Driver's Blogbook

Nope, Not Getting Older

2009-02-11T16:49:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone on the road!
My stars and garters, it's been just this side of forever since I posted.
You haven't forgotten totally about poor ol' Nadine, now, have you? (Shut up, Miles. I mean that figuratively. I'm NOT old.)
Well, we've been kinda busy, like the rest of you. Tonnage has been mighty slow and a long time coming. (No, I won't go there. Mighty tempting, to compare that last sentence to Miles, but let's keep it clean.)
You can go up on one of the fancy sites that shows tonnage all around the US and it looks like the previous election all over again - everything's slid to red, with just a little blue here and there.
But we truckers are made of sterner stuff, and that just means we'll hang on and be here when the truck's full and the coffee cup's empty.
'Til then, you just remember Nadine and Miles are out here, an' we're rootin' for you. America has got to have its trucks to keep going. And that means YOU are more than just necessary.
Chin up, kids.
with love from
Nadine

To Go or Not to Go, That IS The Question

2007-09-21T14:59:00.001-07:00

Howdy guys and gals - hope life on the highway has been good to you this summer. I have some thoughts for Lea, who wanted to know what she should do - she wants to go with her husband on the road, but he wants her to stay home.
This can be a real pickle. Does he want her to stay home because he's afraid she'll be so unhappy on the road that she'll leave him? The life out here on the highway isn't just an extended vacation. It's a lot of hard work, sometimes dangerous work, and you can't just quit and go home when you get really, really tired.
Or is he a loner, who cherishes his time by himself on the road and wants to keep it that way?
Could be he hauls HazMat, and doesn't want to expose her to the health and even life-threatening dangers of everything from toxic spillage to deadly fumes to terrorists?
Lea, are you making part or most of the family living, and if so, can you afford to quit and just depend on what your husband makes as a trucker?
Do you want to be a Right Seatcover, like me, and not have your CDL, but help with the pushin' and tuggin' and pad-wrap and stowin' gear an' general clean-up at every delivery?
Are there still any kids around the homestead?
Finally, sweetie, have you just plain right-out asked him WHY he doesn't want you along?
Men are funny critters. Most of them want their wives along - but it's for the companionship, the extra pair of hands (that don't have to be paid, generally), the bunk snuggle at night and the sandwiches and sodas while the truck keeps movin'.
Miles wouldn't know what to do without me along. Most of the time he complains he doesn't know what to do WITH me along, either, but I just ignore him. Or hide his teeth.
Best of luck with yours - and his - final answer. Even Nadine (that's me!) doesn't have an easy answer for this one.
Let me know how things turn out, okay?
In the meantime, you kids out there on the road remember to slow down a little when you can and catch some of the beautiful autumn foliage that's coming up soon. Maybe you can't stop the truck long enough to smell the roses, but you can see a lot from eleven feet up while you're still movin'.
Safe roads and great loads, all!
Yours most sincerely,
Nadine

Updates and more

2007-05-08T19:44:00.000-07:00

Oh my ... now I have to learn a new way of blogging. Kinda like the new Hours of Service rules, I guess. Most folks don't understand those, either.
But you guys and gals keep on drivin', and Nadine will figure out how to keep on postin', okay?

Miles Discovers Computers

2006-10-02T21:30:00.000-07:00

Hello, all you four-laners out there (notice I said four-LANERS, not wheelers!). Hope your loads have been heavy and your hearts light. Got a real nice comment from Randy Cortez here a while back ... he really does have a way with words. I'll have to ask if I can quote some of his poetry for you someday. Now, don't go looking like that - his style of poetry isn't that fancy-schmancy stuff you hated in school. His poetry has hair on its chest.
Speakin' of poetry and words an' such, for some reason, Miles took it into his head to get a computer for our 'home stretch' (that's what we call it) this year.
Guess that means no vacation, but I really didn't want to go to the Bahamas anyway. I have so many wrinkles now that my suntan always turns out striped. (Although I will say, for an ol' gal of 108, I don't look too bad. Maybe I should send Mark Willis a photo of me as a Bathing Beauty. I hope his wife isn't the jealous type.)
Anyway, this is gonna be fun, watchin' Miles struggle with a desktop PC. He's always had me do most of the laptop stuff, so he has no real idea what's around the corner for him. It's not going to be a simple Sunday drive; more like a blind-side back. But at least it'll keep him busy and learnin' something new. That's the important part.
I'll keep you-all posted on what's happenin' around the home front, an' you write back an' keep me filled in on the gear jammers and CB yammers.
You should be pulled over for the night now, so I'll just tuck you in like your Mama would, an' say, "Nite-nite!" Don't forget your PTI in the mornin', fill out your logbook neatly and have a doughnut an' cup of coffee for Nadine.

