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FROM THE EDITOR’S DESK BY JOHN WHITE Welcome to the Big Rig Show! That is a phrase that, if you tune in, you will hear me say live on our new social media TV program. Using a “talk show” format, I will host a weekly program featuring interviews with drivers and experts from around the industry where, with your input, we will discuss topics of interest to you. We will discuss anything and everything that concerns trucking and will also keep you up to date on trucking news, regulations, and parts and services. Please email me at john@ptmag.ca with your suggestions for topics and then stay tuned for more information. We will make further announcements on our websites, Facebook pages and through our Trucking Jobs and Services App.
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EDITOR-IN-CHIEF John White: john@ptmag.ca PUBLISHER Coast2Coast Business Pages Ltd. ADVERTISING/MARKETING Tony Arora: tony@coast2coastpages.com John White: john@ptmag.ca CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Bill Weatherstone • Colin Black • Dave Madill • Ed Murdoch • Glen Mallard • Myrna Chartrand • Scott Casey • John Maywood PHOTOGRAPHY Ben Proudley • Alicia Cornish David Benjatschek wowtrucks.com
By the way, if you have not already downloaded this app, I suggest that you do it. It is a free app and an excellent tool while you are on the road or at home. You will find everything there from jobs to service providers and everything in between. You will also find a link to the latest Pro-Trucker/Driver’s Choice Magazine so that you will never miss an issue. Road Trip! After being hunkered down for the last few months because of Covid-19, I was going stir crazy and desperately needed to get some bugs on my windshield. So I headed up to the Parkland Fuels Chevron Cardlock on Versatile Drive in Kamloops BC, where the “Food for Truckers” program started. I was happy to meet Dan De Palma and Tammy Keiff from today’s food sponsor, Streamline Transportation Technologies, from Kamloops. And CookShack Cravings truck owner Deanne with cook Hardley
From Left to Right: Tammy, Deanne, Hardley and Dan I later spoke with Greg Munden, from Munden Transport, about the program he co-started with Brad Wood, owner of Interior Vaulta, a Kamloops moving and storage management company owner. Greg said, “The program has seen pretty much steady sponsorship of all meals since the beginning of April at Kamloops, Kelowna and Chilliwack Parkland Chevron locations up until about two weeks ago. Sponsorship has been a little more off and on in West Kelowna and Hope. Sponsorship is slowing down now. We had expected it to drop off after a couple of weeks initially, so this is incredible. Kamloops has continued to get pretty regular sponsorship up until now.” To sponsor the program, you can contact Greg at gmunden@mundentrucking.ca Look for Greg to be featured on an episode of The Big Rig Show.
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RIG OF THE MONTH by Kelly Malanik
O
ur Rig of the Month for July/ August 2020 is John Maywood owner of Ulster Transport in Abbotsford BC. I first met John at our very first BC Big Rig Weekend some 20 years ago. He drove in with the beautiful truck that you see here. It is hard to believe it is a working truck because it looks as good today as it did back then. This is John’s story: John, you have asked if I had anything to contribute that would be of interest to your readers and especially now that some of your regulars like the rest of us are succumbing to the ravages of old age. For the most part, I now have my hands full with running my company and part-time driving, especially during the fall and winter months, when I’m not otherwise taking work away from my owner-operators. I guess in my fifty-two plus years of trying to get up and down the road, I’ve seen my share of strange and wonderful things and some not quite so wonderful. Like others, I have seen a lot of highway carnage, had some serious near-misses and narrow escapes of my own, that, other than for split-second timing
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and maybe an automatic response to a situation, has foiled a few tragedies. Those are the things that a person will recount over and over again, on nights when sleep doesn’t come easy. I have talked before about having an interest and perhaps an inborn knack that prevailed amongst most drivers from the past, that likely kept some of us out of trouble for the most part, and helped us live up to the ‘professional’ label, we all like to embrace. Of course, there are still a good many decent drivers out on the road, but sadly, the trucking environment itself, teamed with the pressures of over-regulation, have enabled many who have no business being behind the wheel of a truck, to pass themselves off as ‘truck drivers’! I learned to drive under the watchful eye of an uncle of mine at an early age. I was eight years old in rural England when I horrified my grandmother, who had a long gravel driveway, seeing my uncle’s 1929 Austin Seven, which was basically a cut-down version of a model ‘A,’ running back and forth with no apparent sign of a driver, because I
could barely see over the steering wheel.
John Maywood
Saturday mornings would find me getting up early and running down the end of our road to meet up with the bread delivery man in a very aromatic ‘Thames’ van. I rode with him long enough each week that he finally gave in and let me drive while he picked up the loaves from the racks in the back and made his house to house calls, while I slowly kept pace with him. I clearly remember one morning meeting a ‘Bobbie’, an English policeman, riding by on his bicycle. For some unknown reason, unless he was visually challenged, he simply waved at me and kept going. This was much to my relief because if my dad had found out what I was up to, it would have been a fair amount of time before I could comfortably sit down. This happened just a year or so before we immigrated to Canada in 1956. When I was a kid, I would often hang out where the double-decker buses were. They were mostly Leyland diesels that rattled out a tune as they idled away. JULY / AUGUST 2020
www.driverschoice.ca I would listen as the drivers picked up the gears as they headed uphill and out of sight, daydreaming that one day that would be me, behind the wheel. 1961 found me at an RCAF radar site in an isolated part of Northern Vancouver Island called Holberg, where my dad had been transferred from the Uplands base in Ottawa. I was in grade eleven, and much to my dismay (!!??!! and smiley-faced emoji’s) school at the base only went to grade eight. You know how much it rains in Holberg John, so with not much else for an out of school teenager to occupy his time, and since my folks and all close neighbours were so sick of salmon that they insisted I not go fishing so often, I resorted to graduating by taking government correspondence. By cramming, I was able to finish my final grades of high school in just over a year. After I graduated, I left home and went to work for Rayonier Forest Products at the nearby logging camp, where I started off setting chokers and rigging slinging. Just for historical interest, Holberg had once been the largest floating logging camp in the world but was mostly out of the water when I arrived there and discovered bunkhouse food was hard to beat. After a while, I somehow lucked out and managed to get working in the shop on the afternoon shift helping with vehicle maintenance, which included gravel and logging trucks, along with the pickups and crummies. If my memory serves me, there were three gravel trucks and seven or eight logging trucks, an old Kenworth, International and part MackHayes rebuilt was the gravel truck fleet, and the loggers were mostly Pacifics and a couple of HDX’s. I enjoyed every opportunity to hang around after hours and weekends with some of the drivers, the likes of Ken King, Ben Tolfree, Earl McAleer listening to their stories and truck jargon and was able to ride along with them the odd time before my shift. Then, you probably guessed it, before too long I was running trucks around the camp, JULY / AUGUST 2020
fueling them up along with filling the water tanks for cooling the brakes. The only way into Holberg at that time was by water or air so often the guys, who went back to civilization for a getaway, failed to return. Fortunately for me, this included truck drivers too, so eventually my opportunity to drive, first a gravel truck, then later, a log truck arose. Everything was off-highway and being truck crazy, which I am still accused of being to this day, I would have readily worked for just room and board, let alone draw wages for the privilege of driving a truck. I don’t want this to drag on, so I’ll perhaps leave my learning curves and driving experiences in Holberg for another time, and talk about the equipment we had back then. The gravel trucks all had off-highway boxes, ten feet wide, I think, and I’m not sure of the capacity, or the years of the trucks for that matter, but I would guess the early fifties. The International could have been a V-Liner gas pot, the Kenworth had an unmistakable 671 Detroit and the part Mack-Hayes that I started on had, I believe, a 180 Cummins. It had been an old logging truck wreck at one time, it had three sticks and like most off-highway stuff, a top speed of around thirty miles an hour, which at times on those roads almost seemed too fast. The only working gauges were oil pressure and water temperature, and Ben Tolfree had once told me you could roll a smoke between main shifts when driving that old beast. The gravel trucks were mostly for new road construction and building landings. The logging trucks were newer, and a couple of the Pacifics had arrived on Island Tug and Barge in the summer of 1962, powered with the big Cummins 250s. I later drove an HDX with a 220, again not sure of the year, I think we all had twelve-foot bunks with turntable bolsters. One or two of the older trucks still had wooden reaches with the compensator inside the truck frame. Everything was watercooled because of the grades and the fact that we were packing a couple of hundred thousand pounds or more of wood, especially with loads of hemlock.
