Ed Time

The United States operates in four time zones....Pacific, Mountain, Central and Eastern. Most of you are familiar with these.

I live in the Ed Zone.

For those of you not familiar with this time zone, it encompasses a very small area that covers an extremely large area. The Ed Time Zone is contained solely within the frame of this truck. Although it's only within the steel casing of the truck cab, it affects and interacts with nearly every other time zone we happen to be in.

As a rule of thumb, the Ed Time Zone supercedes any other time zone that is in effect. When one is operating on Ed Time, anything can happen. Most likely though, it will happen later than you expect.

When visiting friends or family, I tell them, in "Ed Time", when I expect to be there. For instance, if I tell my friend Vicki to expect me at 2pm, once I do the calculation and run the route through the Ed-o-meter, I can quickly calculate that, on Ed Time, we will be there at approximately 10 pm - possibly even the next day.

If Ed is to wake up at 4am, again doing a quick calculation, I know that I will see his bright blue eyes peek over towards me at 6am. If he wants to nap and tells me, "I only need a 30 minute nap" I know that, on Ed Time, that means he'll be sleeping about 3-4 hours.

Since my internal clock runs hours, even days ahead of Ed Time, I am often left frustrated and confused by the calculations I have to make to actually GET somewhere. I am a stickler for being early, which is impossible on Ed Time.

Some days are better than others. When I take charge of the clock, we usually run a tighter ship. But since the captain of the vessel is on Ed Time, I am often at his mercy.

For instance, I am visiting my best friend today. I was supposed to be there yesterday, but since I'm on Ed Time, I will be arriving approximately 12 hours later than my original stated arrival time. She is very quick to catch on though - whenever I tell her when I expect to be somewhere, she asks "Is that on Ed Time?".

I'm guess I'm lucky to have a boyfriend who has his very own time zone. If he weren't so handsome and easygoing, I probably wouldn't let him get away with it.

Well, I guess I should wrap this up. My boyfriend just said we should be out of here in about 10 minutes.

In Ed Time, that means I have at least another 40 minutes. I think I'll catch a quick nap.

The Original Goldfish

I have severe short term memory loss. I don't know when it happened or really how long I've had it. I remember things vividly that happened years ago, even in my childhood, but things that JUST happened? BLANK. I think I need to go a 12 step program or something. But of course, I'd probably forget the steps once I got past the fifth one and would have to start all over again.

Ed says I'm like a goldfish. I can swim around in my fishbowl, and as I come upon the decorative castle/plant combo, I would look at it and say "Oooh! Look at that. How pretty." Then five minutes later, be swimming around some more, come across the castle/plant combo again and say "Oooh! Look at that. How pretty. Is that new?"

Sometimes, in conversation, I will say to him "You never told me that" and he'll respond with "Well, it was probably over 7 days ago, so you forgot." Seven days??? Sometimes I forget something after 7 minutes.

My friend Vicki, God bless her patience, will listen to anything I have to say even if she's already heard it 15 times. Although, she does often say, "Man oh man, you don't remember anything, do you??"

I don't know why my memory fails me. Maybe I don't eat enough fish - my mother always said it was brain food. Although, I don't think it's a brain thing - I am smart and function quite well, I guess I just don't retain information I know I can get somewhere else if needed. Why clog my brain with minutia?

Ugh, I have been so sidetracked and distracted this weekend, I can't even finish this post. My mind is wandering as I write. Maybe I'll add more on this topic at a later date.

What was I saying anyway??

Texas Pride?

I don't get it....seriously, I don't. What is the DEAL with people who have this bigger than life, Texas Pride??

I have been almost all over the United States and I have to say, I don't see where the pride for Texas comes in. Is it the sheer mass of land that the state occupies? Because if that's it, you people can HAVE it.

I've been to smaller states....one of the smallest, in fact - Rhode Island. This state, in it's teeny tiny scrap of land, offers more bang for the emotional buck in my opinion.

So you got a whole lotta land - and what do you have to show for it? Let's see...

West Texas is a WASTELAND...can't believe anyone would even LIVE there.

