OldTroubador's Blog - page 6

So, you were called on to work this weekend. Guess what? I'm working too. Okay, so I volunteered - I volunteer to work every holiday. To me, they are just another working day. There's freight to be moved, and I'm going to move it.
But you and I are not the only ones working. Stand on the side of the highway and you will see thousands of trucks moving up and down the road. And with them are dispatchers and managers, making sure that things move as smoothly as possible. If a tire lets go, I'm not worried - a tire tech will be along in about an hour or two to change it and get me back on the road. If the problem is more serious, then a big hook will come out and tow me to a fix-it shop. Truck stops are open, with counter people, porters, waitresses and cooks, and diesel technicians all working to keep the freight moving.
And not just on the highways either - trains are still running, barges are moving up and down the rivers, and freighters and tankers are sailing the high seas. Planes are flying overhead and buses are riding that concrete ribbon. If someone or something has to move, there are people up front driving it where it needs to go.
Flip that wall switch - did the lights come on? They did and you know why? In power generating stations across the land, folks are there keeping the lights on. Nuclear, hydro-electric, gas powered, oil fired, coal fired - there are men and women in the control rooms and work spaces making sure the juice flows to your house. And if there is a problem on the line, linemen will be out to make things right - usually in the worst weather.
Stop off to get some gas for your pick-up truck. That came from refineries across the country which operate 24/7/365 with full shifts of workers. Pipelines move gas and hydrocarbons across the land and there are workers in the compressor stations, keeping the valves open and the product flowing.
Emergency service personnel are on the job too. Law enforcement officials from the federal level to the villages are ensuring our safety. Firefighters are ready to answer the call when it comes in. And this includes the volunteers who probably have to put down the burger fresh off the grill to come to the rescue. EMT's will join them and transport the injured to hospitals where staffs of doctors and nurses stand ready to make you feel better.
The Coast Guard is on duty on the waterways - ready to help stranded or injured boaters. And remember, they have to go out, they don't have to come back.
Speaking of, the U.S. military is also working, around the globe, many times far from home. They are on duty, on guard, and standing post Uh Rah!!!! And many will have to fly, walk, ride, or sail into harm's way - God Bless them.
Let's go to the city park and listen to a concert and watch the fireworks. Look around - lot of folks here working too. Musicians, roadies, sound and light techs, ticket seller and takers, food vendors, security. And do you really think those fireworks go off by themselves? Oh no, there are explosive experts working with hundreds of pounds of high explosives - setting them up then firing them off. All these people are working just for your entertainment.
Speaking of entertainment, let's watch some baseball. Yeah, it's a game, but those guys and gals are giving up their holiday to play. Rather see a race? Yep, same thing. And if you can't get to the stadium or the track, you can watch it on TV. Why? Because there are thousands of people working behind the scenes at the TV stations, remote locations, etc bringing the race or the game to your living room. And let's not forget the meteorologists telling us the weather (whether the weather is safe to be outside or not), the news crews and anchors, all of them. Radio too, spinning those tunes.
Those were some tasty burgers and some delicious ears of corn for supper. Yeah, they came from farmers who spent the day working to keep you fed. Hay needs cutting and baling, cattle need to be fed and watered, equipment needs to be fixed. They work long hours every day, including holidays, to keep food on their tables, and yours.
Millions of people are working today, just like you and I. Retail stores, warehouses, restaurants, factories, the list is endless. All working, even though it is a holiday weekend. We are all working, talking the talk, walking the walk, in solidarity with each other my working brother. But sympathy? Yeah, that shit ain't gonna happen.

Southside Johnny was, for years, the house band at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, NJ. He and Bruce Springsteen collaborated on many songs; Bruce also wrote some for Southside and Southside wrote some for Bruce. They could often be found joining the other on stage and members of each band would sit in with the other, whenever possible.
Growing up in central New Jersey in the late 70’s, these two groups, along with some other regionally known bands, formed the New Jersey sound. My circle of friends and I would listen to them, and Chicago, Earth, Wind, and Fire, and many other groups like that. But Southside and Bruce were the local heroes and were our “go-to” music when we got together. They also were the foundation of countless garage bands throughout the state.

