Belchertown, MA

Yeah, Belchertown. It was settled sometime in the early 1700's. It is 86 degrees and humid as hell. The sky to the northwest quickly turned black and it poured cats and dogs for about 30 minutes. Then it all blew away and it's beautiful now at 3:43pm. Getting wi-fi service has been a problem. I got this signal, albeit a weak one, so at least I can check my e-mail and do a quick post. After leaving Tampa last week I delivered to Edenton NC. Picked-up at the same place and had the weekend to drive 625 miles to Hudson NY then onto the 2nd stop here in Belchertown. I just wanted to check in and I'll certainly have more toward the end of the week. Be safe out there. The photo credit is http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belchertown,_Massachusetts

Let's do a quick update...

1. The Sirius/XM merger is "embarrassingly" stalled.
2. We have not attacked Iran yet, nor has Israel for that matter.
3. Diesel prices are still going up, up and up.
4. Groceries and medical care are also (still) insanely out of control.
5. I'm still from New Zealand, according to my US passport.
6. I still don't have an APU on my truck.
7. I just received my AARP membership card. Goodbye OOIDA.
8. We need less troops in Iraq and more in Afghanistan.
9. There is about 4 months until the "big" election.
10. I am still an OTR truck driver. Damn.
11. I'm still eat'n and lov'n tomatoes.
12. I use Verizon and still do not have an IPhone.
13. I still can't purchase affordable nationwide WI-FI service.

Have you ever been to Borneo?

I haven't, but Mrs. Grumpy and I were in the China Sea and did visit Malaysia. Point is, right here in Florida, it's our winter. By that I mean it's in the mid-nineties and the humidity is at or above 100%. It is miserable and clearly the worst time of the year - weather wise. Just like in the rain forests of Borneo. That's why it's our winter. This is the price you pay for living in Florida. In fact, is so hot and humid, that unless you're a tourist, you don't even want to go to the beach, be on a boat or be in a pool. It's just too hot! What you want to do is stay inside in the air conditioning until about late September, when it should be ok to go outside again. Now would be a great time to visit Maine or northern Michigan and take advantage of the lower humidity and temps. Today, I'm reporting to you from home where I've been since last Friday afternoon. My last delivery was to some coil place in Palatka FL. The photo of one of their "first-class" signs is what you see, taken by yours truly, V. Grumpy.

Trucking - Hot Molten Sulfur...

I had gone in to apply to for a “local” or intra-Fl flatbed job – home every night – or at least every weekend. The guy seemed uninterested. His office was dismal. It was dirty and a mess. Everything on the walls was dusty and old. The paint a faded disgusting green color. His desk was a piece of metal junk. Cigarette butts overflowed from the ashtray onto the floor.

He pointed upstairs. “What’s that?” I asked. “Tanker”, he replied. Tanker? Oh well, what the hell. So I went upstairs and met with one of the too-friendly phony ex-stripper type female recruiters. Of course she promised the world, and being desperate for a great local job, I bought it hook line and sinker. I didn’t want to drive all night or start really early in the morning. I would work weekends if I had to. I won’t give you the whole request list, because I was stupid to think she would not agree to any of it to get another driver on board. I signed and make a pact with the devil called Commercial Carriers, better known as CCC.

After the usual pre-employment nonsense, I was told to report for orientation. I had to drive about 50 miles from my house to Mulberry, FL. At least I didn’t have to go Greyhound. In this part of Florida they mine phosphates for fertilizer industry. There’s not much else going on. And this is where I had to sit for about 2 ½ days. I watched boring videos about HAZMAT and how not to operate CCC equipment. We all took the HAZMAT test together and amazingly we all passed.

Next - after 2 of my classmates left – they failed the drug screen – it was time to get our “personal protection” gear. Tall rubber boots, hard hat with ear industrial ear muffs and a large face screen, thick long thick rubber gloves, a pair of regular work gloves and a bunch of other crap that seemed unnecessary and excessive. When I put it all on, I looked like I was going fly fishing in a toxic waste dump. Standing in an air conditioned room, with everything on, I was profusely sweating. And I was going to have to wear this outside in the Florida heat.

Before we were released from training, it was time to get our assignments Remember I said, I told my friendly recruiter no nights or early morning and I would drive on the weekends only if really necessary. I was told to report to the Tampa terminal to meet with my trainer at 3am Monday morning. I would be working 6 days a week from Monday to Saturday and have Sunday off. I might be get another day off during the week later, maybe.