Just Park It!

2006-09-30T21:09:00.000-07:00

This is gonna be fast an' furious, Knights of the Road and Ladies - Nadine is stayin' home for a while, an' so is her favorite old coot, Miles.
Never can tell what we might be up to, so you just keep on truckin' out there, an' I'll let you know what's up, pussycat!
Hugs from Nadine - you-all be good, now!

Five Cats and a Tale

2006-08-11T16:08:00.000-07:00

Hello guys and gals on the road and stuck in the driveway – hope life’s being good to you. Well, here it is, time for school to start again, an’ before you know it, Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas just past the next stoplight. Where does the time go?
Speaking of time, Miles an’ me are getting’ too old to be out on the road in all kinds of weather, so we’re gonna take a little vay-cation later on this year, during the worst of the winter ice and snow.
Don’t know yet exactly what we want to do. It’ll have to be something inexpensive (you can spell that ‘cheap’) so most likely we’ll just be at home. But that’s good too. Although we may have the doubtful pleasure of having Flora Fora an’ her cats come and stay with us for a spell. She’s a doll, but them five cats ! Although they can act pretty cute, let me tell you.
Last time she was here, we had her park her lil’ RV (‘The Cathouse’) in the driveway an’ come on into the house to get comfortable. We’d had dinner real late an’ turned in; must’ve been nine or nine-thirty, an’ let me tell you, that’s LATE when you’re over a hundred. So anyway, the house was quiet an’ all of a sudden, I hear this little ‘flip-flip’ noise. I thought, well, guess one of the kitties is playin’ so I didn’t pay too much attention to it. Figured one of them was getting’ some exercise, you know, after bein’ cooped up in that RV for weeks on end. I must’ve dozed off for a while.
When I woke up, I heard it again: ‘flip,flip. flip, flip. flip, flip.’ What in the world? First I looked to see that Miles hadn’t got his nightcap tassel under his nose again, an’ blowin’ it in an’ out like a teakettle. Nope. That wasn’t it.
So I got up, an’ eased the bedroom door open. Three of the cats was sittin’ turned toward the hall, with their backs to me, so I slipped up behind them and looked to see what they was all watchin’.
The other two cats were each battin’ something up and down the hall with their front paws, an’ whatever the two things was, they was makin’ that ‘flip flip’ noise I’d been hearin.’ So I leaned over the other cats an’ got a good look – I’d thought to put my glasses on, y’see – an’ sure enough, they was havin’ a race between the two of them, to see who could get Miles’ teeth batted to the end of the hall first.
Now don’t you go an’ tell Miles about this. The way he complained about the coffee tasting fuzzy the next mornin’ was plumb awful.
All righty, truckers, you stay safe on your journey now, an’ if you get a chance, drop me a line this winter. I get lonesome with just Miles to talk to – he turns off his hearing aid an’ ignores me ever time there’s a football game on.
Big hugs from Nadine!

Happy Deflated - not Belated - Birthday

2006-08-04T10:34:00.000-07:00

Well, sometimes the best-laid plans of mice and women ... guess you-all want to know why I haven't posted another entry in the last few days. Been kinda busy - well, let me just tell you about it.
All you nice folks on the road know that yours truly, that's me, Nadine Wheeler, am the President of the Mark Willis Fan Club. He's on Sirius Road Dog Trucking Radio, an' if you haven't heard him, well, you must be driving in the Gobi Desert or something.
But anyway, Mark's birthday was August 2nd, an' I had a great idea for celebrating it. Miles had actually gotten a pick-up in Dallas - believe it or not - and it wasn't too far from the radio studio where Mark, that silver-tongued chick magnet, works five days a week. So we pulled over last Monday night in Coppell, Texas, at a parking lot beside one of those huge chain stores which lets us truckers park there. (Thanks again to that store's manager - super store! Super manager!) An' after Miles was snorin' away, I went in and out of that store, buying balloons and helium. I stayed up all night and just filled our entire trailer with balloons of all colors for Mark for his birthday the next day.
Tuesday morning, we're up bright an' early and runnin' east on 635, going towards the exit for Miles' load pick-up an' the radio show building- when I look in the truck's mirror on my side an' see two or three balloons pop out and float away behind us.
Oh, my stars. I couldn't let Miles know what was goin' on, him being so jealous an' so on ... and I had to just sit there an' watch as all of Mark's Happy Birthday balloons got away. Guess at 108 years old, I just didn't have the strength to latch that back door on the trailer like I used to. Oh me. Poor Mark. I'm sorrier than a hound dog trapped at a skunk convention.
Happy Deflated Birthday, Markey. I'll try to do better next year.
You guys and gals stay safe on the road now.
Hugs from Nadine.