Including ours. We spent the school year performing with the high school orchestra, concert band, marching band, and big band. But the summer was for us. Yeah, our band played dances at the junior high school and hit the high school stage a few times a year, but summer was when we really got our groove on.

Those hot summer nights. Get in from work, hit the shower and get a quick bite. Then, with an axe in one hand and a six-pack of Michelob in the other, we would head on out. It didn’t matter if it was practice, a jam session, or a paying gig. We lived to play. County fairs and block parties. Anywhere there was a crowd. When we had practice, folks would come by to listen and start dancing in the streets. We’d set it up, plug it in, flip the switches on and let it just wail. The bass and drums hitting the backbeat, the guitars and keyboard laying down some hot licks, and the horn section putting up a wall of sound. We didn’t just listen to the music, we made it the soundtrack of our youth.

Then we would tear it down and pack it away until tomorrow night. We’d climb into our cars – ’76 Impalas and ’73 LTD’s. We’d roll down the windows, turn up the radio, and with one hand on the wheel and our other arm around our best girl, we would go screaming down the boulevard, knowing there was magic in the night. We’d spring from cages on Highway 9, we were four wheeled, fuel injected, and stepping out over the line. On nights when the band wasn’t playing, we could be found cruising the backstreets, staying off the mean streets, looking for a secluded place where we could learn about love, or what we thought was love.

Then, the next night, or the night after, we would set it all up and do it again. It was summertime. The nights were hot, the beer cold, and the girls warm and wonderful. And we were having a party. Listening and playing the soundtrack of our lives.

Righteous.

It’s late at night. It’s been raining all day and the streets are wet. It’s the kind of darkness that swallows up the light from your headlights. The streetlights here, well only about half of them are lit. The rest have been shot out with BB guns – target practice for misspent youth. You’re just driving around, killing time, can’t sleep, nowhere to go.
It’s an old town, used to be an industrial town. But now it’s a dying town. Business has left. So have a lot of the people. You drive across the railroad tracks into the old warehouse/factory district. There’s nothing here except old brick buildings, empty and forlorn. Forgotten, like this dirty old town. If you came down here during the day, you would see that almost all the windows have been broken by thrown stones – more bored youth at work. Even the graffiti here is drab. The taggers quit doing their thing years ago – no one was around to read what they wrote. Trash still swirls in the breeze down here in the brick canyon.
You drive past blocks and blocks of abandoned buildings, shuttered stores, vacant lots. This town is as lost as you feel. Your tires bump over railroad tracks set in the street, rattle over cobblestone sections of road. A cat, or maybe it was a rat, runs across the street. During the day, pigeons fly in and out of the broken windows. Dead cars are parked along the curb, some of them might be homes for other lost souls.
A small patch of light on the next block catches your eye and you head that way. On the corner is an old neon sign that says J E’S TAV RN. There is a light coming from the window. Out front, a Dodge Diplomat, more rust than blue, sits half on the sidewalk. Crumpled fender, missing headlight, a trash bag for a window on the passenger side. Yeah, it belongs here. You park your car and walk to the door; it opens when you push on it. The interior is dark; not as dark as outside, but a dismal, depressing kind of darkness. Yeah, this is the place – it is the perfect match for your soul tonight.
As your eyes adjust, you can pick out the details. A few tables are scattered around, the chairs are orphans from somewhere else. A couple of people are sitting there; they raise their heads from staring at their drinks and watch you walk to the bar. You skirt a pool table that saw its best days when Truman was president, it seems. The outer edge is flecked with cigarette burns and decorated with the rings from a thousand beer bottles. The green felt is faded and nearly worn through to the slate where the balls were racked. And something stains the felt that looks suspiciously like dried blood.
Walking up to the bar, you sit on one of the old vinyl stools. The bar is cheap Formica, cracked and worn, large chunks missing. A couple of patrons sit at the bar also. One has a dozen or so long necks, obviously empty, sitting in front of him as he takes a pull from yet another. Just past him sits a man with a half empty shot glass and a worn out whiskey bottle in front of him. Each has a pack of Marlboro’s sitting on the bar next to an old Zippo lighter. The ashtrays are almost full. At the end is an old man with a pack of Camel non-filters; one is between his second and third finger, burning almost to his skin. He just sits there as the smoke coils up from the fire, finally moving to stub it out and shake out another to light it. No one says a word; they all just stare at the rack of bottles behind the bar.
The barman heaves himself off the counter he was leaning against. Sallow skin, grey hair, skinny, almost sickly looking. His shirt is dirty, not from work but from not being washed lately. He tiredly shuffles over and asks with vacant eyes what you want. “A shot and a beer”. He pours them out and sets them down. You try to slide a bill across, but it sticks to the bar. You sit here, put your Winstons and lighter on the bar and take the same pose as everyone else.
Yeah, this is the place. The smell of cheap beer and cheaper whiskey. Even the barflies and hookers don’t come here anymore. That’s when you know there is no hope at all, when the whores won’t even bother coming in. The air is smoke filled; looking into the mirror behind the rows of bottles, you can barely see the people at the tables.
You order another set up. This time you take your change and find the jukebox. You flip through the selections and finally find a few that fit your mood. You slide a few quarters in the slot and push the buttons. You walk back to your barstool and wait for the music to play.