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Mine had a stack through the hood with a flame arrester and was likely responsible for my lifelong love of straight pipes and my somewhat loss of hearing that my wife reminds me of whenever we’re watching TV together. I left Holberg in 1963 for North Bay Ontario and applied to join the RCMP influenced by the urgings of the Mountie stationed in Port Alice, who visited Holberg regularly. My experience with him can be told at another time also. I discovered then that Ontario did not recognize BC’s grade 12, so I ended up taking it over again and thus have two grade 12 diplomas to my credit. I was four years in the police force and ended up in Cranbrook, where I purchased my discharge in 1968 and went to work for Millar and Brown, mostly, I guess, because I couldn’t get trucks out of my system. I had spent much of my off duty time as a policeman either riding along or taking trips out of town, which was frowned upon big time by the RCMP. Millar and Brown was a great place to work, and the crew there were real professionals, as most over the road drivers were in those days. The only reason I left a year and a half later was to buy my own truck. The first one was a 1961 B61 Mack that I owned for a couple of months just to hold a position with Crestbrook Forest Industries in Cranbrook, while awaiting a new 1969 Hayes HD with a Columbia trailer, to get back into the log hauling environment. Millar and Brown had nice equipment for the times, conventional Kenworth’s with aluminum frames, rubber block suspension, 8V71 Detroit’s, four and four trannies with ninety under A boxes, 44,000 diffs., we had mostly 38 and 40-foot trailers with a few of the new longer 42’s. Everything then was 8 foot wide and 12’ 6” high, and 72000lbs was the order of the day. There were no air ride seats. We had Bostrom-Vikings with height and slide adjustments only, which was almost the same as sitting on a block of wood. Suspensions in that era were either spring, torsion bar, or rubber block, all comparatively rigid compared to what we have today. There Pro-Trucker Driver’s Choice Magazine
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was no power steering, and the front wheels of the first cab-over Kenworth I owned could not be turned if the truck was not in motion. There was no air conditioning, although we could roll down the window on the rear cab panel of the conventional KW’s, which we did in the heat of summer to avoid a meltdown while climbing an adverse at a snail’s pace. Opening that window at higher rates of speed could result in a rock coming off the drives and hitting you behind the ear, which smarted considerably. There were no steering axle brakes until 1981. Trailers had no maxi’s at all just regular service brake pots, so you had to chock the wheels after unhooking if you drained the tanks or had a bad air leak, particularly if you had landing gear with cast wheels instead of sand pads. Tractors themselves only had one set of maxi’s on the front axle, so depending on where you parked and how heavy you were, if you failed to block the wheels properly, your unit may or may not be waiting where you left it. There was not much in the way of creature comforts for tractors back then, it would be a rare truck that would sport an AM radio, and most company trucks had the standard KW cardboard interior panels and headliners. At Millar and Brown, those 8V71’s were all the entertainment you needed anyway. Running from Cranbrook to wherever you were headed with two-cycle Detroits monitored by tachographs keeping track of the 1900 -2100 operating range the company wanted, would reward you with a tune that rang in your ears and remained with you for hours after each trip. They consumed the best part of a gallon of oil every day, but for the most part, they were indestructible. Another nice feature of those early 8V71’s was their ability to suddenly run backwards if you tried to take off under too much of a strain. When that happened, the engine would suck air down through the exhaust and blow the exhaust out the intake. This turned out to be very messy if your truck was equipped with oil bath breathers as it would cover your motor with oil if the cold air diverters were Pro-Trucker Driver’s Choice Magazine
facing inwards, and the hood, fenders and windshield, if facing outward. You would then have to shut the engine off and restart it. I spent what seemed like a week at the Phillips Cable plant in Sentinel Alberta, one bitter cold and blustery winter evening when that happened, but that’s a story for another time. The one luxury we did have at Millar and Brown was that some of the Fruehauf trailers had air over hydraulic landing gear, which was controlled by hand levers once you applied air to the trailer. This was really handy if you had 22” rubber and the guy who dropped the trailer only had 20”. In those days, we had bias-ply tires, with tubes and liners, split rims with lock rings. Mounting those tires on the split rims could be really hazardous to your health without a mounting cage or chaining the lock rings to prevent them from becoming airborne upon inflation, if not properly installed and gently tapped to make sure they were seated. You could not limp down the road too far with a flat like you can today. The friction of the tube, liner and tire would start a fire, and burning rubber is hard to put out. With no such thing as cell phones and in the middle of nowhere, you’d have to pack a jack and wrestle the wheel off and single it out or carry a repair kit and inflation hose with you to get you back on the road again. Budd wheels with inner and outer studs and nuts before the advent of hub piloted mounts were bad enough, but with Dayton wheels, you’d have to dismount the tire, tube and liner and put the tireless wheel back on to get going if you couldn’t repair the flat. Some of the older trailers, especially the decks, had copper airlines which are not so easy to jury rig. On one occasion heading to Osoyoos with a full load on BC’s number 3 highway, which is notorious for its grades anyway, a line ruptured on a rail crossing by Greenwood and forced me to run the rest of the trip with no trailer air and watch my P’s and Q’s on all the favourable grades since the jakes on those 8V71’s were more noise than hold back.
