All around the Rothsay Minnesota Truck Stop and Restaurant, the black Suburban with the snow plow attachment on the front ran frantically, plowing paths in and around the parking lot and entrance, trying to make it easy for cars and trucks to come and go. Each pass with the plow was soon obliterated by the stubborn storm and its relentless snow and winds. The day grew brighter with the rising sun, but the storm continued. The Qualcomm bird chirped, and the message indicated that my delivery appointment for that day (Friday) had been rescheduled for 4am Monday. The Rothsay Truck Stop and Restaurant would be my home for the weekend.

Hunkered down in the small truck stop, I had to wait out the storm and its aftermath. The bitter winds of Argo blew hard and found their way into the cab of the truck through every crack and hole possible. I had to idle the truck fairly frequently out of fear that the cold temperatures would drain the battery. The truck rocked with each gust and gale and the snow flakes pounded against the windows. I finally made my way inside the truck stop and discovered it to be a little gem. It was not your typical big-chain truck stop with predictable layout and prices, but this was mom and pop, small business America in all its beauty. Showers were only $5 and 24 hour little restaurant had the comfortable feel of someone's kitchen table. Being on tight budget, and normally avoiding such perks, I eventually rewarded myself for during the storm and being grounded for three days by having a shower, and going to the restaurant and having a hot bowl of tomato soup.

Saturday dawned clear and cold. The winds that rocked and howled for the past 24 hours gradually subsided. In the rear view mirror, I could see that something was different than my normal view. This Trailer had a set of “trailer tails” which consist of several metal flaps attached to the rear doors to help the wind to mold itself around the rear of the trailer while the truck is moving, thus saving fuel. This particular trailer had a configuration of trailer tails that I hadn't seen before. Normally, the tails are manually deployed just before leaving, and then manually folded up against the doors for when the truck and trailer are not moving. This particular tail could only be folded up when the doors were opened. Otherwise, the tails remained in the deployed position all the time. Looking in the mirror down the side of the trailer, I could see part of the trailer tail protruding from the rear of the trailer. I got out to check, and discovered that the wind gusts had been so strong as to rip the left trailer tail completely from its bottom anchors, leaving it to flap wind. When I reported the damage to mechanical support, they said to just keep going.

It looked like the weather and road conditions for Sunday would be good enough so that I could go ahead and drive the next 100 miles to St. Cloud, MN, the final destination. I looked at congregations there in St Cloud and found one where the timing would work for me to finally attend church. The only problem being that the church was located about six miles from where I could park. I decided that I could walk that for and got up early and drove to St. Cloud, and finally got parked at about 10:30 am. I changed quickly and began the two hour walk. After I'd gone about a mile, I began to think about the truck parked back at the truck stop. I'd be gone for quite a while, would it be safe for that long? I was, after all, responsible for the truck and its load. Yes, as I reviewed things in my head, everything was locked safely, and then I remembered that I had forgotten to bring the security key with me, an important company requirement whenever leaving company equipment. If I walked back to the truck and got the key, I'd never make it to church on time, so I was left with only one option, and that was to go back and spend the rest of Sunday in the truck.

The delivery appointment at 4am Monday morning went smoothly, and I drove about 12 miles to a rest area where I could safely park, and wait for instructions. No sooner had I parked that the dispatch came: Go to New Ulm, MN, and pick up a load of cheese containers and deliver them to Gooding, Idaho. The sun was shining, the roads were clear, and it felt good to finally be moving again. I enjoyed the couple of hour drive to New Ulm. The company instructions to the shipper's location took me all the way through town to a small town called Searle, where I was to turn right onto Main Street. I followed the instructions exactly but things didn't look right. I was met immediately by a 'no truck' sign on Main Street. Luckily, there was a small parking lot where I could turn around, and I pulled in there and called the shipper to clarify the instructions. She was a confused as I was about why the directions took me clear out there. She explained that I needed to turn around and come back into town to their address in town.