How does one start work at 3am? When do I go to sleep? When do I eat? When do I have a life? I think I tried to go to bed at 7pm completely inconveniencing my wife who pretty much leads a “normal” life. She get to watch the late night news and a little bit of Jay Leno.

I darkened the room. I closed the door. This was absurd. I should have just forgotten the whole thing right there and then. But then I’m a dope. And I was desperate and had bills to pay. So there I lay, tossed and turned like a frankfurter roasting at a Pilot. I stared at the ceiling for hours. I listening to my wife have a life – she had the TV on, she put out the dogs, she made the coffee for the next day and she didn’t have to get her job until 8am. I was miserable.

2am. No need for the alarm to go off, I’m wide awake. It’s pitch black outside. It’s also hot and humid. Christmas is not far away and it’s in the 80’s. I jump in the shower. I put on my work clothes. Not even my three dogs wake up to say goodbye and wish me luck. Their not stupid. I jump in the car. I’m off to meet with the trainer. I have about 40 minutes to get there.

There is nobody else on the road. I got there in 20 minutes. I park and got out of the trunk all my personal protection equipment. I walk upstairs to the dreary dispatch office. The graveyard shift dispatcher is there. Another driver was there turning in his paperwork before heading home. He looked like a zombie. The dispatcher was smoking and drinking Pepsi. I said good morning. He grunted. I said I’m here to meet with so and so. He didn’t know anything about it. I said I’d wait.

The only place to sit was an old picnic table. That’s where all the drivers did their paperwork. You had to watch out for the splinters. On the other side of the room was the recruiting office where this “adventure” began. The clock said 2:50am. Tick, tick, tick – I could hear the second hand move around the dial. The only access to coffee was behind the dispatcher. I didn’t want to bother him. Besides coffee would only make me more nervous than I already was. I hadn’t slept since the day (or night?) before. All I could think about was being somewhere else. Any minute I would have to meet with someone I don’t know and possibly spend the next two week with them driving a tanker in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep.

3am. 3:15am 3:45am. 4:05am. 4:30am. I waited and waited. And then this little female in her 40’s or 50’s walks in. She ignores me. She goes to the dispatch window to bullshit with the guy. She was wearing a clean white shirt with a “trainer” patch on it. This must be her I said to myself. She flaunted the “trainers” shirt like a queen wears a crown. I was allowed to blue only. I say something. Yup, she was the one. She was friendly. I hated to say it, but I told her I’d been here since 2:50am. Oh yeah she said, I’m sorry, hell of a night, I overslept. Won’t happen again.

The day ended about 3pm. I couldn’t wake to get home. Driving a tanker turned out to be easy. Visibility is excellent. The surge effect is manageable. Stopping at every set of railroad tracks takes some getting used to. It seemed to me that stopping was more of a safety hazard then just driving off them. Back in orientation, we were told that there were many accidents, especially at night and early in morning – when I was driving. Seems that 4-wheelers driving at that time did not pay attention to the tankers stopping at the rail crossing, and they crashed into the rear. Despite CCC putting a bright orange beacon on the top rear of the tanker, cars were still slamming into the trailers.

I tried going to sleep without much success. I got up again without an alarm. I felt like I had a severe case of jet lag. I got to the terminal at 2:45am. And I waited and waited and waited. 4am. She shows up and apologizes. Won’t happen again. She decides that we need to spend some “office” time going over all the paperwork – logs, time cards, etc. As a “local” driver you are in a intrastate loop hole of DOT regs. You keep a log book, but you really don’t need one. You need to punch a time card. A pre and post trip form has to be filled out. There was more. I never understood any of it. Maybe if I got some sleep it would have made some sense to me in time.

After that, we went out to the yard to find a “good” trailer. That would be one that wasn’t falling apart and had all its “parts” intake including a land gear crank. We selected the best one available. I did the pre trip. She walked behind me. I thought we were ready to go. She did not. We spent hours waiting for the maintenance folks to repair something that she thought needed to get repaired. We just could have gotten another trailer.

Day #3. I have the sneaking suspicion that this is just not going to work for me. I thought I could make it work, but I was wrong, again. Desperation makes you do stupid things. Taking this job was one of them. I hated the fact that I need to drive around with a trainer – especially an anal retentive one. The day before she yelled at me for braking when a dog ran out in front of the truck. “Never do that again!.” She screamed.

