Hi everybody!
- Thread starter cottontail
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Thank you moot, for giving me the opportunity to clarify. I was a teamster shortly before Hoffa disappeared in 1975. I worked in an office at a Montgomery Ward RDC, and because I was considered warehouse staff, I was required to join the Teamsters. I know that Hoffa stepped down in 1971 but he remained a teamster icon for several years after his disappearance. Even today he is considered the last official Teamsters "Don". Yes, there were a lot of shady dealings that went on back then but one thing can't be denied, he kept truckers together. Drivers were a tight knit group under his watch. It seems like after he disappeared for some reason there was a shift in the way truckers were accepted and received by the public at large.
I remember riding along with my father when I was a child. We would stop at different diners along the way, and it seemed like everyone was so friendly back then. Like everyone had been friends for years, swapping stories, telling jokes, showing photographs, or quick to lend a hand It seemed like the cream arose so quickly to the top back then. Sometimes I would ride along with my uncle and it was the same experience. It was that communal bonding, that fellowship that inspired me to become a truck driver, albeit, much to my father's dismay. In the late seventies truckers were beginning to take on a darker image even though the majority of drivers did their best to keep a bright light on the industry. No longer was the lone trucker considered a "Knight of the Highway". By the time I started driving the end of an era was beginning to close.
My father tried to warn me, but I was such an optimist that I believed that it could all turn around, that it would all turn around. You can imagine my dismay during the 1980's when just about any rodeo clown who could drive an 18 wheeler in a straight line could get their class "A" license and careen down the Interstate commanding 40 tons of freight and steel with total disregard for neither life nor limb. It's no wonder the feds stepped in and tightened the noose by introducing the "CDL".
Okay so now we all got our CDL's and the "cowboy" drivers, who held several licenses from different states because they were reckless about their driving record, were supposedly either corralled or completely disenfranchised about the "profession" that they soon gave up on it. Now there was a driver shortage and it wasn't long before another industry scourge popped its ugly head up from behind the guardrail. Yes, you guessed it. The "driving school". Oh, they were around before this, but you know what they say, "Those who can't do it, teach it",
and it wasn't long before there was a driving school at every vacant truck terminal in every major city in America. At one point there were three of them right down the road from where I lived.
At any rate, I was still an optimist at this point and I bought my first truck. I did great as an owner-operator. by the end of my first full year of operation I divided my income and mileage and I was amazed to find out that I was making $1.48 per odometer mile. At a time when 98 cents per household mile was considered good money by most owners. I was really raking in the dough. My problems began when I started thinking. I figured I could put a second driver in another truck, give him 32 cents a mile, I'll keep 10 cents and the rest I can use for business expenses.
Sounded good. Looked good on paper. “Let's put it into practice”, or so I thought. Believing that most drivers loved trucking as much as I did, I hired the first driver on the spot who had a CDL. Looking back on it I can’t believe I was so naive. The first month or so I was under the firm belief that I had actually hired a super trucker. After thirty days I bumped him up to 34 cents per mile (J. B. Hunt at the time was paying 36 cents) with the promise of another raise by the end of his first year. We were making money hand over fist. Just like Steamboat Willy we were whistling all the way to the bank. However, it wasn’t long before the boat began taking on water. First a slow leak, such as excuses about leaving his medication (he had high blood pressure) at home. He had to take his wife to the doctor. Then there was the car trouble, the funeral, the wrong medication, the sick relative, the lost wallet, then to top it all off his wife had become gravely ill and he had to be by her bedside to comfort and nurture her.
Finally I had enough, The truck would sit for days at a time and I was beginning to bleed money. I told him either come to work or I could arrange it for him to stay home permanently. That seemed to motivate him back into super trucker mode for a short while.
Until he had his first breakdown. It was the starter. Hey, it happens. Starters go bad. Let’s get him up and running so he can make some money to pay all those bills he accumulated while he was off work. He left the shop the next day and before he could make his delivery the rear drive shaft broke loose tearing every break line within reach in two. Also, three out of four airbags were gone. After the tow, parts and labor I was reeling from over $800.00 for the bill. I swear this was the beginning of my hot flashes. Anyway I managed to recover enough to get him on his way and under another load as quick as a wink, only to have the water pump break. The next load the alternator and finally before all was said and done, the clutch. Out of the ninety nine days that Ken drove for me, he only worked forty six. I don’t remember exactly how many miles he drove but I remember it was less than 21,000 if I’m not mistaken.
This was the summer of ‘95. The dawn of the computer age. I knew absolutely nothing about computers at this time, but I did own one, only because my son wanted one for school (another story for another time). I was, albeit, learning from my son how the contraption worked. And I was even starting to keep track of the trucks on a spread sheet. I remember looking at the numbers and gasping for air. I was using on truck to pay for the other and there was no income what so ever. I had to fire Ken. It was the most heart wrenching experience of my life.
