

The log in the trailer was another quick and dirty prank to play. Forklifts have no suspension and can be a rough ride. Bumps hurt. They also scare the crap out of you. All this prank required was a piece of lumber (usually a 2 X 4) and a fast runner. As soon as your prey enters his trailer, you throw the lumber into his trailor behind him where he is sure to hit it at high speed while in reverse. Always a winner.

If your warehouse shelving could use an update, try thesepallet racks. Buy new and used pallet racks or one of these cantilever racks from a variety of brands.

The list of stupid things that were said or happened to me because of my age, size and gender as a woman truck driver would be very long. It's not just that I was a girl, but that I was a girl that looked like a cute 14 year old (ok...maybe 12). A constant occurance happened while delivering freight. I would have to park the truck and go inside to ask where to back up my truck or put the freight. This involved finding the dock manager of the company. You couldn't just back into any open dock, so I'd park my truck somewhere near the docks and walk in. Now the company I worked for didn't require or have uniforms. So it was not instantly apparent to someone new who I was with. The conversation with the dock managers usually went something like this.

"Hi, I have a delivery for you. Where do you want it?"
After a brief look me over - "You can just bring it in and set it down here at my desk."
"No I can't. I need to know which dock you want the truck in."
"I don't want to waste dock space...I'll come out and get it."
"Ok. You see that big huge truck over there? It's FILLED with stuff for you, and I'm driving it. Now I'll ask again. Where do you want the truck?"

This was usually followed by a line of dock employees (and any other employees told and fast enough to make it out to the docks) standing out to watch me back up the truck. After awhile I was an expert at backing these things up. I remember this one particular place. They had a CRAPPY dock parking lot, with very little space. Breaks for lunch were taken at a little picnic table under a tree next to the docks. They were very used to having their lunch entertainment be watching drivers try to get their trailer into the dock.

I showed up and a few extra people came out to an early lunch just to watch the fun. I quickly spun the truck around and they really got interested. Apparently I was told later no one had ever lined it up with that method before (circling the truck around the lot and to the left) so they were really expecting some fun. I backed it right in first try - perfect. After that on my next visit even more people showed up at the picnic table, the previous watchers taking bets on my success from their unsuspecting co-workers. I hear they made a good profit from me over the next few months.

One of my favorites that made me laugh for a good long time was a small dock with just one worker. He was an old guy that definately could have used some wine, women and a haircut. I showed up and he said with a big smile, "You're the best looking delivery driver I've seen all day!" I ignored him and started to fill out paperwork. After a pause he said, "I bet that just made your day" with a stupid grin. I said, "Considering the competition, not really, but maybe if you had been Brad Pitt it would have."

After working the docks for a few weeks I was informed that my driving test would be in February (I started the beginning of January). I had been taking as many opportunities as possible to back up the trucks and drive around, but I still felt ill prepared. Many of my co-workers felt this would be the end of me - even if I did fine I would not pass. Once I stopped being a 'Casual' (on probabtion) and moved to 'The List' I would be impossible to fire, with the union behind me. This driving test was the only official thing standing between me and that list...barring an accident or hair parted funny.

That day in Feb. came, and with it snow. I had never driven any distance in snow with a semi, so I was a wreck. I did the test ok, the only thing I did wrong was leave my turn signals on too long. In a semi there is no 'automatic shut-off' for the turn signal when you complete a turn. You have a turn it off yourself. I was too jittery to remember. So we blinked our whole way through. Everytime I noticed it blinking still I would casually shut it off - I must have done this 6 times, but I never mentioned it. What he doesn't notice won't hurt him, and I'm not going to point it out.

After the test I waited inside to hear the news of pass or fail. 6 drivers were given the test that day, so it was a long wait. When the news came back that all passed but 1, everyone was sure it was me. But it was some other guy - I passed! Now I just had to make it to 'The List', and I could breathe easy. I finally made the list the beginning of March. It was a great day I can tell you. No more worries, and I would soon have some seniority. The company was on a hiring binge so it didn't take long to be halfway up the seniority list.