We hear a lot these days about the benefits and imagined fuel savings using super single wheels and tires, they were actually tried back in the late sixties early seventies but never caught on perhaps because tire repair facilities were not as accessible on the road like they are today so a problem with one of them then, was a real problem, they couldn’t be singled out the way you can with duals. The only wheel bearings lubricated by oil on those vintage trucks and trailers were on the drive axle, the steering and trailer axles were all greased and had to be disassembled and re-packed fairly regularly. Trucking in general in that era was a lot more ‘hands-on’ than it is now. Also, there was a certain comradery amongst drivers that is hard to define, and yet everyone out on the road seemed aware of it. You would not think of meeting or passing another truck without a friendly wave, or blinking the clearance lights at a passing rig at night, and it would be unthinkable to drive by a break down without stopping to offer assistance. There were no logbooks to contend within Canada, and you could drive for three days at a time if you were capable of that, and many did, generally without incident too, I might add, truckers seemed to be built for the job and what it demanded. We would load trailers by hand, sometimes all day, and then drive all night and maybe the next day to get somewhere. The motors were small by today’s standards, but we all had little tricks to get the most out of them. A bigger fuel flow button, a few shims and heavy-duty springs would do wonders for a Cummins, and a crescent wrench and a screwdriver was all you needed to doctor the throttle box on a Detroit to get more revs and performance out of it. I once had a 1966 cab-over Kenworth with a 335 Cummins and a T590 blower, it came out of the factory with a straight pipe, and had a whistle sounding rhythmic hum to it that was music to the ears, not harsh even on the jake. Speaking of engine brakes, back JULY / AUGUST 2020
www.driverschoice.ca 13 then, even the public seemed more tolerant and truck aware. There was not a sign on every hill demanding that you refrain from using part of the legal safety equipment your tractor came with. Times are changing, of course, but in some areas not necessarily progressive. My truck that you see here is a 1997 Peterbilt 379. The only trucks in our fleet that I have little or no confidence in are the ‘latest and greatest’ models. The ones equipped with all the bells and whistles. The sensors, the emission controls, the automatics, the rollover sensor controls, the anti-lock braking systems, the automatic chainers etc. One day all there will be left for us to do is to drive - and what fun will that be? I can’t define what it is that has made driving such an important part of my life. It’s probably a combination of things like staring down the shiny hood of a powerful machine and watching the road move beneath you, listening to the drone of a well-tuned diesel engine doing what it was meant to do. That
feeling of freedom and adventure as you head out on the open road knowing that this time tomorrow you’ll be hundreds of miles away and being able to enjoy every minute of getting there. The sense of accomplishment in getting someone’s goods delivered through all kinds of conditions and being as one with the unit in controlling every move it makes. Perhaps it’s the isolation and being your own boss while you’re behind the wheel, cresting a summit on a moonlit night, or maybe it’s just the love of trucks. Editor’s note: Concerning John’s statement about Holberg having the largest floating logging camp in the world, my father ran heavy equipment in Holberg when I was a child, and we lived on that floating camp. I remember it being a long walk for a 4-5-yearold, from the shore ramp to our house, which was the very last one in the row out on the water. There was a common walkway in front, and then each house had a picket fence around it, much like
any neighbourhood on land. From the moment we got out of bed in the morning until we went to bed at night, my brother and sisters and I wore our May West life vests – even in the house or out in our “front yard.” One of the reasons was that neither my mother nor father could swim, and my mother was terrified that one of us would wander away. My father told me that when we finally left that camp, my mother was so relieved that she threw the life vests in the ocean. As mentioned, we wore them rain or shine, and if you are at all familiar with the properties of May West life vests – you know that they absorb water. My father, with a bit of a grin, told me years later that when they hit the water, they promptly sank. He also said that my mother - who was very soft-spoken - broke out of her shell that day and expressed in no uncertain terms exactly what kind of weather it would take before she would live in a floating camp again. Just for the record, as far as I know, it has never been that cold.
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Letters to the Editor John, Thank you for a great magazine. I especially like your last issue where you, Scott Casey, Ed Murdoch and letter writer Tom Spencer talked about the sacrifices that Truck Drivers have always made and how they are finally being recognized for their dedication during the Coronavirus pandemic. I was also very happy to see the recognition given to them by people like Brad Wood, Greg Munden, the BCTA and all the sponsors of the meals for truckers not only here but across the country. Most people don’t understand the sacrifices that a truck driver makes to support their family. My Dad spent many, what I am sure were, lonely days and nights on the road. But his hard work and sacrifice allowed my mom to stay home and raise us three kids, and we always had everything we needed. Life wasn’t perfect. My Dad missed some birthdays and special occasions, but he always called to let us kids know he was thinking of us on those days. He missed my high school graduation because times were tough, and he needed the money that that extra load would bring in. He also missed my graduation from University sadly because he passed the year before, but I stood proud and silently thanked him when I received my degree knowing that it was because of his hard work and sacrifice that I was able to go to University in the first place. Name withheld by request.
cker azine Pro-Tru Choice Mag s Driver’
the beautiful Okanagan and specialize in hauling mobile and manufactured homes across western Canada. I’m wondering if you or your readers would be interested in hearing from truckers that haul homes? I think I can intrigue your readers by writing what it’s like hauling houses over the Coq, across the ocean on barges, and to small remote places. Readers may also be interested in the challenges we face not just as truck drivers but as drivers who haul loads 18’ wide and 68’ long. Thanks for your time. I look forward to hearing from you. Cheers, Melissa Sinclair Bluenose Mountain Transport Ltd. Editor’s note: Thank you Melissa, I enjoyed your story. You can find it on page 42 To our readers: Do you have a story about a trip you have made that will interest our readers? If so you can contact me at john@ptmag.ca
Editors note: Thank you for your email I know it will mean a lot to the drivers out on the road as I am sure there are times when some wonder if it is all worth it. Your letter will go a long way towards reassuring them. John, I have been meaning to write for a while now. I just want to say that I have been reading Pro-Trucker for many years now and I really like the new Pro-Trucker Driver’s Choice. I think there is more than a few of us out here on the road who would rather read a magazine than go to a website and read it on our cell phone. Thanks for always supporting us drivers and keep up the good work. “Woody” the log hauler. Editor’s note: I have to agree with you Woody, I prefer a paper version also. There aren’t many paper magazines left, but we will continue to print as long as they are being picked up. Just out of curiosity, do you ever get teased about your nick-name? Stay safe. Hi John, My name is Melissa, I own a trucking company called Bluenose Mountain Transport. We’re based in Kelowna in JULY / AUGUST 2020
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All in a Day’s Work I