Enter Jim. A fast talking super smooth gearbox with all the right things to say at the proper time. I had an uneasy feeling about him but I was becoming desperate. I had spent the last four days screening drivers and time was getting away from me. I really needed to get those wheels rolling. It seems that all the big companies had the best drivers and I was stuck with the bottom of the barrel. Jim had the least amount of points on his license and all the best excuses, so I went with him.
Again, a super trucker for the first six weeks then a slow gradual unwinding began to take place. Missing time and constant tardiness began to permeate his attitude. Then there was the pallet of bricks incident in PA., where he got lost by taking a short cut, came upon a low bridge and ended up backing into somebody’s freshly paved driveway pivoting the trailer tandems on the homeowner’s new asphalt, and knocking over a pallet of bricks in the process, onto the man’s brand new car. The only way I knew this happened was by getting a phone call from the PA State Police. Hit and run.
Okay, it happens, a series of unfortunate events. Chalk it all up to Lemony Snickets and keep those wheels rolling.
When Jim came home at the end of the week I confronted him about the accident and he assured me that he didn’t know that he had hit the bricks and that they were already leaning over when he first saw them. I told him that if he had any kind of accident, I wanted to hear it from him first and not from a State Trooper from any state in the Union.
He assured me it wouldn’t happen again and even offered to help pay for some of the damages. I gave him his check, and told him not to worry about it. He thanked me, assured me it wouldn’t happen again, and told me he would see me bright and early Monday morning. As I watched him drive off I swear the telephone rang, and it was the Washington, Pennsylvania Police wanting to know if I had a truck in the area that morning. It seems that while making a right turn Jim had knocked over a municipal lamp post onto a parked car.
I went inside, called his house, and told the girl on the other end who I was and I wanted him to call me immediately when he got home. The next day he called and denied the whole thing. I went down and looked at the trailer and there was freshly scraped paint all along the right side rail where you would expect a lamp post impact to be. I fired Jim over the phone and told him I would mail him his check. It came back as undeliverable about a week later.
Out of the nine drivers I had less than half appreciated their job and lived for the experience. My best driver, Brian, went on to become an owner-operator and actually thanked me for giving him the opportunity to work so he could save the money up for his own truck. Tears still well up in my eyes when I think about it. Finally in 2001 I couldn’t hold on any longer. I dissolved the company Babysitting grown men was wearisome. Besides, by now I was starting to acquire some easy money through real estate and property management. The real estate market was just gushing money and there was plenty for everybody. I got lucky and fell in with some great people who helped me get started and for the next seven years I made more with my management company than I ever did with my trucks and the best thing was there was barely any overhead.
After the crash, I managed to scrape by for a while until I moved to Florida where the winters aren’t so rough on my aging frame. Eventually I broke down and got my CDL again and drove for a large corporate conglomerate, but that didn’t last long after they threw me under the bus a couple times. Eventually I ended up with a great company that had me home every weekend and I was earning a decent salary until I tore my rotator cuff and for now, I’m on temporary disability.
There you have it. My transportation industry history in a nutshell. Through it all I have watched the inexorable demoralization of my beloved industry as time progressed, and as I look down the road to the future it looks critically bleak from here. it’s the most horrible feeling imaginable to watch something you‘ve loved for so long die a slow lingering death. I keep hoping it will get better but it’s only a fantasy. They are just fond memories for me now, and soon the entire industry will be a fond memory for us all. With the advancements going on in technology today, my own grand children will see the day when they order their brand new refrigerator and it’s emailed to them, then transferred to a thumb drive and printed out on their 3-D printer.
Now, is there anything else anyone would like to know about me?
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Don't worry Ragman, I still love ya,
Thank you RoadTime I could have gotten it off sooner but I got tripped up defending myself from the wolves...lol.
By the way..... Welcome to EO......
Just one word of advice........ watch how ya phrase things....
By the way..... Welcome to EO......
Just one word of advice........ watch how ya phrase things....
Thank you hon! Phrasing is all the fun I got left at this point. In this industry, as time goes by, it takes longer and longer for the cream to rise to the top. At my age, I don't have time to waste, so sometimes I have to whip things up to make it rise faster. You are definitely at the top.
FDLOL !!!!!!
Oh come on, now youre just trying to hurt my feelings. Just because you have a bigger dick than me doesn't mean you have to emasculate me like that.
Just because you have a bigger dick than me doesn't mean you have to emasculate me like that.
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Oh come on, now youre just trying to hurt my feelings. Just because you have a bigger dick than me doesn't mean you have to emasculate me like that.
Cream rises, slag sinks.
Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thereby confirming my pervious statements, I rest my case.
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Now I believe in time travel...haven't heard a lot of that stuff brought up since I was in diapers
