Okay, won't pick on your home! Hey, that's right, the board did hiccup, wonder where it would be now if that had not happened?

 

Yeah, sure did more than once so the count probably would have been a lot further along but it's cyber space and the black holes are every where.. Nothing worse than being SUCKED into a cyber black hole and being spit out somewhere near Paducah!!!!
Oh the humanity, not to mention the explaining that would have to be done!!!
Speaking of which it's time to post another Farside adventure........

 

Well, way back when (back in the 70's)- just for the 'youngins' information - the hammerlane was known as the 'Monfort' lane - why, because there were very few trucks in the country that could run with them. Most of them had V-12's. They hauled 'swinging beef' from Greely, Co to everywhere and anywhere. Anyway, I remember one dreary night rolling across Nebraska (I-80) somewhere between North Platte and Grand Island when I spotted headlights rapidly approaching in my mirrors. A voice loomed on the CB and asked if I had any 'coffee' - to which I replied, 'sure do' - in fact, I had two thermos of coffee which I had just filled at Sapp Bros in Sidney.
'Would you be willing to share some', came the question? 'No problem' I replied - 'where are you'....'coming up on your back door'....Before I could bat an eye, a large car (black Pete) was beside me in the hammerlane - a Monfort truck. The driver, whose handle was 357 Magnum, said, 'hold her steady driver - back her down to about 50'....'and roll down your window'....I complied and back out of it til the odometer read a 50 mph....I glanced over and the passenger door of the Monfort truck opened and out on the steps, stepped the co-driver. I took a thermos in hand and held it out my window as far as possible and the Monfort driver grabbed it and retreated within his truck. About five minutes later, his door opened again and the co-driver stepped out and handed back my thermos. 'Thanks partner', 357 remarked as he put the pedal to the metal and left me staring at his trailer lights pulling away in the night. Several months later, I happened to be parked in Denver when a driver walked up to my truck - 'hey, I remember you - you're the driver we got coffee from going across Nebraska'....'Yup, I'm the one'....and with that we went inside and chatted for a while. Seems they left the terminal with a load of swinging and both forgot to fill the thermos.
I asked him if they did that often, referring to standing on the steps while rolling down the blvd. 'Nope, he replied, 'that was the first and hopefully the last, but we really needed our coffee and didn't have time to stop'. That has to rate close to the top as the strangest things seen while cruising down the blvd.

 

Oh, for the good old days. Remember the ole vacuum wipers - the ones whenever you stepped on the throttle, they would stop. It became especially touchy when you were climbing a mountain, in a snow storm, throttle to the floor - no wipers! So, we had a string attached to the sides of the wiper and pulled on the string while climbing the mountain so as to see. It also was helpful sticking ones' head out the window to make certain you were on the highway.

Oh, for the good old days, when we sat a bucket of ice on the dash and had the windshield fans blowing over it for 'air conditioning'....

Oh, for the good old days when Donner Pass was just a narrow windy two lane and you could look down over the side and see trashed wrecked trucks laying there. In those days, they made no effort to recover the truck or freight, just the driver.

Oh, for the good old days when most of the Husky's and Skelly Truckstops had bunkrooms for drivers. Cost - $0.50 a night.

Oh, for the good old days when almost every truckstop gave a driver a free meal on his birthday, and with a fillup - regardless of the amount.

Oh, for the good old days when we pulled 42, 45 ft trailers,and the gross was 72,380. We would work our butts off backing into a slot because without powersteering it became an effort.

Oh, for the good old days when we sat hour after hour in seats that didn't have air suspension, or tractors without air-ride.

Oh, for the good old days when we laid a 3/4" piece of plywood across the seats for our bunk.

Oh, for the good old days when we got our first sleeper - with a suicide hole to crawl through - either feet first, or head first. And had a whole 28" bunk to sleep on!

Oh, for the good old days, when we had to hold in the igniter to lite the glow plug before the engine would fire, or give it a shot of ether as an added incentive.

Oh, for the good old days when you could cruise down the highway and see the top of some stacks glowing in the dark from having the engines turned up to max.

Oh, for the good old days when we had twin sticks, a 5 and a 4, reached through the steering wheel to shift and prayed we didn't miss - cause if we did, we headed for the shoulder and started over. There was no forgiveness in the sticks.