t was a Friday, and I had found that load I’d been looking for all week. You know the one - the one that would take me home. Loading had gone without a hitch. I had my paperwork, coffee’d up, and was pulling out of the mill at 6 am. With stops for fuel, lunch, and a few here and there to get rid of used coffee, I calculated I’d be home by 5 pm. I was genuinely looking forward to seeing my kids. We played a game where I would put on my old army gear and Ghuille Suit (the big hairy looking green and light brown ones you see snipers in the movies wearing) and go out on our property and hide in the open. They would watch with amazement as I took an army two-tone green stick of camouflage paint and apply it to my face, neck, and hands. In the matter of a few minutes, my exterior became someone else’s. The deal in this game was if they found me within a thirty-minute time limit (and some hints via walkie talkies) I would take them for ice cream. I never technically had to buy them any, but I’m a big kid and love my ice cream too. That and many other thoughts of time spent at home with family went through my mind as I drove away the hours. No traffic, no line up at the fuel pumps, and my lunch when I stopped was ready almost instantly. That was until I saw the marks on the highway. Two long strips of rubber that swerved across the center line and then sharply veered back to my side of the road. The marks changed from sliding black to churned up gravel as they careened off the road and down over a steep embankment. The drop off I estimated to be 40ft. There was still dust
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in the air, which alerted me to the reality that I was once again going to be the first on the scene of a car wreck. Luckily there was a large wide spot that I immediately pulled off the road into and stopped. I quickly grabbed my cell phone, first aid kit and my gloves. As I ran to where the car had gone over, I did a quick assessment of the area. It was a twisted mess of metal and broken trees. Before descending, I phoned 911 and told the dispatch operator all of my information and exact location, asking for all three first responder entities - Police, Fire, and Paramedics. I stayed on the line as I climbed down the embankment knowing in my mind that by the condition of the car, I would probably be seeing something I didn’t want to. My intuition, unfortunately, was spot on. There were two individuals inside the car. The car itself was unrecognizable as to what make and model it was. It didn’t really matter. Cars are all the same. As I clambered over a shattered tree, so I could see in the closest opening, my gaze fell upon an immense amount of blood. I’ll refrain from being anymore graphic than to say much like the car. The occupants were unrecognizable. Miraculously, they were both alive. I did the best first aid assessment I could as I spoke to the 911 dispatcher describing that the victims were a male and female both in their late twenties/early thirties. Using my training from the army in dealing with traumatic wounds, I went to work stabilizing the two victims. Once I had the bleeding stopped, I spent the last thirty minutes -- which was more an eternity -- before the emergency services
By Scott Casey
Scott, our Rig of The Month for May 2003 has written “Ghostkeepers” a book about his years as a gun toting truck driver while serving as a Canadian Peacekeeper in the former Yugoslavia.
arrived comforting and holding the hands both of them. They were busted up pretty bad, and neither could speak coherently. I told them about my kids and our farm and how beautiful it was. I told them about how I had just gone fishing and caught a seven-pound rainbow trout with my daughter. About the look on her face when it first bit on her line. Emergency personnel arrived, and they hurriedly went to work freeing the couple from the car and rushed them to the hospital. It wasn’t until I was climbing back up from the scene that I discovered the young woman’s purse, her identification, and a photo of the couple strewn up the hill. As I handed it to the police constable, I noted that they were a beautiful couple from Trinidad vacationing here. Three weeks later, I received a letter via my company’s mail thanking me for stopping and being there with them. They expressed that they were very appreciative of how they were treated in Canada in general but wanted to give thanks for my concern and care. It meant a great deal to them. Much like the car, I hadn’t been able to tell the make or model of the couple either. It didn’t matter where they were from, how old they were, or what colour their skin was. My nights still have recollections of that day. But I ran down that hill because it was the right thing to do. We all bleed red; we all only get one go around. They were extremely lucky, and they were alive. I wouldn’t have changed a thing except for them to have never had that wreck. Be kind. Be professional. Be the best person you can be. JULY / AUGUST 2020
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We Live in Strange Times W
ell, I have to say that I struggled with a topic for this month's article. I know what you're thinking, how can the girl that never shuts up have nothing to say? I'm truly in a robot mode right now of just work, work and more work. I haven't really gone anywhere other than my usual work travel, and I haven't really seen anything humorous either, which is really weird because I usually see the humour in everything.
just silly and goofy acts. I've chosen to do the silly, goofy stuff because I feel like if it brings at least one person a smile, then my efforts are not lost. So based on this, I feel the purpose in my life right now is to get my job done, make someone smile, then sleep. Then do it all over again.
One thing that came up in my wellness group recently was a good question. It was, "What are you thankful for?" Much like last month's By Myrna Chartrand article in which I wrote about Myrna was born and things we look forward to, this raised in Oak Point, was another excellent question. Manitoba and was our Since I have more or less lived April 2019 Rig of the in my truck since March, I don't Month driver. really have much going on, therefore lots of time to sit and think, and unfortunately, in turn, I feel somewhat in a slump, which is lots of time to dwell on the negatives. probably based on the happenings in I honestly try not to, but sometimes it's the world right now. There is so much just easier, and hence, this is the slump I negativity, and quite honestly, it's get into from time to time. exhausting to see it, hear it, and read about it. If you really sit and think, there are so many things one can be thankful I've tried to keep my social media for, even if we are in troubling times. accounts to a positive note, and lately, As Andrew Gold put it in his song that I've taken up using the Tik Tok app. I the Golden Girls made popular, "Thank once thought it was only for teenieyou for being a friend, Travelled down a boppers and people that had too much road and back again, Your heart is true, time on their hands. I have become one You're a pal and a confidant," of those "too much time on their hands" people, which is strange because I don't Truer words have never been spoken! feel I really do have that much spare I have some of the most amazing time. I found that once I got started with friends and family. Even though we are it, it became quite addictive. For those separated by many miles, they always that aren't familiar with the app, it is one include me. Whether it be group chats, that revolves around music and voice plans for outings or daily check-ins, I clips. You can make your own videos know I can count on them. I can talk with your voice or lip sync to someone about virtually anything with them, and else's. You can do dances, tutorials, or if I have a down and out day, or feel out
of sorts, I know at least one ofthem, if not all, will turn my day around in minutes. The same is true if I have a great day or news to share. I can tell them, and they will share in my positivity. I am so thankful that I have the friends that I do! Another thing I'm incredibly thankful for right now is the fact that I have been able to work each and every day through this pandemic. I know sometimes it gets me down, but in reality, there are so many that were not so fortunate. Yes, the days are not like they used to be, and policies and procedures put into place have really put a damper on things, but I must be thankful that I still get to do what I love! I'm grateful for my health right now too, even though I'm certainly not in the best shape of my life unless you consider a potato a shape! I know I should be eating better and exercising, but honestly, I'm just tired. Mostly lazy if I'm going to be honest, but tired as well. I'm getting by, and that's just enough for me right now. I've been so wrapped up in work that I'm finding it hard to concentrate on anything else. I feel like as long as I get from Point A to Point B on time, then I'm ahead of the game. I know there is more to life than working, but my thoughts are that when most of the population goes back to work after the quarantine, then I'll take my time off!! This pandemic has changed all our lives, but hopefully, by the next issue, I will have come across some of those strange, entertaining, truck stop weirdos, that, for the first time, seem to be in hiding or quarantine. Be safe!