Today we are going to pull a different type of “tanker”. No hot molten sulfur. We were going to pick up and deliver some kind of smelly dusty fertilizer. We waited at the shipper for two hours in a long line of trucks waiting to load. Tick, tick, tick. I could hear the second hand of the large clock she had in the truck. Finally we got to move. I pulled inside. They used the duck, rope and buzzer system of loading. I couldn’t believe any of this.

She tells me to open my window. I comply. All of sudden from somewhere appears a little yellow duck with a red beak attached to a rope. I look at it and the duck looks at me. What the hell am I supposed to do now? She says to take this plastic card and stick it in the ducks bill and tug. I comply. A minute later a loud buzzer buzzes and the truck shakes. We are getting loaded. The buzzer buzzes. So what do I do now? She says move forward until the buzzer buzzes. I comply. The truck shakes again and the rear of the trailer gets loaded with more smelly VERY dusty fertilizer.

Buzzzz. Move forward. Buzzz. Stop. Open the window again. I closed it to prevent choking from the dust. Down comes the duck with that card and a bill of lading in its bill. I remove it. Up goes the duck. Buzzz. Time to leave. Thank goodness. Today comes to an end at 7pm.

I get home. I am full of fertilizer dust. I still smell like rotten eggs from dealing with hot molten sulfur the day before. Mrs. Grumpy says to strip in the garage next to the washer dryer. She hands me a old towel and orders me into the shower. I’ve spend the last three days being ordered around by a little anal retentive female at the mercy of a buzzing duck. And I’ve had no sleep.

Day #4. Christmas. 2am. No need for the alarm. Screw getting them on time. I stopped at 7-11 and had breakfast. I got to the terminal at 4am. And guess what? She’s there waiting for me. Ha! I told her it won’t happen again. Florida is a right to work state. Not many unions around. Ok, so the UPS guy driving next to me is a Teamster and makes about $20 a hour. I’m here at 4am on Christmas with my anal retentive little female trainer looking forward to spending the next 12 hours driving shit around Florida. I never understood the pay system, but trust me, it was terrible – slave wages. The more round trips you made you more you got paid. Anyway, this day ended at 5pm and I would be off tomorrow.

I never went back. Despite all the incredible hardships I was once again putting my wife through, I could not do this job. I should have NEVER even taken the job. The turnover at CCC was 200%. The working conditions terrible. The equipment horrible. I never want to on Christmas again. I never want to have to wake up at 2am to go to work. I asked the trainer if could I get a better schedule after training. She said this 3am start time would be my schedule. I could keep on asking, but then they might be able to switch me a midnight or 4am or 9pm schedule. Only the most senior drivers that have been stupid enough to put up with this shit for a while get the better “daytime” schedules. I won't be one of them.

The photo is V. Grumpy. It is a hugh "pile" of manure covered by a white tarp held down by sliced old tires. Just the kind of thing you see (and smell) as a CCC driver.

My first trucking job...

was at a company called Ploof. It is now Cypress Truck Lines. I'm proud to say that I have been banned from ever being employed by them - forever. I worked for Ploof right out of trucking school. The school was in Davie, FL and it cost me $430.

I applied for the Ploof job by taking a road test in an "ancient" Mack conventional with 1 seat. Knowing Cypress, I'm sure this truck is in service somewhere. The driver who went with me made me drive him home in the worst drug invested crime ridden neighborhood in Miami. I sat in the truck with no air conditioning, in the 100 degree Florida heat and humidity with him inside his little house. Every window had bars. The front door had bars. I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. A man came up to the front of the truck. He had a broom stick with an Arby's bag on the end. He stood there, certainly high on something, holding with stick with the Arby's bag up in the air. I have no idea what he wanted. What I wanted was the other driver to come back outside and get me out of this horrible neighborhood.

Two weeks later, I'm at the Ploof Tampa terminal to meet with my trainer. A former US Army "noncom", I don't remember much about him, other than I didn't like him. He was idiot. He had a mustache. I don't like moustaches. I'm don't know what happened to him and I don't care. His truck was, even then, a late model White/GMC/Volvo something or other. It was a conventional and cab-over rolled into one. There was no sleeper, but there was a not very wide "bed" in back of and above the two front seats. There was no room for anything. I was a lot thinner back then and could barely fit back there. Ploof decided we were to share a motel room every night until he felt "comfortable" that I could handle the job alone.

