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some of my stories are not trucking as in a semi truck, but cross country traveling as migrant workers and bums, Transients etc.. I have hundreds..When i was A kid My mom and I, and occasionally my dad hauled hundreds of loads of scrap iron From Ehrenberg Arizona to phoenix Arizona in 1988 and 1989, with a 1959 gmc pickup and an old gooseneck trailer... And from White Sulphur Springs Montana to helena Montana in a 1957 ford two ton truck and a 1952 ford 2 ton bubble nose truck.. and we cut posts and poles in montana using these same trucks to haul the posts and poles out of the woods.. we for a many years did this montana in the summer working in the woods and hauling some scrap iron, then arizona picking fruit or hauling scrap iron... i hope its ok to add some of these stories along with my trucking stories...
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The 72 ounce steak is great or it always has been when I would order them. Usually I don't go for the steaks but I opt for the Rocky Mountain Oysters. They prepared them exactly the way I like them. I haven't been there for a long time but I may hop on the motorcycle next spring just to check them out again.
some of my stories are not trucking as in a semi truck, but cross country traveling as migrant workers and bums, Transients etc.. I have hundreds..When i was A kid My mom and I, and occasionally my dad hauled hundreds of loads of scrap iron From Ehrenberg Arizona to phoenix Arizona in 1988 and 1989, with a 1959 gmc pickup and an old gooseneck trailer... And from White Sulphur Springs Montana to helena Montana in a 1957 ford two ton truck and a 1952 ford 2 ton bubble nose truck.. and we cut posts and poles in montana using these same trucks to haul the posts and poles out of the woods.. we for a many years did this montana in the summer working in the woods and hauling some scrap iron, then arizona picking fruit or hauling scrap iron... i hope its ok to add some of these stories along with my trucking stories...
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Sounds good to me Virgil. I always appreciate a good story.
I did something similar one summer. A friend of mine salvaged wrecked aircraft in Alaska and the NW Territories of Canada. I got a call from him to help salvage a downed plane one summer. The plane crashed in rugged terrain and he needed someone to help him tear apart everything salvageable and pack it out to a pickup point. He lured me into the project with the promise of some good fishing and pocket money. I was in Montana tied up with a rig move in to Western Alberta waiting for the spring time frost restrictions to be lifted so I had some time to kill.
He was a Bush pilot and knew the area so he flew me and my helper to a lake about four miles from the wreck and gave us a detailed hand drawn map of where the wreckage was. He told us he would be back in four days to pick us up. We would split whatever he got for the salvage in thirds and expenses came out of his third. It sounded like a good deal to me!
The four mile hike to the wreck took three hours and was almost all uphill. By the time we got there and set up camp it was getting late in the evening so Jerry (? I'm not sure of the other guys name now) and I decided to fix a meal and hit the sleeping bags. Since we were in Alaska I was toting a Ruger .44 Mag Carbine. We were in Bear country but didn't see any. However we did hear wolves but never saw them either. Having an equalizer makes for better sleeping. We lugged the tools to the wreck site and luckily the airframe and cabin were fairly intact. The pilot had escaped injury and hiked out several miles to a Ranger station. He had unloaded his cargo at a mining camp and all he had for return freight was small items not worth much. The instruments and lightweight engine parts were first on the priority list. The first day we had removed all of the radio equipment and instruments plus the Turbochargers from the twin engines and packed them back to the pickup point by the Lake. We decided to hike back to the wreck site and sleep by the wreck so we could get and early start. Next we disassembled motors for valuable accessories etc. This was hard and exhausting work. On the fourth day we had about 600 pounds of salvageable materials to load on the plane. We loaded up the plane and the pilot decided I weighed too much so he would be back in two days to pick me up. He assured me the Lake we were using as a landing strip was full of fish. He left me with a rod and some gear and he helped Jerry and I set up the tent. We got that done and I felt like fish for supper. He was right about the fish but what he forgot to tell me was how bad the flies were around the Lake. I caught two real nice trout within ten minutes and headed back to the tent and the cook stove. The trout tasted great and the campsite was far enough from the Lake that the flies were not a problem. Part of the gear left with me included a Pith helmet with full netting and plenty of rubber bands for tying off pant legs and long sleeves. When I was within a hundred feet of the water I had to button up tight or those damned Black Flies would eat you alive. The fish must have loved them though because they sure were well fed. I was using barbless hooks and catching fish so fast it almost got boring. By the time the pilot came back I had my fill of fishing. When we were cruising at ten thousand feet he handed me a handful of cash as my third of the proceeds. I counted out over $1,800.00. Not bad for less than a weeks work in the 1970's. It was hard work but fun. I never volunteered to do it again though. My friend Bob, the pilot and owner of the plane, died in a crash in the area around Slave Lake several years later. The RCMP investigators thought that he might have had a heart attack before he augered in.
One of the things I really miss about being in the trucking business are the great "Tall Tales" sessions that occurred when several drivers would get together. Back in the day you could depend on hearing a few good stories when a group of drivers got together. Although you might not believe every story you heard you NEVER called the driver that told it a liar. Somebody once explained the difference between a Fairy Tale and a Tall Tale (truckers story) this way: A Fairy Tale begins with "Once upon a time" a truckers story begins with "You ain't going to believe this **** but it actually happened".
Is the current generation of drivers still carrying on with that fine oral tradition?
GL2
Yep, the tradition is still there! The good news is the internet has given "truckin' talk" a life of it's own. Perhaps drivers like me who run around in day cab tractors and bring their lunches to work are responsible for a decline. But there's no shortage of sleeper trucks on the highways (and a shortage of parking spots at night...) Speaking of which; You know how to tell when a trucker's lying, don'tcha? When you see his lips move!