Be careful who you threaten: A pilot was sitting in his seat and pulled out a .38 revolver. He placed it on top of the instrument panel, and then asked the navigator, “Do you know what I use this for?” The navigator replied timidly, “No, what’s it for?” The pilot responded, “I use this on navigators who get me lost!” The navigator then proceeded to pull out a .45 automatic and place it on his chart table. The pilot asked, “What’s that for?” “To be honest sir,” the navigator replied, “I’ll know we’re lost before you will.” Pro-Trucker Driver’s Choice Magazine
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Double Trouble I
n the early 70’s I was hauling produce for Ken Williams, from Saskatoon, and Asphalt Services, who were also based in Saskatoon. The reefer loads were a lot different then, trailers didn’t have the insulation of today or split temperatures, and they only had spring suspensions. There were very few companies that hauled produce back then, so as a driver, you got to know your competitor. In the west, there was Lester Moznik from B.C., Bobby Smith from Weatherford, Texas, Figol from Edmonton, AB and Dean Rapeleye from San Bernardino, CA. The ones that I drove for hauled Peat Moss from Carrot River, Sask. to California and Arizona. We would pick up produce on the way back up with the reefer roaring, and a ton and a half of crushed ice spread over the top of the load. The produce was brought back to the Shelley Brothers warehouse for I.G.A. Foods. One trip a week, down and back. There were logbooks in the U.S.A. but not in Canada. Can you guess which part of the trip helped to balance the book? I learned a lot about long-distance hauling, the road culture, the people that you could trust and the ones that you have to read by what they show you, not what they tell you. I was held up (robbed) three times, so you might say I was a slow learner. The produce houses and loading docks are not built in the tourist part of the cities, so the truck stops do not attract upper-class citizens. I also learned that what you think you see is not always so. On one trip, I went down to Nogales AZ. and unloaded at a plant nursery and greenhouses. While I unloaded, I heard that the U.S.A. had just declared a fuel shortage and commercial trucks were
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By Glen Millard
Glen was born in Saskatchewan. He has driven trucks for 50 years, mostly long hauling. He’s now retired, that is until another adventure comes along.
only allowed to buy 50 gallons per state. Sometimes you would stop for fuel, and they (the pumps) would be out, so you had to wait for a fuel truck to arrive. This very thing happened to me on the Hopi Indian Reservation. It was a small drug store, convenience store and fuel stop. The people that owned the place were very nice and while I waited (2 or 3 hours) they told me about the area. The father was a Hopi Indian who was a pharmacist! He wore a fine suit, was well mannered, and spoke perfect English. The only indication that he was a traditional native was that his hair was in braids that hung down his back. After a couple of hours, the son, in his mid30’s said, “come stand over beside the counter and watch Dad.” His Dad had gone into the backroom of the store, and I asked what is going on. He said, “The tour bus is due to arrive, and Dad loves that.” In a few minutes, his Dad came out of the back, and I almost hit the floor. He had an old Navaho Indian blanket around himself from his ankles to his neck. He had bare feet, his hair braids were around his neck, over his shoulders and down his chest. He had a headband with one feather on it in the back, and he carried a sign. He walked right past us and went outside to sit on a bench in front of the store. He placed the sign beside him that read, “Pictures 50 Cents.” In a few minutes, the tour bus pulled up, and all the people got off. Most of the tourists went straight over to “the Indian.” When they spoke to him, he just grunted ugh, high ya, and other onesyllable words. Many people paid him and took his picture. He sat there for about thirty minutes before the bus left. Once they were gone, he got up and came into the store. As he went
to the back, he pulled the blanket off and threw his braids back behind him, saying, “It gets pretty hot under this blanket.” He had rolled his suit pant legs up to his knees, and I thought that was the funniest thing I’d seen in a long time. All the tourists were on the way back home, and they had a picture of a real live Indian sitting out in front of the store. Little did they know that he was the owner, a pharmacist, and an excellent person with a great sense of humour. I got my 50 gallons of fuel, thanked them for my education in tourism, and then said goodbye and headed for Canada. I hauled produce and peat moss for about a year, and I enjoyed the adventures, but I didn’t get home much. After that, the company said that I would have to run double because, apparently, the U.S. didn’t like the way I did my logbook. They also mentioned that the signs on the side of the road were not the minimum speed limit. The company that I worked for had lots of dump trucks and low bed drivers, so I ended up taking a different driver each trip. Unfortunately, most of them could not drive a rat out of an outhouse with a sharp stick. Out of all the people that I took down on a trip, there was only one guy that I liked. We got along well, he was a good driver, we always made good time, and he handled himself well. On one trip, we unloaded near Fresno, CA, then turned North to Lodi, CA. to load. Much like Vegas, what happens in Lodi, stays in Lodi and I’ve been sworn to secrecy. I can not divulge his name, even if guns are involved, and I am threatened with my life. We got there late in the afternoon, but we could not load because the paperwork was not ready, and some of the farmers had not delivered their JULY / AUGUST 2020
www.driverschoice.ca 29 produce yet. So we parked the truck at the shipper’s yard, and we left on foot to find a restaurant for supper. After a good meal, we were walking back to the truck when we met a young boy on the sidewalk coming toward us. My partner asked the boy, “What is there to do in Lodi?” The boy said there was a sock hop just a few blocks away. Our ears perked up, we thanked him, and we were soon on our way to check out the dance.
“Nobody wants to dance with me.” My partner quickly said, “I will,” and the two of them went into the hall.
Now, one of the rules of running double is, if you fall in love for overnight, you don’t bring anyone back to the truck, and whoever stayed in the truck does not move it until the other driver gets back.
I didn’t dance myself because I had just eaten a meal, and I didn’t see anyone wearing a gun belt and yelling, “dance stranger.” I left and walked back to the truck, climbed up in and went to bed. The next morning, bright and early, there was a knock at the door, and it was my partner climbing in. He said, “You should get up, we have to get this truck loaded. Don’t worry about me. I’ve already had breakfast.”
We found the dance hall, and as we walked through the parking lot, we came to a car with the windows up, engine running, and the only person that we saw was a lady behind the wheel. My partner tapped on the window and said she should be in the hall, not in the car with the windows up. She said,
I thought I’ll just listen to the band and relax for a while. My partner and the lady danced around the hall about three times, and then they disappeared. I stayed for an hour or two longer enjoying the music. The band wasn’t Creedence Clearwater Revival, but they were pretty good.
The remainder of the load had arrived just as we got there, so we got loaded, picked up the border papers and headed
out. As we headed back to Canada, he told me a story of the previous night that should have started with “Once upon a time.” I think the reason I didn’t believe some of it is that I don’t always believe what I am told about things like Santa Clause, the Tooth Fairy or that you can teach a pig to fly. A few months after that trip, the company said they wanted to buy a new truck and trailer. I could have the new one, and my young partner could run the one we went down with. Both trucks were to be run with double drivers. I nearly got a separated shoulder from high fiving that idea. (sarcasm) I met with the owners and explained that is not the life for me. I liked the company but not the idea of running double with a new, sometimes inexperienced partner. The company asked if I would be interested in a new job with the same company. That job was taking a truck across the frozen muskeg from Saskatoon to Cluff Lake. I accepted and was the first truck to go into Cluff Lake Uranium Mine by road. A trip that I wrote in our last issue.
