Fuel for Thought
Delivery Dilemma
Does anyone else find it ironic (and honestly a little sad) that truck drivers, the very people who deliver the products, have resorted to now having to pay for delivery just to get supplies to their own truck? I can take my rig right to a store’s dock to bring them the freight they sell, but that same truck is somehow unwelcome if I try to walk in the front door as a paying customer at many locations.
Think about that for a second: the store will literally pay me to haul their products in, but won’t let me return and park long enough to buy those same products. Make it make sense.
I understand the rules. I understand the ordinances. I even understand the liability fears, but at some point, a little uncommon sense would go a long way. Let the people who deliver the goods actually buy some of those goods without needing DoorDash to meet them at the truck stop (where we also pay to park). We’re not asking for VIP treatment. We’re asking for the ability to walk inside, grab a few things, pay and leave, just like any other customer with money in their pocket. Instead, we’re treated like a rolling hazard the moment we’re off the dock. We’re a delivery service, yet we can’t even go to certain places to get our own supplies without worrying about being towed, booted, fined, or lectured by someone who thinks “No Trucks” is a moral stance. And now, if we have to pay to park and pay to have basic supplies delivered to the truck that delivers everything else… what’s next?
A fee just to enter the parking lot.
A subscription service for the privilege of not being booted.
It sounds ridiculous, but so did paying for delivery to a delivery vehicle, until that became normal. And let’s be honest: this didn’t happen overnight. It’s been creeping in for years. Every time a driver leaves trash behind, blocks a fire lane, drives over the curb, flattens the shrubbery or decides a parking lot is their personal campground, it gives property managers one more reason to slap up another “No Trucks” sign. The bad apples always ruin it for the rest of us, but the solution shouldn’t be banning every driver from every store like we’re all the same problem.
Most of us just want to run our route, grab a few supplies, and get back on the road. We’re not trying to turn the Walmart parking lot into a tailgate party. We’re trying to buy water, groceries, oil, DEF, wiper blades or whatever else keeps us rolling. Yet each year, the list of places that still welcome drivers gets shorter. The shop‑n‑go spots, the ones that used to understand the value of a driver’s business, are becoming rare little islands in a sea of “No Truck Parking” signs.
And here’s the real kicker: the entire supply chain depends on us. Every store, every restaurant, every warehouse, every business, none of them function without trucks, but the people who keep the shelves stocked are treated like they’re one wrong turn away from destroying civilization. It’s a strange kind of disrespect that only trucking seems to get. You can deliver the freight, but you can’t be seen buying the freight.
Meanwhile, the expectations placed on drivers keep growing. We’re supposed to be safe, efficient, compliant, courteous, patient, and invisible. Deliver the load, disappear, and don’t you dare try to shop like a normal human being. It’s almost comical how disconnected the rules are from the reality of the job.
So drivers adapt. We always do. We pay for parking. We pay for delivery. We pay for convenience fees, access fees, and whatever new fee someone dreams up next, but at some point, you have to stop and ask: how much more are drivers expected to absorb just to do their jobs and take care of themselves on the road?
That’s the delivery dilemma.
We deliver everything America needs, yet America makes it harder every year for drivers to get what we need.
Common sense is genius dressed in its working clothes.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
See you down the road,
Greg