From CHS to UND to GMC

"It is pleasing to be pointed at with the finger and to have it said, 'There goes the man.'" Persius: Satires
Before I got into my father's trucking business, all I knew about his business was that he was in the trucking business. I mean, I was in high school and had other stuff on my burners. What chance did my old man's business have of entering my mind when I was a five foot seven inch Ernie DeGregorio, leading the Tri Valley League (basketball) in scoring my senior year, and thinking about nothing more than how many females being the leading scorer could get me? True stories: when our team walked into the girl's locker room of a rival school, where visiting teams changed, on the chalkboard was an ego boosting, "Let's go, Gary," written, I later found out, by a girl from that school that I occasionally dated. And after another away game in which I scored forty points, another girl I occasionally dated met me at the team bus and gave me a huge congratulatory kiss in front of our coach who, thirty-six years later, still reminds me of the incident. Who wanted to think about tire pressure and oil change intervals when you were a major sports celebrity on the TVL high school circut?
THAT WAS WHEN I WAS TRULY COOL. BUT...
...everything changed the first week at the University of Notre Dame when I crossed paths with Mike McCoy, six foot six inch, three hundred pound All American defensive tackle for the Fighting Irish. It was the first of many epiphanies during my pedestrian four-year stay at ND. As we approached each other I couldn't take my eyes off him. Hell, it was Mike McCoy! Hadn't I seen him on television two years earlier in the memorable ten-ten tie against Michigan State. When he was in next to me I said hi to him, just like students used to say hi to me at CHS. Mike nodded his head and smiled at me, just like I used to respond to each student--smiling because I did not know that student's name, but knowing that that student damn sure knew mine. It was at that moment, immediately after we passed each other, I realized I WAS NO LONGER A CELEBRITY. The TVL was just another league among the thousands of leagues across this country. And I was just another five foot seven inch high scorer among the thousands of high scorers in the thousands of leagues across this country. At Notre Dame every student was an all star in high school. Every student had been a celebrity, if not athletically, then scholastically...and then there were the Mike McCoys.
AND THEN I FELL IN LOVE WITH A HOMETOWN GIRL.
AND GRADUATED...WITHOUT A JOB.
AND MY FATHER SAID TO ME, "WHY DON'T YOU WORK FOR ME UNTIL YOU FIND SOMETHING BETTER?"
FROM CELEBRITY TO MEDIOCRITY.
FROM CHS TO UND TO GMC.

Two Points Of Light

"Owner-operators are back and they're better than ever. Too bad there aren't more of them." Fleet Owner, August 2003, pg. 23.

"A mile is a mile is a mile." Me.

Wednesday morning, Sept. 8, 2004: My first ten calls, staccato-like...bam, bam, bam, bam...were from produce shippers and brokers looking for trucks--each shipper giving me a little jab, as if it is my fault there aren't any trucks around........

Mike: "I need two. One for Baltimore/Philly and one for Brooklyn. What have you got?"
Me: "I'll see what I can do, Mike," knowing I couldn't do much.
Bam.

Chuck: "How about an Atlanta?" spoken as if I should have one in my back pocket. "And don't go hauling apples with my trucks!"
Me: "Apples haven't started yet, Chuck." I lied. Mike is an apple guy.
Chuck: "We going to be all right this winter? I'm going to need some trucks?"
Me: "Yeah, we'll be fine." I am hoping.
Bam.

Walt: "Charlotte and Jacksonville. Two trucks. Today is it. If they don't go out today, then forget it. They won't want shit from me."
Bam!

Tom: "I need everything you can give me and one more!"
Bam!

Tim: "I'm looking for a Philly/Jersey split today. They want it in Philly by 8 tonight because it was supposed to have been there yesterday."
Me: "I'll see what I can do, but I know I can't get one in there that early."
Tim: "See what you can do, but don't let the truck go if you get one."
Bam!

Rob: "Hey, Gary. This is Rob. I'm looking for a truck out of Elba for Baltimore."
Me: "What's the rate?"
Rob: "I want to pay nine hundred, but if I have to go a grand I'll do it...And the unloading is fifty. I'll pay that too. Figure ten fifty to you."
Bam!

Dave: "Got a load of bin pumpkins for the Bronx. Can you help me out?"
Me: "No."
Bam!

Chuck (again): "How about a Boston?" spoken as if I should have one in my back pocket.
Me: "That's a tough one." And not just because I'm a Yankees fan. It's a hard area to backhaul from.
Chuck: "Where are all the trucks?"
BAM!