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Manufacturing W
hile Scotland has been in lockdown with this terrible virus, I’ve had plenty of time for thinking. What percentage of the normal everyday things we use, wear, eat and drive, are made in the UK? Or whatever country you live in. I see quite a few comments from people saying when things get back to “normal,” they are going to be checking labels on the stuff they buy. To support their own economy, whether it be, UK, Canada or wherever, they’re going to buy goods grown or manufactured in their country. Well, good luck with that. When the new bridge that crosses the River Forth was being built, I was stunned to find out that most of the steel to build it would come from China, and the rest was coming from Poland and Spain. Why was it cheaper to buy in foreign steel than it was to source it from steel plants we have in the UK? Most have been closed down is the short answer to that, and the steel plants we have left are all owned by an Indian company, Tata steel. Another “whaaat?” moment came when I decided to watch one of my favourite programs on TV called Train Truckers, a UK based heavy haulage company. The boys were moving an old classic American steam engine. When it was winched up the low bed and secured, the narrator said, their next job is to pick up three new 140 mph engines shipped in from Japan. He said, Of course, Japan is famous for the bullet train, as the commentator was saying these words, I was shouting
at the screen, why are we buying trains from Japan! At one time, the UK, and Glasgow in particular, supplied the world with steam engines. They were made in Springburn and transported to the docks, usually at night when the electric tramcars had stopped running. This was so the power could be switched off to the overhead lines as they needed to be lifted up occasionally. They were taken down to the Finnieston 100ton crane where they were loaded onto ships for India, Canada, America or wherever. The building where these great engines were built is now a weekend market and car boot sale. Beardmore’s steelworks was a fiveminute walk from my house, a massive foundry and steel plate works covering 25 acres and employing 40,000 people, it’s long gone now. It closed in 1976 and was replaced by a huge shopping mall, named, appropriately? The Forge. So why did the government not invest in the technology to make better trains and give contracts to steelworks in the UK rather than letting that work go to other countries? Then I started to think about the clothes I was wearing, and again they were mostly all from India, Pakistan or some other part of Asia. Even my underwear, I like to buy my Y fronts from Marks and Spencer, a high-end store where the prices are just a wee bit
dearer, but my shorts feel good and last a long time. It’s one of those stores where you get the impression that everything you buy is top class, and therefore, it must be produced here in the UK. My shorts are shipped in from Bangladesh and Cambodia. As a boy growing up in the east end of Glasgow, I was surrounded by big factories weaving cloth or making stuff from the cloth that other factories were weaving.
By Colin Black Colin Black lives in Bellshill, Lanarkshire, Scotland and has been driving truck for over 40 years. His story shows us once again that the problems drivers face are universal.
The city of Dundee was the same; it was known for jute, jam and journalism. All the city centre Jute mills I used to deliver to and collect from as a young trucker are now converted into yuppie flats. We can maybe blame the politicians for the closure of the big factories, but should we, the buying public, take some of the blame for the home-grown clothing factories going to the wall. As the standard of living got better and better, did we develop a buy it cheap and throw it away culture? Our parents, on the other hand, made and repaired anything they could. All Mothers and Grannies knitted gloves, socks, jumpers, and my Father had his own cobblers to repair the soles of my boots and shoes. Times have certainly changed in my lifetime.
Fortune Teller: A man was wandering around a fairground and he happened to see a fortune teller’s tent. Thinking it would be good for a laugh; he went inside and sat down. “Ah.....” said the woman as she gazed into her crystal ball. “I see you are the father of two children.” “That’s what you think,” said the man scornfully. “I’m the father of three children.” The woman grinned and said, “That’s what you think…. JULY / AUGUST 2020
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HOWES is honoured to announce the first inductees into the Howes Hall Of Fame. Ellen Voie - Women In Trucking Founder and President. As the founder of the nonprofit organization in March of 2007, Voie currently serves as President/CEO. The Women In Trucking Association was formed to promote the employment of women in the trucking industry. Voie’s prior role was the Manager of Retention and Recruiting Programs at Schneider, Inc. From March of 2000 through January 2006, Voie served as the Executive Director of Trucker Buddy International, Inc., a pen pal program between professional drivers and elementary students. Under her guidance, the organization grew to become an internationally recognized mentoring initiative.
TONY JUSTICE - Full-time truck driver and country music star A truck driver of over 20 years, Tony is also an authentic musician who draws inspiration from the roads he travels and the people he meets. Born in Visalia, CA, he has become one of country music’s most talked-about independent artists. Tony has sold over 100,000 albums in the past 9 years, all while averaging 2,500 miles per week as a professional truck driver. “I’m the most blessed guy in the world. I get to live two childhood dreams,” Tony says. “I get to drive trucks and make music.” His passion and dedication to his two-lane career made him a perfect candidate for the Howes Hall of Fame. “It’s truly humbling,” Tony continues. “I’d like to thank Howes for welcoming me into the Hall of Fame. As a 100-year-old, family-owned American company, it’s a real honour to be recognized by them.”
The iconic Iowa 80 Truck Stop The World’s Largest Truckstop is located in Walcott, Iowa, has been serving truckers since 1964. It began as a single humble building, up and running before Interstate 80 was even completed. At the time, Iowa 80 founder Bill Moon, was responsible for finding land and building truck stops for Standard Oil. He located the spot for Iowa 80, and they built and opened it at what is now Exit 284 off Interstate 80. A year later, Bill took over management. As the years passed, hundreds and then thousands of truckers and travellers stopped by Iowa 80. In 1984, after nearly 20 years of managing the place, Bill and his wife Carolyn convinced Standard Oil (now Amoco) to sell them the land and buildings. These days, Iowa 80 is overseen by the second generation of the Moon Family. The Moon’s daughter, Delia Moon Meier, is the truck stop’s Senior Vice President. JULY / AUGUST 2020
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Like Ol’ Blue Eyes - I Did it My Way…
I
was way down in Texas delivering at Galveston docks when I phoned dispatch to see what was available for my return trip to Canada. They told me that I had a great load sitting in Dallas that would bring me all the way home so, I unloaded, had my bills signed, and headed out. I pulled in at this equipment dealer in Dallas, and the whole yard is full of wee little excavators. Looked like Tonka toys compared to the stuff I usually hauled but, if it pays, I’ll haul it, especially if it is going to get me home. I checked with the shipper and found out they had ten machines going to Canada. There were three to Toronto, two to Winnipeg, two to Calgary, one to Regina and two more to go to Edmonton. They wanted me to cross at the Detroit/Windsor, and while I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, I knew that since I lived in Barrie Ontario, Edmonton was not close to my home. I talked to the shipper about changing this to Coutts/ Sweetgrass, and he said, “I’ll have to talk to the broker. Meanwhile, how
do you want the load put on?” I had a step-deck, so I looked at the things and told them Toronto just behind the step the Winnipeg on the top of the deck, Calgary on the rear, Edmonton in front of Calgary and Regina behind Toronto. These little machines only weighed a little more than 2000 pounds each, so I had a nice little load and lots of room. Loaded the whole thing up no problem and chained it all down and then got on the phone to the broker, and after about an hour of talking to different people, finally convinced them that everyone would get their equipment on time and I would cross at Coutts. I pointed my rig north, unleashed all my ponies, and away we went. No problems all the way to the border, and after about an hour at the brokers, we finally got everything straight. I headed out finally pulling in that evening at the old Blackfoot Truck Stop, where I had one of Edna’s great meals and caught up on my sleep. I dropped off two “excavators” in Calgary, where they
By Dave Madill Dave Madill was Pro-Trucker Magazine’s Rig of the Month in June of 2001 and he has been entertaining us with his poetry ever since. Dave has published three books of poems that are available by special order through Chapters Book Stores.