It’s been two years since I picked up a brand new Freightliner Cascadia, which I named the Freebird III. In those two years, we have run 275,000 miles. We have toured the eastern half of the country hard, picking up and delivering freight from Maine to Florida, from the eastern seaboard to the edge of the Great Plains. With the exception of one trip to Wendover, UT and back (New Year’s 2014), one trip to Omaha, NE (summer 2014), and one trip about an hour and a half west of Minneapolis (winter 2015), this iteration of the Freebird has not been west of I-35. More’s the pity. I think she would like running out that way. She is still a good solid truck, good power, likes to play in the hills and lean into those big sweeping turns. She still loves it when I roll down the windows, turn the volume up, and slip some southern fried or some C.W. McCall into the CD player. That really makes her move.
Except for replacing a few lights, she hasn’t let me down. Through all kinds of weather, over all types of terrain, she keeps on pulling. She still keeps me warm and dry in the winter and cool in the summer. I’ve held up my end of the bargain by keeping her out of the ditches and she has kept me safe. She’s a helluva gal and I love her as much as any other friend I have.
One day, it was late spring, west of Wichita, KS on a little two lane road, we hit a bad rainstorm. Visibility was almost nothing, and the wind was hitting the left side as strong as I have ever felt. I knew that empty trailer we were pulling was dancing like a hootcie kootchie girl, but I was too scared to look in the mirrors. I finally did look once, when everything got light in the back end. I watched the left drive tire suspension settle back down. Yeah, we almost had a blow-over. But she just lowered her head, kept on pulling and straightened that silly trailer right out.
Another day, south of Wichita (maybe I need to stay away from that town), up on the Kansas Turnpike, we ran into one bad-ass thunderstorm. The lightning was constant, the rain heavy, and the hail even heavier. I geared her down and turned on the hazard lights and let her just ease her way down the road. When we finally found a safe place to park, we did – just to catch our breath before moving on. The next three hours were spent slogging through a gully washing, frog strangling rain; she never missed a beat and never put a foot wrong.
There have been other storms – the ice storm in Louisiana two winters ago, the blizzards, etc. She shrugged them off and kept on trucking like the thoroughbred filly she is. I owe my livelihood, and my life, to this old gal.
So, Happy Birthday FB III!!! I have enjoyed every mile we have run together. I appreciate everything you do. For over 700 sunrises and sunsets, we have been as one and I hope to share a thousand more with you. I love you more than a platter sized chicken fried steak. And I hope the next few years and few hundred thousand miles are as fun and safe as the last have been.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Undisclosed1 !!!!!! I hope that your day is a special one, full of fun and love. And may you be blessed with many more.
In honor of your day, and to thank you for the job you do, I have included a Paul Harvey video as a way of saying Thank You for being among the salt of the earth - a farmer.



Today is also Flag Day, here in the States. A day to celebrate the adoption of the United States flag by the Continental Congress in 1777.

