City Turkey

 

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.”

 

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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,

 

LOW CLEARANCE PASSENGER CARS ONLY.

 

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!

 

Prodigal Return

 

November woods

      Summer's secrets revealed

 

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I've set a new record for silence. Lamely I said, “But I've nothing to share.”

“You've got a lot to share,” she said, then ticked off a list of things. “Brooklyn, Thanksgiving, the accident, our trip to Italy.”

She's right, of course. I have no reason not to have written in all this time. I've plenty that I could say. I've even been thinking of telling you about the new interstate 69 extension from Evansville to Indianapolis, but have never gotten a handle on just how to start. That's a big subject. Perhaps, if I should continue to write now that I've started, I'll get to that. It's important. It has altered the tenor of my nightmare, some for the better, some for the worse.

But what inspired me to write today has nothing to do with the long list of possible subjects that Cate enumerated. It harkens all the way back to my first trip to Europe, about two years ago. But let me start at the beginning:

Last winter was exceptionally mild. The forecasts for this winter have been all over the place, from another mild season to a brutal one. Our autumn has been mild, for sure, but given recent events I'd lay odds the later prognostication is more likely; “brutal.” It's not yet officially winter and already we've had freezing rain, snow and bitter cold temperatures. Our high today was only 18°.

I've been wearing long underwear, but for today's cold temperatures I dug out my good hiking base layer. It reminded me of where I got it and how lucky I can be.

I was with my daughter touring Wales in a rental car. We'd started out that morning from her home in Leeds, visited two castles and then got to our bed and breakfast as the light was failing. Our plan for the following morning was to take a hike in Snowdonia National Park, a route chosen for it's “many spectacular views of Mt. Snowdon.” True to it's name Snowdonia was covered in snow.

I was apprehensive because I'd left my long johns in Leeds. We were ditching the car outside of London, staying there a few nights, then taking the Eurostar to Paris for four nights, so I was living out of a day pack and had sought to lighten my load. I knew I'd be alright, it's not like we were heading into the back country, but also knew I'd be more comfortable with a thermal under layer. I was resolved to buy one if we saw a department store, which we hadn't in all of Wales, and didn't expect to find one in the quaint little town we were in then. Besides which, in the UK everything closes up at night, unlike here in the States, so even if there had been one...

So what are the odds? Walking into town to find a pub, under the streetlamps, we came across a mountain outfitter's not only open, but with a store wide sale happening. I got an awesome base layer and though I spent more than I would for your run of the mill thermals the sale practically negated the difference between the dollar and the pound. And they are unquestionably better than your run of the mill thermals.

I think I worked up a sweat on the hike. Unfortunately the world was enveloped in fog that morning and we couldn't even see Mt. Snowdon, but still had a great time. I think you can see why digging them out from the bottom drawer this morning brought a smile to my face, why I wanted to share.

 

It occurs to me now that I might have already told you this story. I'm not going to go back and look, nor am I going to worry about it. Why waste all this writing when it's so hard for me to get to doing it anymore? In the past when I've had a long hiatus I've always come back saying, “I'm going to do it, I'm going to write regularly,” then never do. So today there are no promises, only possibilities.