I Am Leading a Double Life

The title says it all. I am truly leading a double life.

You see, when I walked through the door of the truckstop today that said "professional drivers only" I was infiltrating foreign territory. I am not a truck driver, nor will I ever be. Driving a truck isn't even my profession. I don't feel at home or even totally comfortable amongst true truck drivers. I am merely playing a role. I feel like a spy. I feel guilty because I'm only using truck-driving as a tool to get out of debt, and back into school. It's merely a stepping stone whereas for the truck drivers, it's the whole damn ground they walk on. For me it's an option, for them its a last chance. This makes me feel like I don't belong. And I don't.

The interesting part is, I can do it as well as any of them, maybe even better.

Because I drive a truck I can get away with certain things. I can smell a little bit like a days worth of hard work, and nobody will think twice. I can wear whatever the fuck I want, and not have to worry because everyone else will look just as bad.

And to them-- it's the uniform.

I can talk as poorly as I want, and everyone will understand.

I can get away with not shaving for a week, which is nice sometimes. Today I'm on day 4.

There is my trucking life, and then there is my normal life-- which is what I consider real life. My friends keep me going through all of this, though when I'm on the road it feels like I'm talking to them from another dimension. From outer space or something. And when they happen to interact with me inside the trucking world, well it's just strange.

When I look at people in cars or on the street who are looking at me as I drive the truck, I can't help but think to myself, "You really just have no idea who I am, do you?"

I know what I look like, but I am not a truck driver. Nor will I ever be one.

I promise I clean up nice, though.

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Hello from Laredo, Texas. I feel like I'm in another country. I've heard more Spanish than I have English today, some of it from myself-- very poorly though. I got the load to Laredo from Flomaton, Florida on time but just barely. With twelve minutes to spare, in fact. I ran into a bit of a problem yesterday, which I'll post about later this evening, but due to that and taking a bit too much time with my friends, I had to really focus and plan well to get the load to Texas on time. Truth be told, I was nearly certain that I wasn't going to be able to make it.

Somehow, I did it. And it really made my morning.

I had to back the truck up to a very tough spot, quite tight, and a trucker who was standing by ended up guiding me in (that sounds so damn dirty-- I apologize haha). It took me about 15-20 minutes, but I put the truck where it needed to go. And the way I look at it is, if I can do that and keep having to do that-- I'll get pretty good pretty quickly.

I got the bill of lading, and that finished my second trip by myself.

It was a load of cotton, by the way. 35,000 lbs worth. I think I'm going to keep a list of the materials I'm carrying and the weight. In fact, I'm going to keep a list of all the places I stop, all the roads I travel, the people I meet, and just interesting things from the road. Then, once I'm done put everything in a box and leave it alone for a few months. Then revisit it, and see what happens.

I've been thinking of trying to write a book.

We'll see how that works out.

I think I'm going to start using my voice recorder from the road. It'll help to pass the time, and I can cover a lot of ground pretty quickly, and record things as I think of them. I find myself thinking some pretty profound, and at times quite strange, things.

These things need to be recorded, ha.

I think I may get a paycheck this coming week. If not, that will suck-- but what can you do?

Anyway, Laredo is very dusty and very hot. It really is like another country in a lot of different ways. US border patrol guards are sitting at a table not far from me, which I've never seen before. Ironically, their server is Mexican. There is something to be said about that, though I'm not sure what.

Earlier today I got stuck in a Spanish-speaking section of town on a non-truck route, and knew only enough Spanish to ask, "Where is the interstate?" but not enough to understand anyone's responses.

Comical.

Anyhow, it's time to go clean the truck up a bit-- and then take a shower.

Then of course, more posting.

Keep Reading.