Hi from the Highway

2006-08-01T21:07:00.000-07:00

Hi everybody,
Just wanted to let you know I'm thinkin' about each and every one of you out there on the roads and pulled over in the parking lots and docks of America. Keep on truckin', kids - don't forget, everything that's in the stores, in folks' homes, or in their cars - a truck brought it. An' there aren't any robots able to drive a truck, at least, not yet. So everything someone wears, eats, sits or sleeps on, even the food they feed their cats and dogs and goldfish - was brought by a trucker behind the wheel of his or her rig.
I know how hard a life it is out there; I've lived it, sweetie. An' my hat's off to you! I'd like to buy you all a cup of coffee - or have you set down at my kitchen table, push the cat out of the way, an' have a cup with me.
God bless and keep you safe.
Remember, Nadine cares about you - an' worries about you, too.
Drive safe now.

Standing in your pj's at the truck stop

2006-07-31T21:31:00.000-07:00

Hi there, guys and gals,
Well, listenin' to some four-wheelers at the truck stop cash register the other day got me started thinking. Guess the first time it really hit me that I was livin' in a different world was late one night when Miles had gone an' crawled out of the truck and huffed off to the truck stop cafe' to get some coffee or something. I was gettin' ready for bed an' I realized I was inside the truck, in the middle of a huge parking lot filled with truck drivers an' other trucks, and wearin' only my pajamas. My poor grandmother would've swooned at the thought, even though of course I had the curtains pulled an' the cab doors locked. You just don't realize that the truck really becomes your home until you're on the road so much, you feel funny walking into four walls that don't jiggle around a lot. (Unless of course you live in California.)
With that in mind, I'll remind everyone to finish their log book and turn in for the night. And remember to honk when you see Miles and me on the road. You might even honk if you happen to see Flora Fora. Bless her heart. She's having kind of a rough time of it, her and the five cats. Seems a poor misguided mouse got into her little RV the other day, and the cats just went crazy. The little RV was rocking back and forth and jumping up and down, and leaning first one way and then the other until Flora thought for sure they were all going to be capsized like that pitiful little fishing boat in "A Perfect Storm." The cats was screechin' somethin' awful, an' clawing and scratchin' at each other, all tryin' to get that one mouse, when all of a sudden there's a terrible pounding on the door. (She told me all this on the phone, poor thing, when she could quit shaking hard enough to push them lil' bitty buttons.) Said the pounding nearly scared her to death; she was sure her heart quit beating for a few minutes. Finally she said she got a breath gulped in an' she hollers, "Who's there?" An' this big voice says, "State Police! Open this door!"
So she shakes her way over to the door, dodging scrambling cats all the way, 'cause of course now they're all runnin' to get under the bed because they're scared of whoever that is at the door.
An' she opens the door. A trooper's standin' there, and he glares at poor Flora Fora in her little housecoat an' says, "What's the meanin' of all this ruckus in here?"
Flora nearly fainted, she told me, he looked so mad. "Why, officer," she finally managed to whisper, "I never thought my little Cat House would be such a bother to everyone. I'm really sorry." That's the name of her RV, you see. She's got a little sign with that painted on it, just hangin' by the front door, where the doorbell is.
She did say the trooper was really nice an' even apologized to her after he'd gone under the bed and drug ever' one of them cats out, hissin' and scratchin' and cussin' in cat. I couldn't help thinkin' she was lucky she didn't say something really dumb, like Mrs. Slocum used to say on "Are You Being Served?" Poor Flora. An' the worst yet - when she went to get her breakfast the next morning, that mouse jumped out of the cupboard at her, an' the whole commotion started again.
Well, night-night, everyone. Safe roads and well-payin' loads.
A big good-night kiss from yours truly,
Nadine