So it's the first night. It was late. We were in the room. He told me I couldn't call home and talk to my wife because Ploof would not pay for the call. I said I'd pay for it. He told me to take a shower. I said I don't shower at night - I do it in the morning to wake up. I had a robe on. He called it a "house coat." He asked why I was wearing it. I ignored him. I don't stand around in my underwear when I'm a motel room with an idiot, especially a idiot with a moustache.

Lights out. I was exhausted. I was emotionally drained, not from driving the truck, but from being with this moron. I had just fallen asleep. Something woke me up. He was snoring. Snoring so loud that I'm quite sure the door to the room was shuddering. And he had a bad case of sleep apnea. He would stop breathing and then wake up, quickly fall asleep again and then the loud snoring would resume. It was like sleeping with a sick whale.

Day 2. Day 3. I did not sleep. I was driving a truck with one eye closed. I was so tired. There were no cell phones, no GPS's, no laptops and NO QUALCOM. Everything had to be done over the telephone. We had to call and wait on hold for just about everything.

Day 4. One more day to go until we're back at the Tampa terminal and I can go home for the weekend. It was 9pm and we're in Jacksonville. We go out for dinner at a Waffle House kind of place with other Ploof drivers, who all used to be in the "peacetime" Army. I was as uncomfortable as Donald Trump at a Flying J. And I could barely stay awake. My head almost dropped in my plate of spaghetti.

After eating we went back to the terminal. He told me to get some "shut-eye" in the truck. He would rest in the drivers lounge. I got in the truck and squeezed in the tight "sleep compartment." I never slept in a truck. There was no snoring, but the engine noise and vibration and heat from being on top of the engine along with being severely overtired, kept me awake. If I had any drugs to help me sleep, I would have surely used them.

2am. He got back to the truck. Time to leave. Oh my God. No sleep. He wanted me to drive down to Tampa while he slept. We left the terminal. It took every ounce of will power and strength to drive. I made about 1/2 way. We stopped at a rest area. He told me to continue to drive. I told him I couldn't. I had nothing left to give. He was very unhappy, but he drove the rest of the way.

We delivered our load in Tampa and arrived at the terminal about noon. He checked in and was told not to go home, but deliver another load somewhere with me. He got very angry and had a heated argument with the terminal manager. I just watched. He won. He walked to his car and I walked to mine. I waved and told him I'd see him Sunday night. I lied.

I never went back. That night I wrote a letter to the terminal manager. I don't recall what it said. It doesn't matter. I never drove for Ploof again. A week later I was up in NJ helping Mrs. Grumpy take care of her elderly sick parents.

Recently I saw a similar truck, this time with Cypress markings. I laughed. The unit must be 20 years old. I wouldn't drive for Cypress if they were the last trucking company on the planet. Anybody that asks me, I tell them to go anywhere else other than Cypress. And for the new truck drivers that are reading this, I advise you do the same thing.

Alabama to be new site of VW plant...

Truck drivers can see the pearly white clean Mercedes plant from the interstate in Alabama. Thyssen Krupp, the steel maker, plans an Alabama facility. And according to Reuters, Volkswagen will choose to build their new US plant, not in Michigan or Tennessee, but Alabama. Michigan surely needs the jobs, but its ripe with drugs, crime, poverty and lousy weather. Nissan is in Smyrna TN. The Krupp plant will be in Mobile, and Alabama has given them an estimated $800 million dollars in incentives. For more information go to: http://www.leftlanenews.com/alabama-emerges-as-front-runner-for-vws-us-plant.html

Things aren't what they seem...

Truck drivers see a lot of things when they're on the road. I don't think they've seen anything like this. And please understand, I'm not judging. As long as you don't hurt anyone else, in my book you can pretty much do anything you damn please. But, this case definitely caught my attention.

Now what we have here is a women who wanted to be (look like) a man. But, she now he, but really still a she - because he really she did not alter her now he "private parts." In other words, she did not get rid of her vagina - and the necessary equipment to get pregnant. She did not have the surgeons create a penis, to complete the transformation from women to man. She did elect to have her breasts removed. Do you follow so far?

His, her, name is now Thomas Beatie, 34, legally a male and married to a woman. This photo of "Tom" is not of a pregnant man, but of a pregnant women. She just looks like a man who consumes a lot of beer. Actually, she looks like the Werner driver parked near me. JUST KIDDING!