Northern Texas has what, Wichita Falls and Amarillo? Which, if you recall, smells like cow shit.

Southern Texas has Corpus Christi and Brownsville....I can think of better places to see the Gulf of Mexico.

Eastern Texas has Texarkana....which gets it's name from a combination of Texas and Arkansas - who thought up THAT brilliant combination? Two crap states does not one good one make.

The Alamo? What's to remember?

And the Big D? They have the Reunion Tower - yeah, the 50 ft. big ball structure that was built for a World Fair? And the Dallas Cowboys? Please. The only good thing about Dallas is DFW airport, which gives you a break from flying on most cross country flights.

And the heat. OH. MY. GOD. The heat.

Did I say OH. MY. GOD. the heat?

I could never live here. EVER. Which is good, cause they'd probably run me out anyway.

Then again, that might not be so bad.

Not By The Hair Of My Chinny, Chin, Chin!!

At what age does one start growing chin hair?? I am appalled that all of a sudden...well, over the past few years...my chin hair has multiplied. What I used to be able to pluck with 3 flicks of a wrist now takes me a half hour.

Where does it come from? Am I turning into a man? Is my Italian heritage finally catching up with me? Am I doomed to be a bearded old lady? Someone help!

I cannot spend so much time plucking, nor can I sport a beard. Yes, I can have it waxed....but as you ladies out there know, you have to let it GROW before you can wax it. Which means I have to have at least an 1/8" of beard growth before they can rip them out of their little folicles.

Well, I would write more but I have to get back to plucking....I have half a goatee left to get rid of!

The Essence of Me

I was recently having a conversation with my friend Vicki and asking her to help me come up with a name for a website I want to start. I want to have a personal website that I can write about things that are happening while I’m on the road or just in my life in general.

I want a name that describes me. That embodies the essence of me. A name, that if someone read it, would just let them know it could be no one other than me. After kicking around a few ideas, she comes up with “dcice”.

We were on instant messenger, and this is how the conversation went:

S: I just can’t think of anything. Don’t you have any ideas??
V: dcice
S: What??
V: diet coke w. ice
S: dcwi?
V: ok
S: that is all you can come up with to describe me??? What if I were missing and you had to tell the police about me?
V: I am laughing out LOUD!!!
S: what if you had to write my funeral announcement???
V: I have tears in my face…lol
S: you’d say…”my best friend of 30 years can be summed up in 4 words…diet coke with ice. All of you who know her will know what I mean. Thank you for coming. Have some punch on your way out.”
V: I can’t even type…lol
S: and just for the record….BEST FRIEND…..it’s diet coke with LEMON. LEMON!!!!

So there you have it. My “essence” has been summed up as a carbonated beverage with a twist of citrus.

Yo! Yo! Yo!

Is she just a hip hop chick or what? Mina is just the best! She wanted to wear a bandana like her brother, so she went to Vicki and asked for an "ambana". Vicki laughed and told her it was a "bandana". So then she said ok, but she still wanted an "bambana" like her brother. Once it was on her head, she turned to Vicki and said with all seriousness, just to make SURE she got it right..."Mommy, is it an AMBANA or a BAMBANA??" On this little beauty, who CARES what it's called!

Great Expectations

I will be the first to admit that my expectations for most everything are too great. Not unrealistic, just too great.

Tonight I had an unpleasant experience at a service plaza with a clearly annoyed "assistant manager" as indicated by her nametag. She made no eye contact, stood with one hand on her hip and spoke in an irritated, curt manner. Her body language expressed that she was not happy to be there and she just wanted to get the transaction over quickly.

We placed our order, got our ticket number and stepped aside to wait. I commented to Ed on how I thought she was a bitch and had a bad attitude. He reponded with his usual shrug of the shoulders and babbled some "excuse" for her. He sat down with his food as I stood by the side of the counter waiting for mine. I watched her wait on the people who were standing in line behind me, displaying the same attitude and treating each one with the same apathy.

