10-4 Magazine December 2022

The Veteran’s View: By Dennis Mitchell Can you believe it, December and the Holiday Season is here again. I’m not sure I have paid off all the credit cards from last year. Guess it doesn’t matter, that’s why I keep working around the clock. The things we drivers do to make a living should be against the law, and in some cases, it is. It’s also not very conducive for a long life. If it weren’t for pushing the limits of human endurance and stretching my physical capacity, I would have plenty of time to do all those family things my loved one’s desire. But no, I’m a long-haul owner operator, and most of my life is absorbed with chasing freight and/or repairing equipment. I’m sure all of you have heard the story by Charles Dickens about his famous character, Ebenezer Scrooge, who is visited three times in his dream by a ghost who tries to convince him if he changes his ways and gives up his never-ending chase for money, he will not only become happier, but the people around him would, as well. That story played out at the turn of the 19th century in England. Much like today, everyone was pinching pennies when they could. This year’s story is more of a trucker’s tale, and it starts out like this... I’ve been a driver since back in the 1970s, what some folks call the good old days. When I started, I was barely 20 years old, and back then I had more responsibilities than common sense. This made for a rocky start, with close calls and near misses being a regular occurrence. Somehow, I survived to live and drive another day. Through the years I have pushed the limits and went further than was expected by anyone, sometimes to the point of being careless, fearless to a fault, and then expecting others to live up to my high standards. Not long ago I loaded a haul from Minnesota to Indiana with a tight time schedule. I’m always looking to get an extra load in and put more pennies in the bank. I arrived at the shipper on time and was promptly issued a door to load. They took their time loading all those Christmas goodies, and even though I had an appointment, they managed to use up six or seven hours before I was finished and had my bills in hand. The last thing the shipping clerk said was, “Don’t be late. This load has to be in the store before the 24th with no excuses!” Wow, I can do that, then pick up a short run before I head home for the holidays. That will surprise the family, since I’ve missed so many other special days. Off I go like a rocket, daydreaming about Christmas Day, at my own kitchen table, with loved ones all around. I roll down the interstate for a couple hours and watch the sun set in my mirrors. I decide to stop for coffee and a sweet roll to go. After paying the bill, I check my watch and calculate my ETA to Indiana. On my way back to the truck, an older driver stopped me to ask the time – said his pocket watch had stopped and he needed to check in with his boss. As we spoke, he acted like he knew me, and even made mention of times past when he saw me do things I didn’t think anyone knew about. At first, I dismissed it as a confused old man, thinking maybe I just look like someone he knows. We talked a few minutes more and finally I stopped him and asked, “Who are you and how do you know me?” He said, “I’m an old friend who has run many miles with you.” This took me back a step or two since I have never run team with anyone other than my father-in-law “The Wagon Master” way back when I first started driving. I asked if he had a name or handle I might recognize? With a warm and gentle smile, he responded, “You can call me Old Timer. I work with Father Time, don’t you recognize me?” Now I’m the one who is confused. Many of my friends call me Father Time and, to the new drivers, I’m the old timer. Once again, I check my watch and notice I’m running late, but to humor the old guy I ask him, “If we ran together, tell me a story no one else would know.” With a twinkle in his eyes, he says... “Remember the year the Detroit Tigers made the playoffs, and you followed all their games? That was the year you were running hams from Thornapple Valley in Detroit to Marricie Meats in New Jersey. You were making two rounds a week, and most weekends you slipped in a Syracuse turn and back for cash.” “As I remember, we were running across Pennsylvania, listening to the game late in the evening and you were struggling to stay awake, so you rolled the window down and turned the radio up. I think it was station WJR.” I stood silent and stunned as he recounted the events, right down to me falling asleep at the wheel and then drifting off the road. 56 10-4 Magazine / December 2022 MY GUARDIAN ANGEL