Summer’s here and the time is right to be dancin’ in the streets!!!
Yes, it’ summer. Barbeques and swim parties. Camping and trips to the mountains, lakes, and beaches. Family vacations and sunburn and fire ant bites. Children home all the time, underfoot and squabbling. Baseball, hot dogs, and deep dish apple pie.
This weekend marks the unofficial beginning of summer, but before we begin these pursuits, we should take the time to reflect.
In a letter to King George III of England, Thomas Jefferson wrote that mankind is endowed with “certain unalienable rights that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Approximately 160 years later, in a radio address to the nation, President Franklin D. Roosevelt stated, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” And as we pursue our happiness this summer, and all year long, we need not fear losing our lives nor our liberties to an enemy, foreign or domestic, for the men and women of our military stand at the ready.
Since the first colonists landed on the shores of the New World, militias were organized to defend the settlements. During the American Revolution, these militia were organized into a standing army; during this period, the American Navy and Marine Corps were also formed. Since that time, our armed forces have defended this land from invasion by foreign powers. They fought brother against brother, father against son, each side convinced of their own righteousness. Our men and women in uniform have been sent overseas to defeat those who would usurp our freedoms and the freedoms of our allies and friends. Unfortunately, not all who were sent to fight were able to return to their former lives.
So this weekend is a time for us to reflect upon the freedoms we enjoy. And while doing so, we need to honor those who have fallen in defense of this country and its ideals. Whether a draftee or a volunteer, each man and woman who donned a uniform did so with the knowledge that they might not return. While most were able to come home, many did not. Their sacred remains are buried in nearly every cemetery in these United States. Tens of thousands of others are buried in cemeteries in Europe and throughout the Pacific Ocean.
Every one of those white crosses represents someone’s son or daughter, brother or sister, father or mother, husband or wife. Every one of those white crosses is a neighbor, a co-worker, a friend. Every one of those white crosses is an American who sacrificed their future so that ours may continue. Every one of those white crosses is a stone in the foundation that our country is built upon.
Then there are those who perished and do not have a white cross or marble headstone. They only marker they have is an unhealing wound in the hearts of their loved ones. There is no place to plant a flag. TAPS was never sounded over their final resting place. Their sacrifice is even greater for none but a few shall know of their passing.
So this weekend, as you enjoy your cook outs, light your fireworks, travel on your vacation, take some time to pause and reflect on how it is that you are able to travel, assemble, read, and pray with the freedom that you have. Take a moment to say Thank You to those that have served. And pause in silent respect for those who gave all.
May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord shine his face upon you and be gracious unto you. May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. Amen.

Like many others here, I Joined NN so I could gaze upon thousands of pictures of beautiful naked women. And trust me, the gazing was good. But as I participated in status, something curious happened. I found a collection of people who cared and looked out for one another – a true community of friends. I must say, their standards are not too high – they welcomed me in. Over the years, we have applauded success, held each other and cried during sad times, given each other affirmation of his or her own worth, lent a shoulder for others to lean on. I have met some wonderful people here, folks that have become my closest friends. I have met quite a few in person, some more than once. There are many more I wish to meet unfortunately there are some I may never get to see. But each and every one of you is someone I would gladly lay down my life for, if it meant you could continue living. Each of you is someone I would trust with the life of my daughter.
Among my friends, I count a certain young lady. This lass has, over the last couple of years, known immeasurable pain, both physical and emotional. And yet, she greets each day, and the people she sees, with a warm smile and hello. She is downright sexy, but more importantly, quick-witted and witty, charming and caring. She is firm but fair as a moderator, and compassionate to those less fortunate. Her name? Why, Miss Lizzie, of course.
Whoever coined the phrase “Beauty is only skin deep” obviously never met Lizzie. Her physical charms are manifest – she is beautiful and very sensual. But her beauty goes deeper than that; her beauty springs forth from within. She is tender of soul and the generosity of her heart is legendary to those that have the pleasure of knowing her. She is modest about her own greatness but stands ready to let each of us know how wonderful we are. And she is happiest when she is helping someone achieve a measure of their own happiness.
I told you all that my computer took a nosedive on a particularly rough stretch of road a couple of weeks ago. And while I decry the modern plugged in, wired up way of life, I missed my laptop. I missed my word processing capabilities (anyone who has read my last couple of blogs can see that through all the misspellings I had), my maps, my weather radars, my on line magazines. She texted me one day and asked where a package could be sent that would be easy for me to retrieve. A week later, I stopped by the office and found this – my new computer. To say I was overwhelmed would be an understatement. Tears of happiness and utter amazement of her selflessness sprang forth. My chest grew tight as my heart swelled with the joy of having received such a fine gift. And I was given another reminder of the goodness of humanity.
Once again, I am unable to say more than Thank You for yet another wonderful gift that a friend has bestowed upon me. And I wonder how it is that I have been blessed with so many wonderful friends in my life. And I am truly grateful, for this gift, but more importantly, the gift of friendship from a truly beautiful, inspiring lady.
So I sit here, typing happily away and smiling. And two thoughts spring forth:
We should all do well to emulate the example of living that Miss Lizzie presents us every day. And if more people were like the beautiful Miss Lizzie, there would be a lot less strife in the world.