Oh, for the good old days when we could leave our trucks unlocked, cigarettes lying on the dash and come back to find everything still there.

Oh, for the good old days when you headed for the shoulder because of a flat, or engine trouble and before you could set the brakes, there would be several other trucks stopped to help.

Oh, for the good old days when drivers would help each other change turbos, waterpumps, etc. in a parking lot, or on the shoulder if needbe!

Oh, for the good old days before the advent of the CB's when we signalled each other with hand signals, or light signals. We didn't know what was in store for us when the CB's came out.

Oh, for the good old days when there was regulation - when you didn't see bull wagons hauling onions or potatoes - you hauled what you were licensed to haul period.

Oh, for the good old days when we had to manage bingo cards, bingo plates and dozens of tax decals on the side of the truck.

Oh, for the good old days when 'truckers' were a symbol America looked up and represented a 'Guardian' on the highway to anyone in distress - albeit a flat or mechanical or whatever.

Oh, for the good old days when a driver would park on the back row, get out his 'grill' and dozens of other drivers would show up, chip in and everyone would have a feast of a meal that day.

Oh, for the good old days when drivers' had respect, courtesy and concern for each other - a bond like no other, but no more!

Oh, for the good old days - I sure do miss them!

 

Magician you sure brought back some memories talking about the good ol days.

When I was little my Mom worked at Bears truck stop in Shelby, Montana and one day a week she had no sitter for me so she would just take me to work with her until my older sister got out of school. I remember so many times my mom telling the cook to put a little extra on the plate for the driver or her filling a thermos and not charging the driver. I can remember the drivers telling anyone who cussed to watch there mouth that there was a child in the room. You sure don't hear that much anymore either.

 

My grandad started driving in the forties and quit in the late seventies, my mother was an O/O in the seventies before she was killed in 79'. I started my driving career in 94' in a 54' White with a set of sticks and a milk crate to sit on.

In 1996 I was working for Boise cascade pullin double possum bellies. This trip I was going up to Republic, wa. for a load of sawdirt. I decided to take a different route this time and go up through grand coulee and cut off at nespelem and go across cash creek rd.
Well I could'nt remember if it was cash creek or peterdan creek rd. so I chose the later, peterdan creek rd. is an 8% grade goin up and coming back down the otherside. On the way up I seen a turnout bout halfway up, and I really had to squirt the dirt so I pulled in and sank up to the axles in sand both trailers still out in the road.
After 2hrs of tryin to dig it out with a coffee cup a sheriff and a tow truck show up. The tow truck pulls the tractor up onto the pavement and the pup is now sitting in the holes that I made with the truck.
After gitting the bill I proceeded up over the top and down the otherside at 50mph about halfway down I decide it's time to apply some brake, but there was none. At the bottom of the road it T's with hwy21 the otherside of the T is a lake. I was runnin about 1300rpms I tried and did hit the next hole down, I got down to 30mph by the time I hit the T and thank God that there was'nt nothin comin. I made the corner still dont know how but I did thought for sure I was going to roll it.

 

Wow, now this really brought back a memory of meeting the same driver on I-80 in Pennsylvania for all of 10 seconds in a blur of lights!!!

Yes I drove a truck or three that had these gems of human engineering!!

Yeah this too sure made for a comfortable evening after running all day with a day cab!

Oh yeah, Kenworth W-900 with Armstrong Steering, didn't know what "power steering" was until 1989!!!!

There was air ride in the 70's??????

Yeah still have splinters to prove it!!!

Now this I can relate to real well, I really do miss the dual stick Macks I drove....

This is true but we did bring the disrespect on ourselves, you did mention the CB and that in itself created a major part of the problem today!!!

Do I really miss the "Good Old Days" not really, there were a lot of problems we tended to ignore, cause we were too busy hustling freight down the highway to pay attention.

 

Still not quite 9000 but the anniversary has arrived 2 years, 16 pages and 8600 + views still not too shabby...

The Long Island Expressway and propane always fun on a hot summer day!!