Steve: "You got that truck in Elba for me?"
Me: "He's still unloading. He's got stops and it's slow going today." I lied. I switched the truck to a better load from a faster paying customer.
Steve: "Is he going to make it?"
Me: "I hope so."
Steve: "I need those red onions."
ME: "I'll check on him."
Steve: "Man, this is getting too tough for me. Where are all these trucks?"
Me: "Steve, right now there is a convergence of seasons. Greens are ending. Cukes, squash, and peppers have another month. And apples, potatoes, and onions are just starting. It's the same deal every year. Seasons are overlapping. There's a lot of produce to move right now in upstate New York. And the owner-operators are going after the big-money loads--the summer stuff that pays two-three hundred more than what you're selling."
BAM!

Another Tom: "I'm still looking for yesterday's Philly. Any prospects?"
ME: "No."
BAM!

No trucks. No prospects. Nothing. Nada. Which bring me to my first Point Of Light. ALL OF THE ABOVE HAVE HELPED DRIVE THE OWNER-OPERATOR AND SMALL FLEET OWNER OUT OF BUSINESS! (There are obviously other reasons, but they are food for another blog.) Farmers (I haul produce, so I am limiting this blog to what I know.), shippers, produce brokers, market vendors, and chains--you have done it to us. NOW YOU MUST PAY! (Pun unintentional. I'm not that smart.) Ever since the deregualtion act of 1980, which eased entry level restrictions, giving rise to a short term spike in the number of trucks on the road, rate cutting has been de rigueur--a perception that has trickled down from regulated commodities such as broomsticks and mufflers to unregulated commodities such as cukes and onions, ie. produce...my stuff.
But I do not blame any of the above for trying to save their company money by knocking a few bills off the freight rate. If a produce broker gets two calls from truckers looking to go from Elba, New York to Baltimore, Maryland, and one will go for two hundred less than the other, which truck will the broker chose. Save his company two hundred, or put the two bills in his pocket...he's going to choose the cheaper truck. True story: the above Steve's uncle Carmen once hired a truck to go from Canastota, New York to Miami, Florida...1,450 miles...for four hundred dollars. That was the same rate he was giving me to go from Canastota to Albany, New York...125 miles.
This brings me to my second Point Of Light. WE ARE OUR OWN WORST ENEMY! We take four hundred dollar loads 1,450 miles because we want to get to the hot spot, the place where the big money loads are. Or we take cheap loads because we have been on the road for three weeks and want to get home. Or we take cheap loads because we need money and the cheapie is the only load available... only hauling cheap keeps us in need of money so we haul more cheap loads keeping us permanently in and out of the red. We have this inverse relationship between money and rates: the more strapped we get, the cheaper we haul. And the tires get slicker, the oil changes are extended, and the brakes wear thinner because we do not get it. The cost to run a truck is the same whether we want to get to the hot spot or home, whether we need money or not. We must learn what it cost to run our truck or our fleet because...a mile is a mile is a mile.

The Highway Hero

Prelude

"Is your journey really necessary?" Anonymous--British wartime slogan

I have been in the trucking business for thirty-three years and, fortunately, I do not know a helluva lot about a truck. I have what might be called an a priori knowledge of the mechanics of a truck, culled from overhearing conversations between drivers: "We need a lower rear-end ratio to give us more top end if we're going to run Florida," drivers and mechanics: "Don't you know how to adjust a fucking clutch? I want at least three inches of free play before it catches!" mechanics: "I don't think the boss knows the difference between a clutch and a fucking pressure plate," and salesmen trying to beef up the price of a new truck: "A bigger engine will give you better fuel mileage because it doesn't have to work as hard as a smaller engine. What you want is a cruising speed at a low RPM, not a cruising speed up against the governor. And you'll get the extra cost of a bigger engine back in the resale." My disingenuously astute retort to said salesmen's logic: "This is what I do. This is where I go. Spec the truck accordingly!" But I said it like I did not want to be bothered with details; like I was too busy. Actually, the attitude was a ruse, purposely designed to mask the fact that I knew nothing about specing a new truck for what I did and where I went. And my mechanic is right. I do not know the difference between a clutch and a fucking pressure plate. First time I saw the two come out of a box I thought the clutch was the pressure plate and the pressure plate the clutch.
When I changed the emphasis of my business from trucking to truck brokering I down-played the significance of new truck orders like this: "I am a truck broker first and a truck owner second. The only reason I own trucks is because owning trucks gives me the power to take more loads. I am not afraid to take orders because I can put them on my equipment if I cannot hire an outside truck. Owning trucks insures the orders I take will be covered, and that is key. Covering the orders. All I have to sell is service. And bad service means no customers...You know what I do. You know where I go. Spec the goddamn truck accordingly!" It was spoken with an insouciance that suggested I knew what I was talking about and did not care as long as my salesman got it right, althoough I did not know what right was. Then I would beat on my salesman to lower the price of the truck. I worked the price angle real hard, as if beating my salesman up somehow conveyed to him, and everyone else involved in the deal, that I knew what I was talking about. I once held up a new truck order for ninety days over a one hundred fifty dollar difference in purchase price. That was after I threw my salesman out of my office because he would not give me what I wanted for the truck I was trading in...you know, the truck with the bigger engine.
I have often wondered how mechanics and truck drivers (people in general) learn about a truck: it's components, how each component functions, and how each component compliments the next; like a series of steps that suddenly becomes a dance when you finally understand the rhythm. At what moment did they "get it?" When the radiator is cooling the fluid that cools the engine, the engine hitting on all six or eight cylinders, the transmission in conjunction with the engine, the rear-ends in harmony with the rest of the drivetrain, tires singing, air conditioning blowing refreshing cool air onto a fatigued body, radio tuned in to the best country music station in the area. When does it all become a "truck" to them? I am fifty-four years old and I still don't get it? Can't make a dance out of all the steps. How an engine works. Or how the horsepower an engine generates is transferred to the ground. It's all a priori knowledge to me. The horses go from the engine through the transmission into the rear-ends by means of a driveshaft and then, via axles, to the rubber. I know this because I listen to my drivers, mechanics, and salesman. But the engineering of it all is a mystery to me.
And here are my answers to other fundamental questions about a truck that, after thirty-three years in the business, still baffle me:
Q. How does a truck start?
A. Turn the key.