Its 11 pm and I am waiting for a trailer to get loaded, so I will try this again.
I cauggt a Greyhound bus that Thursday morning, bound for Houston. I have to say, you meet some interesting folks riding a bus. But the critters around the Houston station were really interesting. The city of Houston thinks so too-they have city police officers guarding the McDonalds across the street. Anyway, I threw my bags in the back of the pick up and my wife shagged it on out of there.
She graciously allowed me to sleep in the house because I had to leave my truck in Denton; I even got to sleep in a bed. The next morning, I went to see the doctor. Wouldnt you know, my BP was almost legal. Anyway, the doctor prescribed some new meds and we talked for a bit about other things I can do to help.
I spent the weekend at the house, did a few small chores and hung out with my daughter. I spent seemingly half the weekend with a blood pressure cuff on my arm and was relieved to see that my BP was not only legal, but nearing the normal range. This in spite of the fact that my wife was saying and doing the most outrageous things, trying to piss me off. The young 'un and I scouted a couple fishing holes and made our plans.
Mondat, Tuesday, and Wednesday I hadto go back and have my pressure checked and recorded. I was happy to see that, even with white coat anxiety, my pressyre was staying down. On Wednesday, the results were raxed to my company and arrangements made for a full physical on Thursday. I passed that easily and headed to a TX DMV office to do battle with the state bureacracy. Come to find out, due to aclerical error, my license had been rescinded in February!!! But the lady behind the counter was most helpful. So lock up your wives and cattle-I am back out on the road.
In addition to the meds, I am trying to change the way I eat. I have cut down my consumption of chicken fried steak to seven times a week-I really dont need it for breakfast. And I have found that Country Pride restaurants make a areally nice grilled fish and shrimp platter with stir fry vegetables (OMG, did I actually say that out loud???)
Shortly after getting back on the road, my laptop did a 1\2 gainer off the mattress. Due to all the noise if the beatibg I was takibg crossing Illinois and Indiana, I never noticed. Needless to say, my computer is busted. So now Iam stuck using my phone. In addition to trying to use the weather and map apps on here, trying to navigate NN is a challenge;even more challenging is trying to perv. One day, I saw a pretty sexy ass while going through the thumbnails. I got my magnifying glass to take a closer look a saw a little more than I bargained for. Hey, sexy is sexy. Pony, that is one fine ass you have.
I missed the storms that battered the DFW area a week ago, but I did see the lightning sparking just over the horizon. Our house got hit pretty hard too, with high winds and hail. Luckily, the only damage was the swimming pool getting overturned. And one dog that hyperventilated out of fear.
Over the weekend, I stopped in the Columbus, Ohio area for a couple hours and visited with Celtic One and JD. She has had a pretty rough start to the year, but is bouncing back. They both said to tell everyone "Howdy!!!".
I want to thank everyone who gave me support via status comments and PM's a couple of weeks ago. There were so maby encouraging words, helpful suggestions, and sage advice.