I was finally handed my sandwich from another employee and went to join Ed at the table. When I sat down, I said to him "Man, she had a shitty attitude." There was a woman and man sitting next to me and he overheard me, turning to his wife to repeat what I said. I looked up at them and when they looked at me, I said "right?". They heartily agreed and we discussed her poor attitude, her body language and the tone in which she spoke to everyone. I said "I think I'm going to go up there and tell her."

After sitting there a few minutes, steaming about the fact that she was just getting away with acting that way, and sitting next to LOCALS who came here for dinner, I decided I was going to say something to her. Ed said "Go ahead - it will make you feel better. When I got to the counter, she was on a personal phone call. She did not acknowledge my presence, kept her head down, kept talking and even turned her back to finish her conversation. I had to put my hands between my thighs and the counter to keep them from reaching over to press the button on the phone to hang up on her...or throttle her...I was having a hard time deciding, but I thought it best to keep my hands crushed up against the counter.

When she got off the phone, she looked at me in her half lidded, bored manner and said in a clipped tone, "What can I get for you?"

I said "Well...you're the assistant manager here, right? I just wanted to tell you that I don't think you have a very good attitude. Your body language, your demeanor and your manner of speech are very rude. Even the people at the table sitting next to me mentioned it. I know it's late and you probably want to go home. Believe me, I know the feeling. My family owned a restaurant and I know what it's like. You may not realize that you are acting this way, but I would rather come up here and say something than leave this place and say "Boy, that girl was a bitch." I think you should know and try to be more aware of how you are coming across." I spoke quietly, calmly and was not in earshot of other employees or customers.

WELL. She stood there with a look in her eyes that said "Shit! I was just caught being rude." but she said "I'm sorry" and I said "Well, I just wanted you to know." and she said "Thank you" and that was that.

I walked back to the table feeling good about doing what I wanted and I've decided that from this point forward, I'm going to do that more often. I wish I had done that last night at the movies with the people that talked through THE. ENTIRE. MOVIE. If I did, I still wouldn't be annoyed about it today....but that's another blog entry. Look for it in the future.

I feel that we all let these incidents go and they become more abundant. These people are in the CUSTOMER SERVICE industry. They need to be professional and serve their customers. I don't want to hear excuses like "they don't make enough money", "they are not educated", "they might have had a bad day", "maybe they don't like their job".

Bullshit. I have had ENOUGH of the excuses. Do your job. Do it well. Or do something ELSE.

Just make sure it's not in customer service.....

Herding the Blogger Sheep

After a week of saying "What a stupid name - blog" and "Who is going to read that?" and "Why would anyone write about stuff like this?" and "I'll read it when I get a chance".......

Guess what my best friend Vicki did? She started her own BLOG!! Yup. I know!

I was teasing her that she was a sheep.....just following the 'ol herd. Of course, she didn't like that, but I had to put it in the "computer related things" context only. Because she is NOT a follower in any other area of life....for anything.

It all started with getting her into the 21st century by her finally getting an email address. Then, she started with the digital camera...omg, she's a monster!! Crazy, I say. I think she had it surgically attached to her hip so it's always at the ready. Kind of like a holster for a six shooter. She's always ready for a good photo op. And believe me, her talent is UN-real!!

Now she's onto the blog. I still think she cringes a bit when the word "blog" comes out of her mouth (don't we all?) yet, she loves it. And as she said on her blog, if it weren't for our Verizon Wireless minutes, we'd both be looking for a job just to pay the phone bill.

Now that she's part of the herd, it is her job to recruit others. And she is doing quite well, I must say. She's already roped in a fresh one. She told me today that her friend Deanna wants to start one too. I say, "DO it!". It's a blast. It's a great hobby. And it's a great way to stay connected.

I've decided that once my herd gets big enough, I'm going to buy a staff. Maybe I'll even consider becoming a Sherpa. Wait...that means I'll have to move to Nepal and hike the Himalayas. Ew, strike that thought. Who the hell wants to HIKE??