said I was five days early, and I got the same reception in Edmonton later that day. I then took the Yellowhead and headed for Regina, who said I was four days early, and later that day got the same happy comments in Winnipeg. Now things got easy for my old rig, only 6000 pounds and we are away to the races. I had a minor breakdown in North Bay but only lost one day and pulled into the delivery yard in Toronto on precisely the day I was supposed to arrive. I unloaded their mini excavators and then headed up the 400 to home. Dad was shocked when I pulled in with an empty trailer, as it seems Mom had not told him I had changed things around, but he was quite happy when I handed him the bills. I’m sure I am not the only one who has unloaded in reverse, but it sure made better sense to me. After working out the mileage, I found it was even shorter doing it my way, so I made more money and still got the job done on time.
Home Tonight The house is finally quiet and the children are asleep in bed. Her old dog slowly wags his tail as she gently strokes his head She thinks back over her day and makes plans for her tomorrow. Wonders what it may bring, happiness or sorrow She waits for the phone to ring from her trucker on the road. Will he be coming home or will he pull another load The dog’s ears perk up suddenly as he heads for the door. Now his tail wags joyously as he bounds across the floor Now she also hears a noise, a sharp and rapping sound. The sound made by a Jake brake as a big old truck gears down Headlights flash across the house and pull up in the drive. Her heart is beating faster and her house has come alive Children tumble from their beds shouting, “Daddy’s home!”. The old dog barks excitedly like he’d just found a bone Now she is in his arms again and all her world is right. Stars twinkle in the heavens, the trucker’s home tonight. Pro-Trucker Driver’s Choice Magazine
JULY / AUGUST 2020
LOOKING FOR
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Company Drivers & Owner Operators
PREFERRED CARRIERS INC. A very busy flat and step deck carrier, running Canada to and from the U.S.A., are presently expanding the fleet in order to service our customers better.
LOCATED AT 80 DIAMOND AVENUE, SPRUCE GROVE, AB COMPANY DRIVERS: For late model Kenworth trucks. 10 Full-time Permanent Positions Available $26.50 Per Hour ($60,000 and $75,000 Annually, Based on Mileage Rate) Medical Benefits Provided Minimum of 1 Year of OTR Experience is Required Fluency in English Valid Passport and Willingness to Travel to the USA is Required Valid Class 1 Licence Passing Drug Test is Required
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The Birddawg M
y handle, nickname, moniker, appellation or epithet, your choice, is The Birddawg and has been for a very long time. I acquired it as a summer counsellor at a boy’s camp in magnificent Muskoka on beautiful Clearwater Lake. The kids thought Birddawg sort of rhymed with Murdoch, and I had a pretty good eye for our avian friends as I had been studying birds as a hobby since I was in school.
When I hit the road in the early ‘50s running between Manitoba and Southern Ontario, I was briefly called The Preacher since I had served two charges in the Great W h i t e North, one in Quebec and the other in Ontario as a very young man. Little did the church realize that I was then an agnostic and have since upgraded to atheist. I have no intention of debating the question - so please don’t ask it. Suffice it to say I have communications with elements in the universe, yes, really! Stop by, and we’ll talk about it sometime. Since the advent of the two-way radio, The Birddawg has been my signature. It came back into vogue, mostly because I had this uncanny ability to know where the speed traps where. Some truckers had illegal radar detectors that were often called bird dogs. I could often also tell whether the next coop was manned, open, closed for lunch, or completely vacant. Way back then, knowing all the ways to get around the scales came with the instructions from dispatch. However, it isn’t that easy today. There is a faint Pro-Trucker Driver’s Choice Magazine
memory of once leaving Toronto on the weekend with a 10,000 lb. overload and arriving in Vancouver three days later, not having crossed a single weigh scale! The alternate routes did, however, add an extra few miles to the journey. Elements from the universe, you say, that’s where intuition comes in LOL! On another occasion back in the ‘60s, when I was hauling an A-train with a GVW of 142,000 lb. I could legally haul a 50-ton load of steel on two 20foot trailers joined by pintle hook and tandem dolly. It was during a rail strike, and steel plants in Toronto were crying for product, so the loader asked if I could handle a bit more. “Of course,” I said, never being one to turn down a chance at making a few extra bills. The weigh scales at Algoma Steel in the Soo went up to 150,000 lb, so I had to weigh in sections, a total of 175,000 give or take an ounce or two. It was the heaviest load to ever leave Sault Ste. Marie. I made it to Sudbury with no interference, and at the truckstop in Whitefish, I met an old friend who drove a B-75 Mack that was all hopped up to go. I left first because he said I wouldn’t be able to keep up to him with that much weight. His tandem tractor & threeaxle wagon being just half as heavy as mine, but I was out of sight before the French River. When he got to the Boys TS south of Parry Sound, I was already sipping my first cup of coffee. We both had gone over the government scale at Parry Sound, but I knew the scale master personally as we had become friends when I used to cross years before at Niagara Falls with bananas from NYC. John came racing out of the scale house when he realized how heavy I was, told me to get the bleep outta there and not to tell anyone I had been over his scale. Of course, the story was too good not to be told and spread like wildfire amongst the
By Ed Murdoch
Ed has held a commercial drivers license for 65 years and has spent the better part of 50 years on the road. You can get Ed’s new book at www.drivingthroughmymemories.ca
brethren … LOL! The Birddawg is my byline for the magazine. It is also my alter ego on the radio broadcast I air weekly on CKVS-FM 93.7 Salmon Arm heard on your truck stereo from maybe Chase to Malakwa. It can, of course, be streamed from anywhere in the world. I’ve received emails from London, Paris, San Francisco and Tokyo. Just Google www.voiceoftheshuswap.ca and there it will be Saturday mornings at 9:00 a.m. and Tuesday afternoons at 4:00 p.m. and Thursday evenings at 10:00 p.m. as it has been for almost eight years. You may have read the book published in 2014, also entitled Driving Through My Memories, and The Birddawg is very much present in each mesmerizing chapter. If you haven’t as yet experienced the pleasure, get on it! The tome is available at least I know in the Okanagan Public Libraries, and although it has been sold out, copies may be available from this website: https://shuswappress. The wordpress.com/ed-murdoch/. publisher may decide to run some extra copies if the interest warrants it. During this pandemic I ought to have already begun my next book, which will be a compilation of local broadcasts, but a few medical issues have intervened. Enough about me! It is you guys and gals who deserve all the exposure and accolades for your courage in the risks you inadvertently are taking every day in a different jurisdiction or environment. Please do not take your safety for granted. Observe precaution like the rest of us pilgrims who are determined to survive this plague. Time flies, whether you are having fun or not! Make the best of it, play it safe, motor with care, and we’ll catch you in a coupla months… 10-4 from the Birddawg! JULY / AUGUST 2020
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Shack Hauling I