Out of line but back just fine

2006-07-30T11:21:00.000-07:00

Howdy, everybody,
My stars and garters, it's been halfway to forever since I wrote all of you. I do truly apologize. Miles and me have been trundlin' around the country like we had lost our senses (don't answer that, truckers) an' just haven't stopped for long. But now we've got kinda breathin' room, an' we're gonna park it for a while, so I'll be postin' regular like.
Hugs and a big kiss to everyone - don't forget, I'm still the president of the Mark Willis Fan Club. I allll-most got to meet him at MATS this year, doggone it. I had a perfect plan worked out. I was going to hide under a table skirting at one of the booths close to the Sirius Radio area at the show. An' then when Mark was on the air, I figured I could just jump out an' run up an' hug him around the neck and give him a big smooch.
So there I was, scrunched up under the table skirt (won't say which booth - I don't want to get them in trouble - but you know who you were, folks - thanks again from Nadine), well hidden from Miles - you know how jealous he is of anyone I happen to get a little crush on - an' ...
wouldn't you know it?!??! The ol' trucker hisself comes and STANDS there by the Sirius table the entire time Mark was on the air. Oh me. I could've cried. To be so close an' not able to actually meet him. Thought my heart was gonna break.
Well, after Miles finally moved on to another spot, I crawled out from under the table an' just went back to the truck, feelin' sadder than a mashed cricket. Maybe the next show.
But enough about me. You guys and gals out there behind the wheel, remember Nadine's always cheerin' for ya! Keep your chin up - this fuel crunch can't last forever. Our farmers will grow enough ethanol and our greasy spoons will provide enough biodiesel that we'll keep this whole country truckin' !
Safe trip now.
Love, Nadine

The Golden Age of Trucking

2005-02-22T15:59:00.000-08:00

Well, what will they think of next? You know how, when you’re out on the road, you see a whole bunch of places that you want to get back to someday? You can’t stop right then because you’re on a deadline, or there’s weather coming in, or whatever, but you write it down on your list that you keep and get back to it eventually.

I’ve just seen something that’s going to be one of my favorite places! It’s “The Golden Age of Trucking Museum,” up in Middlebury, Connecticut. Big green and white highway signs in the halls to direct you – Miles really perked up when he saw those. Now he’s gonna want some in the house, I can tell. (I should put up one that says ‘Turn Here for Sweatsocks Heaven’ but I won’t.) Oh, they’ve got some gorgeous old trucks there – a 1922 Mack AC, and a 1929 Diamond T 550 – how about that 1955 International RF-405, West Coaster – what a beauty – and I liked the 1917 Republic Model 10 too. Bet it was hard to steer, though, like trying to get Miles past the display of swimsuit magazines when they get put on the news stands every year.

Wish I could just live there. Although Miles, darn him, said, “Well, why not? If there’s anyone who oughta be in a museum, that’s you - The Oldest Right Seat Cover in the World!” I threw a dish at his head, but he ducked at just the right minute – he’s had too much practice over the years. It left a dent in the cab support for the windshield but the dish didn’t break.

Hope everybody’s holidays were good. Miles and I were home for December and January – that’s why you haven’t heard from me in quite a while. Florafora – just call her ‘Flora’ - my sister-in-law, came by in her new, small RV, her and her five cats. Guess she’s less of a danger out on the road in one of them things than behind the windshield of a four-wheeler – but I wonder. The good thing about it is that you can see her coming a little further off. And the neighbors don’t stare as much when she drives up in this, not that I minded the neighbors staring. But her vintage 1970 VW bus painted like Peter Max’s nightmares did tend to stand out a bit. Actually, her bus put the old school bus the Muppets drove in one of their movies to shame, now that I think of it. But she got tired of everybody calling her ‘Grandma Hippie’ so she traded it in.

Well, by golly, I’ll be writing to all of you a lot more often now – guess what my ol’ coot went an’ got me for Valentine’s Day – my own laptop, that’s what! I couldn’t believe it. Miles got all red when I tried to kiss him an’ he jumped out of the truck – durn his hide – but wasn’t that really just too sweet of him? He claimed it’s because he got tired of trying to pry my hands off the computer so he could use it.