Midnight Snack

Do many people consider stopping a picnic table on the side of an interstate, in the middle of the night, in the DARK to have a bite to eat?? Ed and I thought about it, but didn't want to be hauled off to the clink for eating in a picnic area after sunset. There are laws for a reason, you know!

The Heat is On

Oh. My. God.

It started yesterday when the already on-the-blink air conditioning finally died. I have gotten my first taste of heat on the road. Today is worse though. Although we have purchased all the items to get the air working again, we have a load to deliver so we cannot stop to fix it. Yet. We are driving with the windows open to get some air in this beast. As if an 18 wheeler isn't noisy enough - try driving with the windows open. It's like being in an airplane with no doors.

Anyone who knows me is fully aware of how I become cranky when the temperature rises above 68 degrees. I may even become verbally abusive if I get hot enough. New friends, boyfriends, employers....are all forewarned. Ed and I seem to be temperature compatible...meaning that he is ok with whatever I want. As it should be. He doesn't mind the heat, being from Texas and all. And he's very accomodating with the A/C for me.

I have only gotten a taste of what the summer is going to be like out here. My ass is already sweaty in these jeans - looks like I'll be the only trucker chick in a skirt. Gotta keep the breeze blowing around up there.

At least I don't have to work in an office with people who have varying temperature preferences. And I don't have to argue with them about how they can put on a sweater if they are cold but I can't take anything off if I'm hot. What IS it with people who set their A/C to 72 degrees and think that's cool??? At 72, you might as well stand outside because it's STILL not cool, people.

Oooh! I see rain up ahead. There is hope.

Sticks and Stones

Sticks and Stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me.

Wop. Nigger. Whitey. Spic. Kike. Gook. Wetback. Ginny. Jew. Camel Jockey. Chink. Beaner. Coon. Cracker. Polack. Kraut.

Not a stick or stone in the bunch – just names. Hurt much? What a shame it is to waste breath and thoughts and paper and time on those hateful monikers.

Racism is a learned behavior, not an inborn one. It is our job to teach our children how NOT to think this way and try to educate people who do.

Crash. See this movie. It is thought provoking, sad, funny, and all too real – more for some of us than others.

If only we could all wear an impenetrable cloak, like the little girl in the movie. Maybe it would protect us from all kinds of hurt.

We are all the same, all connected and all of one race.

The Human Race.

Fangboner

Just passed a road in Ohio called "Fangboner Road".
Was this road named after someone???
Huh Huh....he said fangboner. Huh Huh.

Mother Lode

Webster's Defines this as:
1. the principal vein or lode of a region
2. a principal source or supply

How true is this of our own mother? They often are our principal source or supply of almost everything we are. They were our life source and they supplied us with many of the qualities that live and breathe within us today.

My own has:

• taught me how to love by being loving herself
• encouraged my learning by answering my incessant questions from birth...all of which increased my knowledge
• taught me manners and how to treat people
• gave me morals (some of which I corrupted!) but all of which gave me a solid base
• supplied, at times, more criticism than I wanted to hear but most of which I am still trying to learn from
• showed me courage by displaying it herself in difficult and everyday situations
• allowed me to experience joy by always making sure our home was full of it
• taught me not to fear even when she was afraid herself
• let me "go" and "see" while being there if I needed to come back
• supports everything I do and encourages me every day with words of love and praise
• loves me unconditionally
  

These are just a FEW of the wonderful ways of my mother. I am sure you can all create a list of your own with the things that are important to you. Of course, not everything a mother does is always peachy and lovey dovey. Often times, you want to muffle their words with a well placed sock. But today is not the day to rant on about that (there will be other days for that, I'm sure!).

Today is the day to feel blessed that we have them. To honor them for all they've done. To let them know we love them. To show them we care and we understand how difficult their job is. To let them know we appreciate their sacrifices. To acknowledge their commitment to us.

We should do this everyday, not just on Mother's Day. Since we don't always remember to this, let's use today to make sure our words are heard....and spend the rest of the year trying to back them up.

Today we will once again, remind our mothers that we will always be their babies.

I love you Mommy.

The Day The Blog Began

Today I started my first weblog.

