Near Panic

 

I don't care what city it is, New York or Indianapolis, it's stressful to drive a big truck in them. The streets are narrow and haphazard, not designed with the massive vehicles of today in mind at all. Even if you do know the area and what to expect ahead the traffic is usually thick, coming at one from all sides. Not having been there before turns the stress level way up. Hell, it's stressful going to a 21st century industrial park if you've never been there before. Oh wait, driving itself is stressful.

I was in inner-city Louisville today. It was alright at first, even after the buildings closed in around me. I was following a KY state highway and still had two lanes since the road was one way there. But then I suddenly noticed that the highway turned just ahead. The street narrowed even further into what looked to be a working class residential area, or worse, with two way traffic. It's amazing the flurry of mental calculations that can go on in a moment of near panic, even while checking the mirrors to see if I could change lanes easily to turn. No, the directions didn't say follow the highway; yes, the address of the place is on Shelby St; no, there is no sign that says NO TRUCKS, a weight limit or low clearance ahead. I was wishing that I'd made the phone call and not just relied on company directions and Google Maps though.

The only option was to plunge ahead. I wanted to ask someone but I don't have a CB in the truck and might not have gotten an answer anyway. I have stopped in the middle of traffic before to ask, when I was totally lost, but I still had a road ahead to try. If I ran into trouble I could just say, "Hey, I was following the directions I was given." I mean, this was easy compared to some of the predicaments I've been in, I just didn't want to find myself in another. I tried to remind myself that to date I've gotten out of every scrape unscathed, but that was no comfort since one day I might not.

Wanting to stop and ask reminded me of the time a Roadway driver ahead of me stopped in the middle of a straight section of Victor Pike, here at home one day. I knew what he wanted so I pulled alongside him and hit the switch to roll down the passenger window. "Nice day for a drive through the woods, isn't it?" I said. Sure enough he was worried he was lost, but he wasn't, the mill was just ahead. "Follow me." I've always said you really don't want to get lost in the inner city, or the mountains with a big truck. I should know, I've been lost in both.

Anyway, it all worked out. I silently made my apologies to the folks behind me but I wasn't going to let anyone add pressure; the steam was coming out my ears already. I found the place and got loaded. It turned out to be all of one palette. Then I had to get turned around in their yard which, like most inner city facilities was tight. But then I'm not a rookie anymore and that was easy. I'm just babbling.

So the whole point was, is, to write something. It was that near panic moment that I found interesting: performing the mechanics of driving, preparing to make a move in traffic and all the short while running through a cascade of mental calculations. If I'd opted for what seemed the safer route, following the highway, my task would have become all the harder, and just because it's a state route doesn't guarantee a truck driver anything.