She gave birth to a baby girl last week. I hope everyone is happy and healthy.

To read the first hand account by Mr. Beatie, go to http://www.advocate.com/exclusive_detail_ektid52947.asp and for other information, go to http://abcnews.go.com/Health/story?id=5302756&page=1

Now now boys...Who is the Yenta?

Mr. (former General) Wesley Clark believes that Sen. McCain's military record and his "experiences" as a POW does not qualify him to be President. That, of course, is absurd. I'm not a fan of Mr. Clark or Sen. McCain. This is big boys playing with big toys. It is Navy against Army. It is a perfect example of the media focusing in on what I call "yentaism". That's yen-ta-ism. Yes, former Gen. Clark is a yenta. Ooooo, did you hear what Wesley Clark said? Oooo, isn't that terrible! Gen. Clark, to me as a voter, represents nothing. I don't care about him. I don't think about him. And if the media didn't report on his "yentaisms" because they are yentas themselves, I would never think about former General Wesley Clark. By the way, both men have impressive backgrounds, but McCain has been a US Senator since 1986. He is also Chairman of the Commerce Committee. And I believe that qualifies him to serve as President. His military record only makes him more valuable. The photos are from Wikipedia and the McCain official campaign site.

Senator "NO" Dies...

Sen. Jesse Helms from North Carolina. No great loss. He was 86. This was a man from another time. A time that many Americans would like to forget. He was a self-proclaimed "redneck." He was, in reality, a far right wing conservative racist that even Ronald Reagan called a "thorn in my side." He represented the worst of America. He was against Federal funding to find a cure for AIDS, against civil rights for Gays, against women's rights, against, against, against. He served 30-years in the Senate. Larry Margasak of the Associated Press reports that "As a television commentator before running for the Senate, Helms said, "Dr. (Martin Luther) King's outfit ... is heavily laden at the top with leaders of proven records of communism, socialism and sex perversion, as well as other curious behavior." He called the Civil Rights Act of 1964 "the single most dangerous piece of legislation ever introduced in the Congress." Our sources for this posting are http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080704/ap_on_go_co/helms_remembered and http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/05/us/politics/00helms.html?pagewanted=1&hp&adxnnlx=1215223218-NmSzM3QEzEp1fECQY%20l4uw

BREAKING NEWS

Via the Associated Press & The New York Times from New York - "Joey (Jaws) Chestnut reclaimed the top spot at the annual hot dog eating contest in Coney Island on Friday after first tying with arch rival Takeru Kobayashi in a 10-minute chow-down and then beating him in a five-dog eat-off. The men tied at 59 frankfurters in 10 minutes, before being made to gobble another five dogs in a last-minute tiebreaker. They consumed 64 hot dogs total and were looking quite peaked after the competition."

You will notice that Mr. Chestnut is remarkably not overweight. His other records are numerous and impressive. For example, he managed to consume 78 matzoh balls at the World Matzoh Ball Eating Championship in Houston, TX on 3/2/08, 241 chicken wings at Wing Bowl XVI in Philadelphia, PA on 2 1/08 and 103 Krystal Hamburgers in 8 minutes at the Krystal Square Off Finals in Chattanooga, TN on 10/28/07. You can learn more at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joey_Chestnut The credit for the photo is http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A9G_bF6xzW5IuXYBCGOjzbkF/SIG=125gafqi1/EXP=1215307569/**http%3A//www.flickr.com/photos/misscharo/722160207/ however, the original photo was edited by V. Grumpy on Adobe Photoshop.

Do you know about the...

The United States Special Operations Command. "To provide fully capable Special Operations Forces to defend the United States and its interests. Plan and synchronize operations against terrorist networks." Their website is http://www.socom.mil/. See the posting below on Seymour Hersh for the reason I am profiling this group. The commander is Admiral Eric T. Olsen. He is the first Navy "Seal" to be promoted to the rank of four-star admiral.

Do you know this man?

Seymour Hersh, Pulitzer Prize winning investigative journalist specializing in military and security issues. Famous for exposing the Mi Lai Massacre in Vietnam and the treatment of prisoners at Abu Ghraib in Iraq. He is a regular contributor to the New Yorker magazine.