As I looked at the clock, I realized that today is my cousin David's birthday. Well, actually, his name is Seven now. He changed it years ago because his favorite number is seven. Like his birthday, the 7th of May. I haven't talked to him in over 10 years but I think about him often. I wonder what he's doing and what he looks like.

The last I heard, he was living in California and working in the entertainment industry. I don't know what exactly he does, but the last thing I knew of was of him being a segment producer on "The Bachelor" and "My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance". I used to watch "The Bachelor" and always scanned the credits for his name, being so excited when I would see "Seven" scroll by. Just Seven...no last name. I even saw him once on TV. Well actually, I heard him before I saw him. His voice sounds exactly as it did when he was a kid...and then I saw him. He was delivering flowers to one of the "lucky" bachelorettes, who in just a few weeks was going to be going home heartbroken because the loser didn't pick her.

But David, as I will always refer to him, looked so good to me. I will always remember David and his square jaw, gorgeous skin, mile long eyelashes, great smile, infectious laugh and beautiful soul.

Seven must really BE his lucky number.

My Story

Hair coiffed and perfume spritzed? Check.
Manicure done and toes polished? Check.
Eyeliner straight and lip gloss shining? Check.
Flip-flops and matching purse ready to go? Check.
Silver hoop earrings in place? Check.
Cleavage gently heaving? Check Check.

Give or take a few items (but never the lip gloss), this is my daily checklist. It’s what I do to get ready for my work day. For some of you, this may be run of the mill. For others, it may be over the top. For me, it’s my oxygen. My atypical girlie checklist makes me an anomaly in my industry, because where I make my living takes place behind the wheel of a big rig.

Let me share a quick statistic with you: According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, there are over three million truck drivers in the United States. 4.5 percent of them are women.

I am one of those women.

And this is what I drive:

In addition to my personally imposed checklist, I am required by the Department of Transportation, adhering to a federal standard, to conduct a real pre-trip inspection. Before heading out on the road, I have to check fluid levels, belts, hoses, tire pressure, brakes, air pressure, lights, exhaust system, trailer integrity, etc. I have to make sure everything is in excellent working order before taking to the highway.

In my blog, The Daily Rant, I have documented my lifestyle by keeping a daily account of where I’ve been, what I do and what I think. The latter can range from my praise of all things Dunkin' to my biggest pet peeve, poor customer service. That’s where the rant part comes in.

I have written more than 1,500 blog posts, with over 800 of them including photographs. I have traveled in 49 U.S. states (I've also been to Hawaii, but obviously not in the truck!) and 11 of the 13 Canadian Provinces & Territories. I have been to every major city in America, most of the major cities in Canada and countless small towns in-between. I have traversed the peaks of the American and Canadian Rockies, had my feet in both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, driven the ALCAN Highway to Alaska and snorkeled in the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. I have seen the majestic beauty of the Siskiyou Mountains in the Northwest and the indigo haze of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Southeast.

I knew before I even hit the road that I would love to drive, but my boyfriend Ed (of my blog's "Eddie Friday" posts) suggested I join him as a passenger first, since life on the road is not for everyone. He wanted to make sure I liked it before I spent the money and time to go to school for my license. So he gave me a job being his load dispatcher/secretary/bookkeeper/Girl Friday and I stayed out on the road with him for two years before I went to school to get my very own CDL (commercial driver’s license). I’ve had my CDL for over three years and now we drive as a team.

We are on the road over 300 days of the year, driving over 150,000 miles during that time and covering the United States and Canada extensively. I’ve learned a lot from Ed as he shares his knowledge and experience of over thirteen years and 1,500,000 miles behind the wheel. I know I have many years to go before I hit the million mile mark but by the time I get there, I’ll be an old pro with all the tips and tricks he’s passed on to me!

Upon hearing how many hours a day we drive, one of the first things most people seem to want to know is, “How can you sit for that long??” Valid question, I suppose, but what they don’t realize is that in this job, I get up and move more than I did at the desk job I had the year before I went on the road. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy the sitting around part, as I am the Queen of doing nothing; which the size of my ass confirms every time I buy a new pair of Capri pants.