t’s 3 am Saturday morning, rain is beading down our windows as we, the crew of Bluenose Mountain Transport, sit and wait at the Port Melon barge terminal for our loads to come in - Two pieces of a double-wide mobile home, each 60’ long and 14’6”wide. We’ve been on the road six days now, hauling manufactured homes across British Columbia. Our week started hauling a doublewide, 16x66, to Savona Sunday night, with another four loads in between before this current home to Gibsons. We hauled this load from Winfield the night before and loaded at the terminal in Delta. From there, we drove to the ferries and caught the next outbound ship. We’ve spent most of the day at a hotel, so we can shower and catch up on some sleep. But sleep doesn’t come easy, and we find ourselves dozing mere hours before we have to leave for the barge. We see our load come sailing in, and it’s now 4:30 am, and our pilot truck lights glow before us as we roll out of Port Melon and on to our destination. We still have a 40-minute journey ahead of us, and the park we’re heading to won’t allow us in till after 8 am. Once we arrive, we’ll still have time to kill before we can unload and head back home to our families in the beautiful Okanagan. Our pilots, Reilly and Jesse, stop what little there is of the early morning traffic on highway 101, so Adam and Joe can use all lanes to swing the homes around the corner. Our third driver, Alan, although not driving on this trip, helps navigate our wide loads. We’ve travelled this route before and work together seamlessly without much talk on the radios. We’ve been working together for some time now and appreciate what each has to offer. From late-night hauls to early morning barge runs and
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spending countless hours stuck in the mud, our team knows how to have fun, and we enjoy spending this time together. Most of all, we just love “truckin.” Some of us are 2nd and 3rd generation truckers, and the others on our team have fallen in love with it. It’s not always a joy though. We’ve travelled the Coq in some of the worst conditions, and see firsthand the crews of highway thru hell and can’t help but wonder when our time for skidding off the road will come. It’s never easy being a trucker, people ride your butt or honk at you because you can’t do 120 going up a hill. Often though, it’s our pilot guys who take a lot of the flack. They’re stopping traffic or tasked with getting people to slow down. Although most are nice about it, you always get those people who just don’t listen or understand the point of what our pilots are doing. “Shack haulers” as we’re called in the industry, are not your average truck driver, it takes a special breed to haul these large loads. No job is the same, and it’s a different challenge each haul. Sometimes we’re over 18’ wide and 31M long, travelling up the tightest roads with trees hanging so low, our boys have to hold them back so that we can get through.
Off-road hauling is not something we look forward to, especially after a rainy week. Everything turns to mud, and the weight of the house causes us to sink. Our pilots always carry boards, and usually that’s our saving grace, but occasionally a call to a heavy-duty tow truck will do the trick when all else fails. It’s just after 8 am now and we can finally unload our pieces. We use specialized equipment and blocking to lift the houses off our trailers and make sure each half is level. Once that’s done, we clean up and do second checks to make sure each blocking is secure and stable. By now, we usually have a crowd of people watching mere feet away, and today is no exception. It’s now 9:30 am, It’s been a long week, and we’re excited to get home to our wives, kids and girlfriends. As we pull out of the park, bursting with pride knowing our bluenose team has delivered another home, driver Adam yells over the radio, “let’s take’er wide, boys!” -Bluenose Mountain Transport.
Jellyfish have survived 650 million years, despite not having a brain. This fact gives hope to so many politicians.
Left to Right: Adam, Jesse, Reilly, Alan and Joe JULY / AUGUST 2020
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Send resume to jstewart@wattstewart.com JULY / AUGUST 2020
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INDEX ASL Global Logistics ........................................................................................ 38
TRUCKING SERVICES
Berry & Smith ..................................................................................................... 29 Centurion Trucking Inc. ......................................................................... 08
B & W insurance ............................................................................. 02 & 06
Challenger Motor Freight ........................................................................... 03
Blue Capital Equipment Finance ................................................... 32
Golden Express Trucking Inc. ............................................................... 46
Cool Heat Truck Parts .......................................................................... 30
Jagged Edge Enterprises Ltd. ..................................................................... 31
Cool-It Highway Services .................................................................. 45
Key West Express Ltd. .................................................................................... 27 Kindersley Transport .................................................................................... 48 Light Speed Logistics Inc. ........................................................................... 21 New Malwa Express ....................................................................................... 37 North Coast Trucking Ltd. ........................................................................... 04 Preferred Carriers Inc. ................................................................................... 39
Diamond Insurance ............................................................................ 09 First Truck Centre ............................................................................. 22 Gold Key Insurance ......................................................................... 23 Howes Lubricator ......................................................................... 34 & 35 Mobalign Services Inc. ......................................................................... 09 Norris & Co. ............................................................................................... 15 Ocean Trailer ......................................................................................... 16
Select Classic Carriers ..................................................................................... 05
Pacific Inland Powertrain .................................................................... 41
Shadow Group of Companies ............................................................ 24 & 25
Silver Creek Travel Centre....................................................................13
Shergill Transport Ltd. ................................................................................. 17
The Safety Gurus ....................................................................................19
Transam Carriers Inc. .................................................................................... 14
Top Line Truck Parts ........................................................................... 20
Watt & Stewart Trucking Inc. ........................................................................ 43
Truck West Collision .............................................................................. 41
33
42
ALL IN A DAY’S WORK
MANUFACTURING
SHACK HAULING
26
36
18
Colin Black
Adam, Jesse, Reilly, Alan and Joe
Scott Casey
WE LIVE IN STRANGE TIMES Myrna Chartrand
LIKE OL’ BLUE EYES - I DID IT MY WAY…
10
Dave Madill
28
40
DOUBLE TROUBLE
Ed Murdoch
Glen Millard
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THE BIRDDAWG
RIG OF THE MONTH
John Maywood
JULY / AUGUST 2020
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Hiring Class 1A Drivers to join our Open Dispatch Fleet. We have a recently upgraded fleet and terminals across North America to support you along the way. Contact us at driver.recruitment@kindersleytransport.com or 1.888.878.9585
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