One day when I was in Basic Training at Fort Jackson, I was given the duty assignment of being a company driver. I got this honor by answering “yes” to the question “Can you drive a stick shift”. This is one of many questions they ask you when you first hit boot camp.
So on a given day, I was told to “fall out” and go over to the battalion motor pool and check out a two and a half ton truck. This vehicle was known as a “deuce and a half”, and its main use was to ferry soldiers about. In our case it was one of five trucks that was used to move our Training Company (E-9-2) from one training site to another (when marching was not practical).
Well… let me tell you something. When you are sitting in the cab of a deuce and a half you are sitting on top of the world. This is big. You even look down on half-tracks. I was told never to use first gear… it wasn’t needed (this has put me in good stead… I have lost first gear on my mercedes, so using first today is also not an option).
I don’t think I have ever had more fun driving than I did that day. I wish I could have taken it on the open road… let her out a bit… look for small cars to crunch… this was in the day before SUVs… today I would look for SUV to nail.
Oh yes, I was big… I was mean! Don’t mess with Private E-2 Winston, he is driving his deuce and a half.
What can I say… 6 months of aggravation, one day of joy (I also got a kick out of firing my M16 on fully automatic; but that is not germane to this conversation).
My perspective on trucks to day is a bit different. I think it has to do with their overall size… the tandem trailers don’t look too stable on turns… the cabs are enormous (I think those “compartments” in back of the drivers’ seat are bigger than my first apartment)… and they drive at very high speeds in low traffic conditions… riding behind them in a good rain is like having to drive thru a monsoon.
For all of the above, riding on the Merritt Parkway is usually my road of choice since trucks, buses and commercial vehicles are prohibited from using that route.
But this morning for variety I opted to take I-95 instead of the Merritt and ride with the big boys. It was 4:40AM when I turned on to the Turnpike from Route 8. I am in my 1988 Chevy Sprint (known as my mercedes… a story for another day)… the car without first gear.
Call it my “vehicular terrier” instinct; but I get very crabby if I have anything that cuts off my line of sight… it can be a 10 wheeler (it can be a Jeep Wrangler)… I have very little patience when it comes to riding with a bunch of trucks.
And in the pre-dawn light, trucks are lit up like Christmas Trees. This has to be a new innovation. There are “running lights” along the cab & lights along the trailer, too. I pass one or two and then I am abreast of the Fairfield Rest Area and I was nearly floored by the sight.
There were dozens of trucks parked (maybe the drivers catching a few winks in their “condos”) in multi layered lines… their lights twinkling like ocean liners resting at anchor. The Fairfield Rest Stop… this must be the “nest” where these ugly things reproduce.
Still, there was something majestic about it. I speed past it, looking to over take the next big truck ahead, and to avoid getting nailed by the one that is bearing down on my rear. Geeze, these son-of-a-bitches drive fast. I have the mercedes set for 75MPH, push it to 80 when the shimmying and shaking makes it feel like I am beginning to re-enter the earth’s atmosphere. I ease off the throttle. The nasty brute passes me on my right… I am sure he has a self contented sneer.
I have to smile…
Just riding along, and wishing that I had my deuce and half to show these cowboys a thing or two.