I never told you about the cab-overs we’ve had during our long career, have I? Talk about bone-jolters! If there was a pothole within fifty feet of one of the tires, any of those cab-overs would hone in on it like a hound after a rabbit. I had my feet up on the old Freightliner’s dashboard once, paintin’ my toenails, an’ Miles never said a word – just hit one of those potholes smack dab in the middle. Now, I’m not sayin’ anything about Freightliners – they’re good trucks, an’ we’ve had a couple. But I sure never want to have a cab-over again. That bottle of polish launched itself towards the ceiling and turned three somersaults before it came down. And during each of those somersaults, of course it spilled out about a gallon of red nail polish each turn. Miles couldn’t stop laughing. I had red nail polish all over my nice new once-white pedal pushers, and my socks and sandals were glued to the floormat with polish.

I pulled a good one on him, though, to pay him back. I waited until he was going into a Scales an’ had to take his permit book in. He climbed out of the truck, an’ after he went inside the little office, I stuck my head out of my window and screamed like I was being murdered. Then I jumped up into the little bitty bunk behind the seat and covered myself up with a quilt.

Three inspectors came running out of the building, and of course all they found was what – to them – looked like a big puddle of bright red blood on the right side of the cab – and no poor, helpless woman in sight! Well, they were gonna call the State Police an’ they grabbed hold of Miles to keep him until the Troopers got there. I finally couldn’t take not laughing anymore an’ flung off the quilt an’ hopped down out of the cab. Their jaws dropped about a foot apiece, an’ they realized there hadn’t been a murder take place in their parking lot. But Miles coulda killed me for real right then and there. And in front of all those witnesses, too. Tsk tsk tsk.

Well, I must take off for now. I’ll make you Knights and Ladies of the Road a promise - that I’ll write more often. I didn’t keep up with my ‘Blogbook’ like I should have last year, an’ I’m gonna do better this year. Keep on listening to the new-fangled satellite radio, an’ everybody stay safe now. Remember Miles and Nadine are somewhere out on the roads with you – so watch your manners an’ honk when you see us!

Mr. Manners

2004-11-29T15:10:00.000-08:00

Hello drivers and seat covers, and how’s the blacktop road treating you?
It’s almost time for the snow to start causing problems everywhere, so remember that Miles and I worry about you out there … if those flakes are comin’ in faster than they do at a family reunion (your in-laws are ‘flakes’ – get it?) then please think about pulling over a little early for the night. Miles always says it takes less time in the long run to pull over and wait for the snowplows to clear the highway than to put on chains and hope you make it. I know, I know, you got deadlines to meet – just don’t make it a real ‘dead’ line, ok?
Well, Thanksgiving is already past. What’s happened to the calendar lately? Several other people I’ve talked to want to know where are August and September; let alone the rest of last summer. I think maybe the world really has started spinnin’ faster an’ we’re just now realizing it.
Now I’m gonna fuss at you some more. You know how I admire good-lookin’ hairy-chested truckers who have clean shirts and good manners on and look like they deserve to be called ‘Knights of the Road.’ I was outside the cab holdin’ the hose nozzle for Miles the other day at a truck stop (won’t say where) and I noticed another trucker at the next fuel island.
We got to talkin’ for a little bit, and then Miles came grumbling back from the fuel desk (nowadays I don’t know anyone who isn’t grumbling when they pay – ooooeee does that hurt!) so I told the other trucker so long and climbed back up in the cab.
Well. I don’t care if he wasn’t married, as he said, he had no excuse to be goin’ around looking that bad. His beard had rats in it, I do believe. It looked like it from all the tangles. His hair was greasy hanging down from a muddy hat, an’ when he turned around to finish fueling his truck, his britches looked like they were going to slide right on off him.
Since when do truckers go around lookin’ like dirty ’ol men?
My stars and garters! Even a homeless shelter wouldn’t have taken him in. Showers are available out there on the road, boys – and barbers too, come to think of it. I don’t recall ever seein’ anyone who had his right seat cover with him looking that bad. If this guy wants to even think about getting married again, he’d better at least take a bath once in a while. Sure am glad the breeze was blowin’ away from me … ol’ Skunk Breath over there probably would’ve curled my eyelashes.
An’ while I’m at it, speakin’ of manners, what has happened to sayin’ “Thank You” when someone flashes their lights at you and lets you over in their lane? It only takes two or three little return blinks, drivers, and it sure makes the trucker who slowed down and made room for you feel good. Miles is always mutterin’ under his breath about ‘the snot-nosed kid who can’t even have the courtesy to say “Thanks, Pop!” after I’ve let him slide over here.’
I had a good time when I went in to get a loaf of bread and some other things at a truck stop last Monday, though. Every driver who had to squeeze past me to get to the other side of the cashier’s line said, “Excuse me.” Now wasn’t that nice? But I do wish that young blonde girl hadn’t pushed the potato chip display back up against the wall. Spoiled all my fun, openin’ up a nice wide aisle like that.
Well, enough of my preachin’ for now. I know most of you have hearts as big as your rigs are, an’ it’s just a few who are out on the road being discourteous and dirtier than Jack Allen’s hogs … but it only takes a few of us for the public to think we all act and look like that.
I ain’t no hairy-chested trucker (shut UP, Miles!) but a little soft soap will make a lot of things go smoother. Think about it.
All right, I’m gonna sign off for now. Drive safe everybody, an’ when I see Santa, I’ll give him your list!