I just typed a whole blog updating everyone what was going on the last couple of weeks. Im on my phone, thought I hit the EDIT button and trashed a 37 paragraph blog. GRRRRR!!!
Short version-with new meds, my BP is legal and just shy of normal. Many thanks to everyone who sent their support, suggestions, and advice, both on status and through PM's. You cannot imagine how much it all means. Special thanks to Lovitt for sharing his experiences and advice with me. You folks on NN are the greatest!!!
I'll try to rewrite the lost blog when I have a real keyboard.
Back on the road, blowing smoke and grinding gears.

Well, to sort of explain my brief bit of vulgarity in status this afternoon and to keep you all apprised about what is going on.
The USDOT has mandated that anyone operating a commercial motor vehicle must undergo periodic medical testing by a USDOT certified doctor. There are certain criteria that must be met in many categories. One of these categories is blood pressure. The standard that has to be maintained is 140/90 or less. Anything higher than that is a disqualifying symptom.
For years, I received annual physicals from the company I worked for before becoming a driver. Those criteria were vastly different - as I worked for a hazardous waste disposal company, the medicos were mainly checking to see if any organic or metallic elements were accumulating in my blood or urine, which would indicate accumulation in various organs. They were also concerned with lung capacity which was important when using various breathing apparati. If my blood pressure at that time was elevated, it was never noticed by me; I was watching the contaminant numbers.
In February 2008, I had my first DOT physical and exceeded the threshold for blood pressure. I quickly got a prescription and after three days of testing, was then qualified, medically, to drive a truck.
Since that time, I have fought with my BP ever since. I have had my meds adjusted to stronger dosages over the years and they would always do the trick. This year, I had my first physical in January. I busted the blood pressure at that time, but only by a few points. I went to my physician on my next break and, instead of asking for an increase, received the same meds that I had been taking for two years. I had three months to bring my BP under control and that day was today.
I am always nervous going to the doctor because I know that he/she holds my livelihood in his/her hands. I had been taking my medications like I was supposed to, I had changed my coffee habits - I was mixing my coffee as 50% regular/50% decaf. Now, granted, I had started my log book at midnight, driven five hours to get unloaded, picked up another load off a drop yard and driven 45 miles north to deliver that - through Dallas morning rush hour. When I got to the delivery, the load was refused as not scheduled and the account manager for this customer seemed in no hurry to rectify the situation. This put my next load in jeopardy, which was going to be a mileage load going to Indiana.
When I got to the doctor's office, everything went fine, at first. I passed the vision, the hearing, the urine test for diabetes, everything. But as soon as the cuff went on my arm, it all went to hell. The initial reading was 164/115. Two subsequent readings never went below 155/110. I was refused a medical clearance and therefore am unable to drive.
So, what do I do? My manager put me in for a week's vacation, so I don't lose much pay. I am hopping on a Greyhound bus in the morning to take me down to Houston where my wife will pick me up. She has graciously allowed me back in the house for the duration and is setting up doctors appointments for me for Friday. After a weekend of my new meds, I will probably go back for a check-up. Then I have to arrange for another physical which I should pass. I hope. Then I have to make arrangements with the state of Texas to see what needs to be done to regain my license. I will probably have to take a written test to obtain a permit, then be bussed back to Denton, TX to get back in my truck and take the driving portion of my test.
I am not sure how long this will take. I do know that I will be out of touch with everyone, starting tomorrow morning, at least through the end of next week. (Although she is letting me back in the house, I really don't see her letting me get on NN while I am there).
The only thing I love more than this job is my daughter. To continue as a road warrior, I am going to have to make some lifestyle changes and changes to the way I eat. I already have received some great ideas about dietary supplements that might help. I'm not really qualified to do much else and besides, can you see this old grouch working as a door greeter at Wally World? LOL. Anyway, I want to thank everyone for their concern and well wishes. They mean so much, you cannot begin to imagine.
So, after tonight, I will be unplugged for a while. I will continue to think about each of you, wonder how you are doing, and will carry you with me wherever the winds of fortune take me.
My love to one and all.
Bill