I was down in Amish country the other day. As I approached an intersection two vehicles crossed in front of me, going opposite directions. One was a horse and buggy, the other a little smart car. “How cool,” I thought, “the past meets the future.”
About a year ago I told you about a road trip that my girlfriend and I took to Connecticut, to visit friends for thanksgiving; an over the road trip, in the big truck. Well, we did it again this year. The load that got us out there delivered Tuesday morning in Brooklyn, NY. I've told you before about what a nightmare driving a big rig in NY can be but this trip was supposed to be different. I was delivering limestone treads to a masonry supply store, a business, not a job site, and we had directions in the system, we'd been there before. Looking at the map it looked easy: turn along the shoreline just off the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, follow around the water for a little then turn inland; boom, we're there.
The reality wasn't quite so simple, as you've probably guessed. Cate had the direction all written out, ready to guide me, but the first turn we were supposed to make over the bridge had a sign that read,
WTF, these were the directions that my company had given us; a trucking company. They'd said we'd been there before. Had the previous drivers not alerted dispatch that the directions were wrong, or did dispatch just drop that particular ball?
Actually it was doubly my fault. My first mistake was in trusting the directions in the system, always a big no, no. I should have called the customer like I usually do. My second mistake was not noticing on the map that the road we were to turn onto was a parkway. Duh, trucks use expressways, only passenger cars can use parkways. I guess I just wanted to believe it would be easy, and I was so looking forward to that drive along the shoreline.
Not to fear though, I had my GPS turned on with the coordinates of our destination entered. It was a truck route database and I had noticed that it wasn't asking us to turn where our directions had said to. So from there on we would simply follow technology. Cate chucked the paper she was holding and sat back to enjoy the ride.
We were being told where to go but New York is never easy for a truck. At one point I had to go up onto the sidewalk to make a turn, but that's not unusual. Determined not to fail once again in my diligence I double parked on a four lane street to look at the map. I'm so glad that I did because Gipus (GPS) left out a turn entirely. It was a soft right but with an elevated railway before us we couldn't go straight and there were several other options. Gipus let us down again when she told us to turn left to our destination, but we'd been following the elevated railway and there was a solid medium to the left. I had to go down a few blocks and do a U turn under the tracks, but we made it to where we were supposed to be.
Fortunately we were on another four lane road (divided by the railway) so I double parked again with my flashers on and went to see how we were going to unload. There was a fenced yard with equipment and materials that looked promising, but it was locked up and I couldn't find a soul about. I went back to the truck and called the company. I told them I was there with a delivery. The guy on the other end of the line wanted to know where I was. I gave him the address.
”Ah, that's our old location, we haven't been there in a year and a half.”
”Oh, OK, can you please tell me how to get from here to where you are now, in a big truck?”
Silence; a hem and a haw.
”OK, just give me the address and I'll put it in my GPS.” Done, and we were off again.
We retraced our steps at first, then headed into unknown territory. I'm not sure what happened. We were looking for 56th street and were only at 2nd but suddenly Gipus sang the little tune that means we're at the turn, as we were going through the intersection. Then she sang her “uh oh” tune and started thinking about a new route. That happened over and over again as she kept wanting me to turn down streets I couldn't possibly fit down, despite the fact that she was supposedly operating off of a truck friendly data base. At one point she started asking us to make left turns instead of right, which was easier, but then we came to another impossible right at a T and I had to turn left. The way ahead looked doubtful and I was afraid we were going to get into something we'd have to back out of, (can you imagine that?) but it lead to another four lane road and I double parked again to check the map.
Hallelujah, we were close! There was just one more right hand turn and then it was a left onto 56th street and our destination. I negotiated the right OK but then there was a hold up. They were doing construction just before our intersection. I could make the turn, I knew, but the traffic flagger didn't want me to. I'm pointing to the left and he's shaking his head. I lower my window and roll forward to talk to him.
He say's “Go around the block.”
I say, “I've been going around the fucking block all day,” and make the turn, causing him to have to step back out of the way of my slow tracking trailer wheels. I don't remember using the “f” word but Cate assures me that I did. It was a tight squeeze, what with the stupid dump truck parked right there, but I made it and then we were there, our destination, Sandman Building Materials.
We'd arrived, but there was nowhere for us to be. It was a narrow one way street. I wasn't just double parked, I was blocking the entire roadway. There was a worker stacking bags of material on a pallet so I rolled down my window and shouted, “Hey Mister Sandman!” There was no response so I got out of the truck and spoke to him again, then clapped my hands loudly. I get that he probably didn't speak English, but this guy was willfully ignoring me, or maybe he was sleepwalking(?). I gave up on him and started toward the office. A guy on a forklift zipped out of an alleyway, lifted a finger as if to say, “Uno momente,” then barked orders in Spanish. A couple of vehicles were moved, opening up a space for me along the curb.
They started unloading me quickly, with two forklifts, before I was finished unstrapping. I was apprehensive again because this was supposed to be a COD and it was already too late to say “You can't have the product until I have the check.” My fears proved unfounded though as the proprietor had the check all ready. Only when I called in to see what dispatch had planned for us they asked about the check. They asked if it was a certified or cashier's check. “No, it's just a plain old company check.” Dispatch wanted me to go back in and haggle with the people over the kind of check they gave me. I refused. I just don't think that's my place. I was willing to wait there as the afternoon lengthened if they wanted, but I sure wasn't going to go twisting any arms.
Fortunately they let it slide. The afternoon was getting on and even though we'd strategically gotten an early start we found ourselves on the Cross Bronx Expressway at 5 PM, then we ran into the same traffic that we did last year at the Connecticut line. We ultimately weren't able to make it all the way to Tom and Sue's that night but found a spot in a truck stop. That is to say I struggled into a spot that all the other drivers on the CB radio looking for parking places had avoided. Then, to top it off we locked ourselves out of the truck. It's not like I was tired and forgetful or anything, right? Fortunately a very nice hoodlum working in the truck stop jimmied the lock for us, then told us where we could find a bar to have dinner and a few beers in.
I love it when a plan works out!
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