Yes I was the driver who closed down the Long Island Expressway.
It was a hot summer day and I was shanghaied into pulling a propane tank to Long Island no matter how much I objected I was on my way.
On the ride over I kept hearing something hissing I pulled over to check the airlines, they looked OK but the hissing persisted I looked at the air tanks, they were tight, plus the gauges weren?t fluctuating, so I just wrote it off and continued on.
I dropped on to the L.I.E heading east all the while noticing cars and trucks passing me blowing their horns, it was New York, so I ignored them. That was until I crossed in to Nassau County when I caught a glimpse in the mirror of a plume of smoke shooting out of the top of the tank. It didn?t take long for the Nassau County Police to pull me over and that?s when the fun began. The police immediately closed both sides of the expressway while we tried to come up with a solution to prevent the inevitable KABOOM. Several fire companies arrived and started spraying water and foam on the tank to keep it cool. I noticed the news helicopters circling overhead I wondered who was going to call home first. The interlude was interrupted by a firefighter telling me he could fix the leak. He commandeered a captains car and we rode to the nearest plumbing supply house. The firefighter told me he was a plumber, who was I to argue with him. I paid for all the parts necessary to fix the problem ruining the commuters day.
When we got back he climbed up onto the back of the tank and went to work. 20 minutes later the leak was sealed with $5.00 worth of parts.
The crisis averted I went on to finish the run.

When I got back, the people who owned the tank were extremely upset I told them I didn?t want to do the run in the first place. The inquisition wasn?t over by any means after I got home. Dad said my Uncle called and told him I had created a major mess. I told Dad I hated to do things half way. I also received a bunch of phone calls due to my 30 minutes of fame and a lot of them weren't extremely friendly!!!

It is good to see others posting stories, this thread just may hit 10,000 by year three!!!!

Magician was correct this thread did reach page 16...

 

Hey Magician does this one sound familiar?????

One of the dumbest things ever done by this individual (don't like admitting it) but it's funny since years have passed....Way back when, I loaded cabinets in Grants Pass, Oregon and all the broker said was they were going to East St. Louis Park....that's all I heard from him...And, I didn't bother double checking the bill of lading, etc...So off I headed ....Easterly bound on I-84...then down US 30 to Kemmer, Wy...to I-80...over to Laramie and down US 287 to Denver and I-70...headed straight across to St. Louis...grabbed a St. Louis map and checked the address....no such street address...well, called the broker...no answer...finally, out of desperation, stopped a local cop and asked him if he had ever heard of this address....He proceeded to call it in, and the response came back...no such address.. ...Well, it finally dawned on me to double check the bills just in case the street address was wrong...and to my surprise....there beside East St.Louis Park....in barely readable letters were MN....I grabbed the Atlas and sure enough...southwest of Twin Cities...lay East St. Louis Park....did I feel stupid, or what? Put the ole gal in the wind and drove non-stop from St. Louis to East St. Louis Park and made the delivery the next morning...fortunately when I was in St. Louis, I was a day early and ended up making the drop in East St. Louis Park on time...
Never did mention it to the broker. But it has to rate as one of the dumbest things done by this individual...

This is an original by Magician 73.....

 

This can a bit unnerving especially at 03:00 in the middle of Nowhere:

Rolling across I-40 in Oklahoma late one night I was pushing harder than I should have I was trying to get to Amarillo before day break. The coffee cup was empty for quite some time and the numbing effect of exhaustion was slowly creeping up on me, I kept telling myself I could hang in for another 200 miles or so. One other thing I noticed the highway was almost totally void of traffic, which was not a very good sign, and the CB was quiet except for the occasional distant voice.
As the last lights of civilization disappeared from the mirrors exhaustion enveloped me with a vengeance however, I continued to fight it off until I saw a covered wagon cross the interstate in front of me I locked up the brakes up and pulled off the road. The adrenalin rush was enough to wake me up but I knew I had to find a safe place to pull over and sleep. An Oklahoma Highway Patrol officer pulled up and asked me if all was well. I gave him a description of the wagon he just looked at me and said ?You need to get off the road?
No kidding. He gave me an escort to the next exit I went up the ramp crossed over the intersection and pulled off to the side of the entrance ramp, crawled into the sleeper and drifted off into much needed sleep. Amarillo would have to wait.

To this day I swear the ?mirage? was the ghost of a lost pioneer family!!