Q. How does a truck move foward?
A. Put the truck in gear. More specifically, put the truck in first gear and proceed, smoothly if possible, through the gears to the last one. And you need a clutch (The old-timers don't.) to shift. Why you need a clutch, I don't know.

Q. How does a truck accelerate?
A. Step on the accelerator.

Q. What is the function of a turbocharger?
A. I have no idea. All I know is they are goddamn expensive to replace.

Q. How does an engine retarder work?
A. With oil.

Q. What is a cam shaft?
A. No clue.

Q. Why does a loaded truck generate momentum when going down a hill?
A. I have absolutely no fucking idea. But I do know you better control that momentum or you are in trouble!

Q. And finally, how does a truck stop?
A. Step on the brakes, stupid!
Trucking 101 and I can't pass the course! I AM EMBARASSED! I am embarassed to admit my ignorance, and never did UNTIL NOW. (Noticed I said earlier my mechanic didn't "think" I know the difference between a clutch and pressure plate. He isn't sure if I know the difference because I always feign that I know the difference.) BUT...I have a good reason for my lack of knowledge, interest, and desire to learn anything about a truck. I HATE TRUCKING! Always have. Always will. Right from the first day when, fresh out of college and without a job, my old man made me change ten tires sans power equipment. I had to use hand tools: a twenty-ton hydraulic jack, a tire wrench, ball peen hammer, and a pipe.
So trust me on this one. Hating the business has bred my ignorance. But, that's a good thing for you, the reader. Because when I get to a technical part in my story (if I even go there) like my mechanic having to change a water pump, I will simply write, "My mechanic had to change a water pump," and then explain its relevance to the rest of the chapter. That will suffice because: 1) it is not enough to be boring and 2) that is all I care to know about changing a water pump. If I did write more I might bore you into thinking you are reading the September issue of Heavy Duty Trucking or Fleet magazine. For the same reasons I will not write about load optimization, routing density, smoke opacity, tire inflation, trailer suspensions, or Caterpillar vs. Detroit vs. Cummins.
I do not want to go there as much as I think you do not want to read about it.
Which probably makes you wonder why I got into the trucking business in the first place?
The answer is simple...I WAS IN LOVE, GETTING MARRIED, AND NEEDED A JOB!
So with the reason for being in the trucking business out in the open, let me further confuse you with a synopsis of why, after thirty-three years, I am still in the business I hate: I bought my father's trucking company. And that's all the history for now. When I need to tell you more, I will. I promise the forthcoming episodes will be honest, metaphorically so, if necessary; will protest the names of the guilty; will be chronologically accurate, unless changing the chronology leads to a better understanding of this story...memoir...etc. without distorting the same; succinct; as interesting as possible; and I hope you get through it with some of the information necessary to make this saga of my hatred/ignorance comprehensible. But remember, if I drift into the stupid, it is not only because of my hatred/ignorance of the trucking business. It is also because a lot of stupid stuff goes on in this business.

The Highway Hero