Everything went exactly as she told me until I neared 3^rd Street. My hand-written notes from the conversation were unclear. Did she say turn Right or Left at 3^rdStreet. If she said turn left, I'd have a problem because there were 'no trucks allowed' signs. To be safe, I pulled over to call her and verify. I didn't want to end up where I shouldn't be. The street was a peaceful tree-lined street and I pulled to the side, and checked my rear view mirror. The trailer still wasn't far enough off the road to be safe, so watching in the mirror I kept easing forward till the trailer was safely off the street. Once the call was finished, and I had my directions clarified, I turned on my signal and began to ease out onto the street. A sudden scratching and jarring noise arose and I stopped and got out to see what was wrong. While looking in the mirror, to be sure I had gotten far enough off from the road for traffic, I had crossed under a heavy branch of a tree lining the street. To my horror, the thick limb had caused significant damage to the cab of the truck. Part of the rear of the cab was smashed, and the upper window in the sleeper lay shattered on my bed. At first glance, it looked like they may have to come and tow the truck to get it moved. My goal to never cause a scratch to my truck was gone. My next thought was that my job could now be in jeopardy. I called my driver manager, and left a message that I had been in an accident. He called back and told me to send in a report to Mechanical services, and also to call the Claims Dept. The gal who took my claim was very kind and understanding. Next, I e-mailed photos of the gruesome damage to everyone, including Mechanical Services. When I spoke to the guy, kind of chuckled and said, “Okay, see that cab extender that's been damaged?” “Yes,” was my quiet reply.

“Get up there, and take it down.”

“Once I get it down, I can go?”

“Yes, you're good to go. Just watch out for tree branches.”

With his simple solution, the immediate crisis was over. I went into my tool box, and found a screw driver that I had curiously purchased for one dollar at the dollar store, and it was just the exact right size to fit the screws that held the damaged panel in place. In about 15 minutes, I had the panel removed, and suddenly, the truck was free, and I could continue on to the shipper, which I did.

But the troubles weren't finished. My manager called and we discussed the accident. When I told him again the details, we discussed what I had done wrong, and then he gave me the speech, which I'm sure he's had to give other new drivers about being aware of my surroundings. He explained that the company basically has a three strikes and your out policy. The math was very simple in my head: Two more, and there goes my job. And there you have one of the fears of my new job, which I battle every time I start to drive. There's a risk for accident to my left, to my right, above me, below me, unpredictable drivers, poorly marked roads leaving little time to react, tight intersections, tight backing at shippers and truck stops, you basically have to be 100% good 100% of the time, because that 1% waiting to cause an accident is always right there beside you, waiting for its opportunity.

With my load on board, and having been duly chastised, and feeling that a failure loomed, ready to sink this truck driving venture that invested so much money and opportunity cost to pursue, and from which I really had no viable Plan B if it were to fail, I pushed in the yellow knob to release the brakes and headed out of town.

My initial plan was to get to my next scheduled fuel stop, Sioux City, South Dakota, but the further I traveled, I could see that I was going to run out of clock hours so I began to watch for a truck stop or rest stop where I could pull in for the night and finally found a small truck stop about 85 miles from the South Dakota border and parked for the night. It was dark when I parked, and the sunny skies from earlier in the day had given way to winds, clouds, and now a cold freezing rain. I checked the weather forecast for my route in the morning: Snow. If there's any peril that scares me it is slick and icy roads. It was snow covered, slick, and icy roads that welcomed me to Minnesota, and it looked like they would be what bid me farewell in the morning. The weight of the sense of failure, and the fear of the gathering storm grew heavy in my chest. I had to talk to someone, and so I called my wife to tell her of my accident. She immediately understood all the possible consequences.

I climbed into bed, but sleep did not come easily. The dark sense of failure at my foolishness in my decision to become a truck driver, the ease at which the accident had happened, in spite of all my efforts to be careful, and the foreboding of the storm and driving conditions that awaited me in the morning all combined together and felt like an anvil on my chest, a dark, heavy anvil.

I replayed the sequence of events that led to the accident again and again in my mind, and the things I should have done which could have so easily prevented it. Somehow, amid the wash of emotions and thoughts, the darkest of nights finally gave way to sleep.

Early the next morning, I awoke and headed out, and a miracle happened. My prayers were answered so neatly, as Bruce and I made out way southward, the bands of snow were either ahead of us, behind us, or to the left, and we drove on wet, but not icy roads all the way to Sioux Falls, where we were welcomed to South Dakota.

With part of Bruce's cab missing, and the trailer tails flapping in the wind behind us like broken wings, we finally limped across the border. The beautiful farms, the nice people, and the lakes, all make Minnesota an attractive place. But for some reason, this one time, I couldn't wait to finally depart Minnesota, and leave its trials and miseries behind.