I listened to an interview with him on NPR - Fresh Air with Terry Gross - this past week. I thought I'd heard more about the interview elsewhere in the newspapers or on the net. But, I've seen and heard nothing. Strange. What was he talking about? Covert US action in Iran. That's I R A N not Iraq. A "secret" CIA-military potentially "lethal" operation. I found what he said quite disturbing. How does he know so much about it? Is what he is reporting potentially damaging to what, if anything, we are doing over there to stop the development of nuclear weapons?

I did an earlier posting about Bush having only 6 months in office and wanting to attack Iran. That is precisely what Hersh is talking about now. In his New Yorker article "Preparing the Battlefield", he says that the Congressional "leadership" (8 senior politicians) approved $400 million for "destabilizing" actions to be conducted by (US) the Joint Special Operations Command.

Drivers, I strongly urge you to become more enlightened about what is going on. Follow this link to read the article http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/07/07/080707fa_fact_hersh/?yrail and go the the NPR site to hear more http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=92151813 The credit for the Hersh photo is http://www.washprofile.org/en/node/4804 For more on Hersh's background go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seymour_Hersh

What do they have in common?

THEY CAN'T BE FOUND!

Bin Laden - where the hell is he?

Jimmy Hoffa - disappeared.

Salmonella tainted tomatoes

- where did they come from?

The tomato photo credit is Gregory Bull/AP taken from the Time Magazine.

Elite Columbian Commando Unit?

Yeah right. Columbia is full of farmers, Communists, corrupt police and politicians, coffee and of course, cocaine. But elite commandos? I don't think so. The White House said that the US provided "specific support" in the rescue of three American contractors and Ingrid Betancourt. I've got to be honest with you. Until she was rescued, I never heard of Ms. Betancourt. I knew nothing about any Americans (she's French) being held captive in Columbia. And I consider myself a very knowledgeable person when it comes to what going on in the world. Apparently not. And FARC? FARC? Huh? The Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia? Never heard of them either. They reportedly still hold hundreds more "hostages." Anyway, although I obviously can't confirm this, those "elite" Colombian commandos just have to be our "Joint Special Ops Command" guys. According to The New York Times "they" used Israeli tracking "technology, whatever that means. Bottom line is, I just can't believe the Colombian army is capable of anything. Sorry. The logo is the Juan Valdez/Colombian Coffee industry logo.

Trucking - Want a Sirius/XM Merger Update?

I'm too disgusted over what the clowns at the FCC are doing, but if you really need an update, follow this link for the story: http://arstechnica.com/news.ars/post/20080702-senators-to-fcc-siriusxms-proposal-still-needs-work.html

Trucking - What are u doing on the 4th?

Me? I just deadheaded 325 miles from Reidsville, NC to Huger, SC for a load headed north to Grand Rapids, MI. I had just delivered a load north of Detroit. Then deadheaded 250 miles to Medina, OH to get the load to Lowe's in Reidsville. It's in the middle of no where. Whatever - they're paid miles.

Flash forward. The first set of beams were put on the trailer. They extended 5 feet off the rear, 3 feet off the front. I started to get worried. The next set of beams went on. The forklift driver was tired and very cranky. Screw it, he was an asshole. He's sitting in the lift in the air conditioning as I run around getting dunnage and making sure what he puts on is centered. The looks like he going to fall asleep. I cut him some slack - maybe he's working a second shift to cover for the holiday. I'm such a sweet guy - ha!

I look at the load. I get my tape measure. He drives away. Those second set of beams went over the rear of the trailer by 11 feet! 11 freak'n feet! Are these people kidding? We only very rarely do over sized loads. It's July 4th. The delivery ETA is Monday 8am. Permits, escorts, flags, over sized signs - forget it!

Two hours on the phone and sending messages over the Qualcom. The word comes down from the heavens - tell 'em to take it off. Well, they were just thrilled. We look like a bunch a morons. Somebody didn't tell us the load was 60 feet. The shipper says it's my fault. Right. Screw them.

I'm stuck here for 2 1/2 days over the freak'n weekend. I deadhead 100 miles to the T/A off I-95 in Manning, SC. It's 103 degrees. My company doesn't want me to idle. Oooo Kay. Mrs. Grumpy says go inside and grab and shower and some food. I did. Good idea. I feel better. But I'm still stuck here for 2 1/2 freak'n days.

The great photo is by http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A9G_bF9JpG5ImDkAy4ajzbkF/SIG=125at6t37/EXP=1215296969/**http%3A//www.flickr.com/photos/promaine/2362064240/