Don't Tread On Me - It Makes Me Tired

2004-10-16T15:00:00.000-07:00

Hello all you guys and gals on the road –
Sorry it’s been a mite since you heard from me last. We just didn’t have time to pull over for any chit-chat, and I didn’t get the laptop out ‘til Miles had a delivery this mornin’. So anyway, here I am with my usual truckload of Tropical Sailboat Fuel (aw, c’mon, use your head – hot air, get it?).
Let’s see, I’ll bring you kinda up to date. I saw something that almost brought a tear to my eye. It was something you’d only see in America. We were in Lancaster, PA, and noticed a small bank on the corner had three drive-through lanes open, with people waiting to be helped. That wasn’t the unusual part. The first two lanes had a couple of four-wheelers in line. The last lane had a horse-drawn Amish buggy pulled up to the teller’s window. Now isn’t that the USA for you?
Seems we been runnin’ hard lately. The price of diesel fuel is enough to choke that same horse I was just talkin’ about. I heard on the news that some of the big international oil dealers were getting ready to step in, so let’s hope they do. In the meantime, my wish for all of us truckers out here is for very few idle moments, that’s for sure.
While we’ve been on the road, I heard Trucker Joe, The CB Entertainer and he got me to thinkin’, he sure deserves his handle. Some of his poems are funny, an’ others make my eyes well up like I’d been slicin’ onions. I told him, at my age, I can’t afford to cry – I’ll get rust spots. He just laughed.
Seems Mr. Shine was still out on the West hill in Albuquerque the last we heard from him. He does a great job polishing wheels and such. He can make any ol’ truck look like a show truck.
I heard something funny from my sister-in-law the other day, Florafora Wheeler. (Yeah, I know it’s a peculiar name, an’ she’s real sensitive about it. Seems when she was born, Miles’ mom called her Pa to tell him he now had a granddaughter. Well, her Pa got so excited over the news, he was yellin’ into the phone, tryin’ to tell her to name the baby after Miles’ grandma, Flora. But he lost his teeth out in the middle of all the hollerin’, and Miles’ mother, bless her heart, thought he’d said, “Name the baby Florafora! Florafora!” So she did.) Anyways, Florafora travels the country in her little RV, her an’ her five cats, an’ she went into a truck stop the other day and in the ladies’ room saw “Hoods rule – Cab-overs drool!” written on the wall. Now, that’s funny.
Reminds me, we had several cab-overs during this here long career. Our first one was back in 1937. You’ve heard all the flap lately about the Fair Labor Act. Well, I was there, ladies and gentlemen, when they passed that durn bill, an’ dadgum if it didn’t exempt farm workers and truck drivers right off the bat. I was hoppin’ mad! Miles an’ me were up in the Visitors’ Gallery there at Congress, an’ first I took off my shirt, an’ then I took off my bra an’ waved it an’ my shirt up an’ down, hollerin’ “They’re takin’ the shirts right off our backs!” in protest.
Well, nobody noticed. Except for one nasty little whippersnapper – somebody said he was a page (huh – he shouldn’t have been more than a sentence) who rudely said, “Put your shirt back on, boy!”
I was so mad – an’ of course, Miles laughed an’ laughed until he doubled over. He did later that night, too. He slept on the doghouse in our old cab-over, an’ I had the bunk to myself.
Well, guess I’d better wrap this up an’ go make a sandwich or something for Miles. He’s been findin’ all the winding roads again. I told him and told him, ever time he goes around one of them curves, the laptop keyboard goes allll theee waaaayyyyy over to the right, but he won’t believe me. Silly ol’ coot. Oh well, guess he’s still got some truckin’ to do. 110 an’ still at it, can you believe it? He says one of these days, we’ll have enough money to retire. An’ you know what he wants to do? Buy an RV an’ go travelin.’ I ask you.
’Til next time, then, like one of my favorite people on the radio, Tim Brady says, “Keep it in gear and keep it right here.” Remember, Stream 138 is for us Sirius truckers.
Yours most sincerely,
Nadine