In case you’re wondering, and even if you’re not, being a truck driver is not responsible for my generous proportions. I’ve always been what my grandfather would call “a big girl”. That said, I would not be seen out in public wearing big 'ol prairie skirts and baggy clothing ala Kirstie Alley in her pre-Jenny Craig days. I assure you I have not fallen into the sweat pants and wrinkled t-shirt trap you see a lot of the women out here dressed in, and I most certainly do not subscribe to the “I’ll never see these people again, who cares what I’m wearing” philosophy.

From those previously mentioned manicures and pedicures to the lip gloss and trademark silver hoops, I have maintained every aspect of my femininity, and the best compliment I can ever receive after telling someone what I do for a living, is for them to say “You don’t look like a truck driver.”

For those of you wondering what I do look like, here is a little collage representing several versions of me on the road (and no, there are not any that depict the actual size of my ass, but you can see a full length picture of me here and I won’t even make you read through all of my archives to find it!):In this job, the stops are so numerous, I often feel as if I’m on a tour of all the bathrooms and bookstores in North America. We stop so many times for me to take a pee break, I fear Ed is going to make me start wearing a diaper just so we can get some work done. We generally stop (and get out of the truck) for breakfast, lunch and dinner, in addition to taking breaks for a frosty beverage, a hot latte or an afternoon in Barnes and Noble. I've even been known to be persuaded (and by that, I mean dragged kicking and screaming) to go on a walk with Ed. I have been to malls in every state and several Canadian Provinces, including the largest mall in the United States; the Mall of America in Minneapolis, MN and the largest mall in North America; the West Edmonton Mall in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.

The type of freight we haul varies daily and we never know what we’re going to get. Some days it’s lumber, steel and pipe; other days it might be military equipment for our troops at home and abroad. More specifically, some of the items we have hauled are: nuclear submarine parts, spy plane components, million dollar jet engines (one was worth $4.7 million dollars and went up to Cold Lake, Alberta, Canada for their Maple Flag 40 exercise), radioactive medical machinery, steel plating for armoring military vehicles and the actual armored vehicles, gardening supplies such as mulch and peat moss, commercial air conditioning units (to Newfoundland, Canada of all places!), auto parts out of Detroit, assembly line equipment for an evaporated milk factory, submarines from Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, satellite components for NASA, shipping containers filled with various items (like thousands of pencils from China), mobile office units, accessories for military housing in Alaska, aluminum fabricating machinery, equipment to measure underwater earthquakes, construction equipment like Bobcats and scissor lifts, fencing for the Mexican border, and provisions for major disaster relief efforts like Hurricane Katrina and the Minneapolis bridge collapse. We’ve even hauled live honey bees used to pollinate our crops, from California to Florida!

I’ve done a lot of jobs in my life, from my first one bussing and waiting tables in my family restaurant, to managing a movie theater, being an operator for the deaf, working at a four star resort, masquerading as an "admin assistant" in an office, making people beautiful selling Estee Lauder cosmetics and hawking Sabrett's from my very own hot dog cart; but driving a truck has been by far the best job I’ve ever had, for a variety of reasons.

The very first thing that struck me about this job was the absolute freedom of it. I don’t punch a time clock, I don’t have to be at a job on any specific day at any specific time for any specific set of hours. That’s not to say I don’t have a responsibilities to be somewhere, but from the time I leave the shipper to the time I arrive at the receiver is up to me, as is the in-between time. I sleep when I want, drive when I want, eat when I want, dawdle for as long as I want and do pretty much everything else on my very own schedule. No one looking over my shoulder or breathing down my neck. Although, I do sometimes feel Ed’s eye wandering in my direction now and again, but the freedom of being self-employed is like nothing I’ve ever known. I’ve always worked for someone else and had to play by their rules, which is so not my style.

