After the load was unloaded, I crossed the bridge over the mighty Mississippi and stopped at a Truck stop in Memphis. Bruce and I were welcomed to Memphis by thunder and lightening, and then it began to rain. The rain was heavy and relentless. The rain would come in a downpour, and then become a steady drizzle just long enough for the clouds to reload, and then the next deluge would hit again. The waves of rain continued regularly throughout the night. I asked someone from the area if it rains a lot in Memphis. He said that it certainly does.

The storm not withstanding, I realized one thing right away: I was no longer in the snow belt. I had to quickly lose about three layers of clothing, and all but one layer of warm bedding. Outside, the temperatures were in the 60's. Finally, the next trip plan came over the computer. Interestingly, the next trip was picking up a load where we had dropped our inbound load just a few hours earlier, at the exact same warehouse. Our next load assignment was to new load to Lebanon, Tennessee, which is just a few miles east of Nashville. The loading process for our outbound trailer was slow, and we weren't loaded till nearly eight hours later. To arrive at Lebanon by 6AM, I had to be on the road by about 2Am, so off into the stormy night we went.

I love the south! Our route on I-40 took us over the massive Mississippi and directly past the stunning skyline of Memphis at night. On the other side of the city, the interstate was less busy and through fog, rain, and inadequate headlights, I could see that we had entered hill country. The trees alongside the road grew tall and thick. I wished I could be making the drive during daylight hours and see the beauty of the hills of Tennessee.

There was a long line of trucks waiting to enter the warehouse facility where I was to unload. One by one, drivers would pull forward to the guard shack, get out of the truck, and stand there at the window fo the guard shack doing all the paperwork in order to be let inside. The process seemed to be taking an unusually long time. Finally, it was my turn, and I got out of the cab with my paperwork and walked up to the window to the guard shack. “Smoker 52” the lady at the counter said into a CB microphone. Probably in her mid sixties, she was slow and meticulous. In the pre-dawn darkness, she held up a magnifying to the paperwork so that she could see it more clearly. Information had to be written down and transferred from one form to another.

When she addressed me, I immediately fell in love with her accent. What was it...? Not quite southern, not really Hillbilly, but her kind, pleasant, and warm demeanor matched the accent perfectly. Sweet and friendly are how I would describe her. I didn't mind one bit. I wished I could have stayed and chatted with her.  She assigned me door 37.  As I was leaving, I heard her key the CB radio mike and announce in her down-home accent: "Smoker 37".  Well, at least now I knew what that meant.

At the warehouse, I discovered a very challenging Backing situation. I was to back into door 37 but there were already trucks backed up to the two joining docks at 36 and 38. To make matters more challenging. The area to maneuver for backing was very small, which essentially made each backing maneuver an 'alley dock', basically a 90 degree angle back into the open dock. For me, personally, this a very challenging backing situation, one part science, one part art, and one part experience. I have none of any of those. One reason I find these backing situations difficult is because in these warehouses with tight backing space, while one truck is backing into a dock, all other traffic comes to a halt, and everyone stops and waits for the truck to complete the backing maneuver. So, not only is the pressure on to back into a very tight space without hitting anything else, one must also do so quickly, while all the other drivers are waiting, watching, evaluating, criticizing, and then no doubt complaining when you start taking too long. When I am in a difficult situation and feeling rushed by others, the pressure mounts dramatically. It's just the way my mind works.

My first attempt started out well, but the trailer was too close to the truck nearest to me. I decided to abort the attempt with literally only about two inches of space between the two trailers. Next attempt I pulled further ahead and started backing. One of the things that makes such backing difficult is that once the trailer has begun to pivot, it is nearly impossible to see how much clearance you have on the right-hand side, or the “blind side” of the truck. As the rear of the trailer entered into the space between the two trucks, things looked okay on my side, but I couldn't see the clearance on the blind side. So, I exited the truck, and walked back to the rear of the truck to take a look.

I asked the guy who was sitting in dock 36 if he wouldn't mind to watch my blind side and let me know if I was getting too close to his truck. I recognized him from the shipper I had just come from. He had also been loading there. He was extremely kind, and very helpful to me. Older than me, and obviously very experienced, he was only too happy to help. His assistance is one of those moments in my trucking career that I will never forget.

As soon as I was backed up, the next truck in line pulled up and was attempting to back into a slot near me in exactly the same conditions. Since I had been the recipient of such kindly assistance, I felt to return the favor. I jumped out and asked the driver if I could be of help. She was a new driver like me, about my age, from Idaho Falls, Idaho, and she had a load of potatoes. She said that these types of backing situations always made her nervous, and that she wasn't very good at them. I assured her that I felt the same way. I'm afraid I'm probably didn't render nearly as helpful assistance as that of the kind gentleman was who assisted me, but soon, she had her truck backed up to her dock. By now, the sun had begun to light the sky, and with the new day, and the stress of tight backing maneuvers completed, things were good.

As I sift through the events of the last few days, I am reminded that certain angels have unawares helped in my undertaking of this career change. While he only stood at the rear of the trailer and motioned me to continue backing, something in his kind and gentle manner are what I recall. He will never know that I will never forget him.  He was a true gentleman. He will never know that I will never forget him. I never asked his name. As a professional driver with years of experience, he's probably forgotten about the whole thing already. So I've decided that I never know when I may by chance---completely unaware---be an angel for someone. As I sit here in the cab of my truck writing this entry. A brand new, shiny red Volvo backed up into the space next to me. The driver was a little lady, gray hair, couldn't have weighed 100 pounds. Since most trucks are all the same length, when you are backed up next to each other, it's easy to look out your window and see the driver next to you. As she shut off her truck and glanced my way, I smiled and waved. Her face lit up and she smiled and waved back to me. Once she walked around to my side of the truck, I asked her how she liked being a truck driver. She said that she loved it. After a while, she rolled the windows down and blasted blues music and started to do a little dance. She was having a good time. Whether my smile and wave had anything to do in prompting her truck stop dance, I don't know. I doubt it. But dear reader, please smile at someone today. They may not even smile back. I have missed countless opportunities when I felt that I should have smiled, said a kind word, stopped and let a car into my lane in front of me. I'll try to do better. Will you join me? You wouldn't want to miss a chance to be an angel; would you? 

The next load plan came right away. We were to headed further south into Dixie by taking our empty trailer down to Atlanta, Georgia, and pick up a load of groceries, and we are now headed back to northern Indiana with our load.

For three days, I've been reading the constant stream of notices on the computer about bad road conditions and drivers on hold throughout California, Oregon, Idaho and Washington. Some drivers had been sitting there for three days waiting out the storm. In my mind, I could picture the driving snow, the ice built up on the windshield, the cold temperatures inside the cab. I looked out the cab of my truck. People were wearing shorts. I have the windows down to stay cool, and I just took a walk---in a T-shirt.