Keep on Truckin'

2004-10-08T09:02:00.000-07:00

I've seen all 48 states but not everything in each state, so I'm still travelin'. And Miles - that's my husband; he still likes to travel too. We've been married since January, 1, 1912. We got married in New Mexico Territory - that means before it was a state. Miles was 18 an' I was a blushing bride of 16. I won't say my old coot's been driving a long time, but the first driving job he had, he yelled "Git up!" and "Whoa!" a lot of the time. Funny how fast them hay-burners seemed in those days.
Miles scared me here a while back. We'd pulled into a Rest Stop after the last delivery (empty trailer - you know, no place to go for a while), and I kinda wondered why we just sat for three days. He wouldn't talk to me - I figured either he was in one of his moods, or maybe he'd turned off his hearing aids again.
Well, we sat there and sat there and finally a State Trooper came by and banged on the cab door the third morning and asked, "Is everything okay in there?"
I rolled my window down and said, "Well, I guess it is -"
And the Trooper said, "Phew - what is that awful smell?"
And I thought, "Oh, oh - did Miles up and die behind the wheel, like he always said he was going to? I thought it was his socks."
So the Trooper called the Emergency Medical folks an' they came rushing out in a ambulance with the red lights whirring and siren screaming. They started working Miles over when they got him out of the cab. Miles came around. He started yelling, "That's enough, Nadine! Leave me alone! How many times a month do you want to get frisky, you nasty ol' woman?"
So that awful smell was Miles' socks after all.
You know what was funny? The Trooper made Miles take them socks off, and then he went an' SHOT those poor defenseless socks. Said it was the only decent way to put them out of their misery.
Guess I'd better get to movin' on. Oh, before I go, wanna hear some good gossip?
Seems Showtime and his fantastic Lady are gonna tie the knot. Hope they're happy, an' stay hitched at least as long as Miles and me. You know, I'd love to be a bridesmaid - they're gettin' married right on the air on Open Road Cafe, Trucker's Network at Sirius (Stream 138) - but what do you want to bet Miles won't get a load goin' anywhere near Dallas that day?
Left Lane's still out there drivin'; so's Robert Kuhle. I keep tellin' them boys they need to take it easy onct in a while, but they don't listen. I even offered to go along on some of their runs, just to keep 'em company, but they both turned a little pale - they're neither one gettin' any sun, that's obvious - an' said their dispatchers wouldn't let them take anyone along. Hmph. Mighty strict dispatchers.
Tony Mom got himself that fancy-shmancy truck what was on the back of the Motor Carriers Road Atlas for 2003. Real purty - wish Miles would spring for somethin' nice like that.
While you're on line lookin' around, check out HouseholdDrivers.com an' Driversmag.com. Good reading, and just for us truckers.
Guess I'd really better head out now. Miles is threatenin' to leave me here at the Diamond B - so I'll say 'bye for now, an' I'll see you behind the headlights someday. You-all drive safe now!
Nadine

Honk If You Love Truckin' !

2004-10-06T14:21:00.000-07:00

Hello truckers and right seat covers - across the USA and around the world!
This is Nadine Wheeler, the oldest (108 years young) Right Seat Cover in the eighteen-wheeled adventure known as truckin' ... and if you don't know what a Right Seat Cover is, well, then, young'uns, you're reading the wrong blog!
Gotta go for now - get it in gear and take off up the information super highway. My husband, Miles, is still driving at 110 ... but I generally have to go help the old coot get started. You other ladies who travel with your driver/husbands know what I mean. We'll have our satellite radio on - gotta listen to Open Road Cafe every weekday morning, you know. I really like Sirius Trucking Network Stream 138 - it's geared just for us truckers. I hear they're talking about adding a new show or two, one with a real trucker on it - that Tim Brady, now, he's a hoot. Kinda young, if you ask me (he's only been driving 23 years) but still, a good kid. If you'd like to have more real truckers on the radio to listen to (I might get my own program too someday - you never know), be sure and call Open Road Cafe and tell 'em. You can reach them at 888-782-5966 - and tell them Nadine Wheeler sent you.
You-all drive safe now!
Nadine