The second noticeable difference from any other job I’ve held, is the money. As self-employed owner-operators, we make more in one month than I used to make in one year. And it’s not even hard. At first, I was shocked it was even possible, but now I challenge myself to find loads that will maximize our revenue and minimize our work. I will load our trailer from end to end, using every inch of it, to get the most pay for the least amount of effort. It’s sort of like that old Marine Corps adage, “Work smarter, not harder.”

I mention the money to illustrate how this profession provides more than just the freedom of an unstructured work day. There are many reasons to choose a particular career, but in this one, the money isn’t the only goal for me. It’s not about the money itself but what the money represents, which is far more valuable to me. And what I value at this point in my life is time; the more money I make, the more time I have. And with that time comes my third and perhaps favorite reason for loving this job. The travel.

Even after being on the road for five years, I am still amazed at how much this country has to offer. The people, although the same in their humanness, vary widely in their personalities, characteristics and even appearance based on where you are in the country. It’s amazing to me when I can look at someone and say, “You look like you’re from Minnesota,” and not only be close, but sometimes, right on the money.

Being a native New Yorker, my accent, although not strong, is very recognizable in many of the places I travel. I stand out like a sore thumb in the South, but I get just as many people from other areas of the country asking me where I’m from. I love seeing how and where people live. I enjoy talking to the locals and many times, have exchanged e-mail addresses or phone numbers with people I meet on the road. Ed doesn’t understand it, but I’ve had complete strangers hand me their telephone numbers and say, “You must call me next time you’re in the area!”

I most enjoy traveling the rural roads, which we don’t do very often as it’s not as expedient or as safe as the interstates, but there are so many gorgeous little places off the beaten path that sometimes I resort to begging so Ed will acquiesce. In these places, I’ve found sights that range from the smallest church in America and the largest cow in the country, to the ice cream capital of the world.

Instead of just talking about places I want to go, I visit them. I don't have to save money for an annual vacation, put in my request to get the time off and keep my fingers crossed hoping that no one else in my office asked for the same block of time. I go where I want, when I want. I don't have to wonder what the people of North Dakota are like, I get to meet them. And when I'm itching to get a little grease on my fingers because I'm yearning for the taste of a real Philly Cheese steak sandwich, I can go to Pat’s.

Instead of watching the History Channel to experience historical sites, I am able to immerse myself in them. I’ve walked the halls of George Washington’s Mount Vernon Estate on the Potomac River, seen the faces of our Presidents carved into Mount Rushmore, strolled in the garden of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s home perched on the banks of New York's Hudson River, stood on the grounds of countless military forts, and wandered the streets of numerous Civil War cities; and as with most of the places I go, I take pictures.

Here is a sampling:You can see all of the pictures I have taken by delving into my blog archives, or you can see a collection of my favorites on my Flickr site. Just click here.

This job is more to me than just supporting the infrastructure of a nation; that’s the bigger part of what I do. I’m a small cog in the wheel of getting goods delivered. The American Trucking Association has a slogan: Good Stuff. Trucks Brings It. I am one of those three million drivers that bring the good stuff. And that makes me proud.

It’s that pride that makes me thrilled to talk about what I do, and this post has allowed me to do just that. If you read my blog, you will gain some insight into the days when Ed is making me laugh or driving me crazy, when I want to strangle the cashier in Target or how I’m plotting to disable the sun because I can't stand the heat it projects, but for the most part, the good outweighs the bad and I hope that comes across in this post.

I thank Michelle for allowing me to share my world with some of the people in hers. Reading her blog and many of the ones she’s turned me on to has opened my eyes to the world of people living their dreams. Whether it be in the hills of Calabria or the cab of an 18-wheeler, I think the best thing you can do is pursue the things that make you feel alive and give you joy. Be open to new adventures, mingle with different people, date someone who isn’t your type, try a new food, and listen as Michelle has said in one of her posts, to your core.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you have to be all woo-woo and Zen-like, but it is important to balance the have-to’s with the want-to’s.

** This post was originally written on August 15, 2008 when Michelle of Bleeding Espresso.com asked me to be a guest blogger. Some dates have been updated since it was written. You can see the original version on her site by clicking here.