I have a co-worker that's one of the best storytellers you'll ever meet. He'll have us rolling on the break room floor with his tales and jokes. The man also likes to pull everyone's leg SO often that if he says the sky is blue, most of us will go out and look to make sure. But, you know what? I'm pretty good with a truck for someone who graduated truck drivin' school. And if I'm broken down somewhere, this driver is the one I'd like to have come help me. Talk about "Roadside Engineering"; he can darn near fix anything and get the load delivered!
Yep, the tradition is still there! The good news is the internet has given "truckin' talk" a life of it's own. Perhaps drivers like me who run around in day cab tractors and bring their lunches to work are responsible for a decline. But there's no shortage of sleeper trucks on the highways (and a shortage of parking spots at night...) Speaking of which; You know how to tell when a trucker's lying, don'tcha? When you see his lips move!
The best storytellers are those who work in occupations where there is significant "alone" time. Cowboys, shepherds, and truckers are among the best. These occupations attract some ususual people.
The most recent adventure was a water tender fire truck. An older White GMC with a 425 Cat and an automatic
The ol' cat is the sweetest sounding engine. Jake Brake too.
The scariest in a truck was a 1957 Chevrolet with a 235 stovebolt setup as a water truck. I was heading up a gravel grade with some distance on it. I knew I was screwed at the bottom when I was already in 1st gear low. I made it about 2/3 they way up the hills when I ran out of power. So had to have help being pulled the rest of the way up the hill.
That summer I helping build a large house that was a partial log construction. I'd often times stage at the top of the hills with an old Cat #12 grader and heavy duty tow rope in case any of the trucks ran into trouble.
The most recent adventure was a water tender fire truck. An older White GMC with a 425 Cat and an automatic
The ol' cat is the sweetest sounding engine. Jake Brake too.
The scariest in a truck was a 1957 Chevrolet with a 235 stovebolt setup as a water truck. I was heading up a gravel grade with some distance on it. I knew I was screwed at the bottom when I was already in 1st gear low. I made it about 2/3 they way up the hills when I ran out of power. So had to have help being pulled the rest of the way up the hill.
That summer I helping build a large house that was a partial log construction. I'd often times stage at the top of the hills with an old Cat #12 grader and heavy duty tow rope in case any of the trucks ran into trouble.
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I know that helpless feeling of powering out near the top of a hill. Worse than that is having a super heavy piece of equipment behind you on your trailer and being in low gear with hot brakes and more downhill left. I have a few gray hairs on my head for that reason.
On a trip to the bottom of an open open pit coal mine in Alberta I had to have two Cat D-6's tied on to the back of the trailer to let me down into the pit. I don't think I would have made it safely without them. I never did haul any of the super heavy loads but I hauled plenty where I was grossing 100,000# to 120,000#. That was big enough for me.
in 1983 my family was traveling from Yuma Arizona to Minnesota by way of White Sulphur Springs Montana,(I dont know why) we had a early 60's ford two ton truck with a flat bed, half the bed was a home made house with a tarp for a roof and no windows, us kids all rode in the house on the back of the truck.. Some other people we met that were staying at the same camping area out by the colorado river were traveling with us..they had an AMC hornet, and a tiny travel trailer.. we made it to Las Vegas and our old ford truck gave up on us.. the police threatened to have it towed off the highway, but making it into Vegas dad traded the old two ton truck at a wrecking yard for an old cadillac hearse.. Put the licence plates off the truck on the hearse and put mud on them to camoflough them.. rented a u-haul trailer for one day and headed for Minnesota..Mom and dad slept in the u-haul and my sisters and I slept in the hearse.. running out of money for gas in idaho my parents sold plasma in idaho falls Idaho, then pawned a gun to never get it back.. in Montana the police recognized the montana licence plate, with the first two numbers being 47 for the county the plates were from and then, "T" meaning truck.. these plates were no good and had been on numerous vehicles but a hearse was a car and it having a u-haul made it really stand out.. we got caught with the bogus truck plates on our hearse, got a fine then were let go, we made it to minnesota with the basically stolen u-haul,(my parents did this often untill u-haul started using computers.. and us kids names could not be used anymore...
We're too busy truckin'!!! My company runs into Canada frequently and many of our drivers hate trucking in Canada. My home terminal in Ohio was the one of the staging point for Canadian loads and I frequently would get one coming off home time. I enjoy running Canada. When I returned to work one Sunday afternoon, all dispatch had was a load that delivered in Detroit the next morning. As I headed out to my truck with my load paperwork, I greeted a driver who had just been dispatched on a load to Ontario. I told him I'd sawp loads with him but mine only went to Detroit. He eagerly agreed and we arranged the swap with dispatch. As we headed back out to our trucks, he asked me for a favor; "Would you send my my mom in Jacksonville, FL a post card from Canada. I hardly get by to see her." So I said "Sure!". Sure enough, I delivered just outside Toronto and reloaded for Miami. With enough time on the load to have spent time at his mom's house...
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My company runs into Canada frequently and many of our drivers hate trucking in Canada. My home terminal in Ohio was the one of the staging point for Canadian loads and I frequently would get one coming off home time. I enjoy running Canada. When I returned to work one Sunday afternoon, all dispatch had was a load that delivered in Detroit the next morning. As I headed out to my truck with my load paperwork, I greeted a driver who had just been dispatched on a load to Ontario. I told him I'd sawp loads with him but mine only went to Detroit. He eagerly agreed and we arranged the swap with dispatch. As we headed back out to our trucks, he asked me for a favor; "Would you send my my mom in Jacksonville, FL a post card from Canada. I hardly get by to see her." So I said "Sure!". Sure enough, I delivered just outside Toronto and reloaded for Miami. With enough time on the load to have spent time at his mom's house...
