The Consummate Stoner
When I first started truck driving, driving the Gravel Train, I was 20 years old in 1978. Out of all the jobs I’ve had in my life, that one was by far the most fun. It was literally like being in the Indy 500 everyday as we raced back and forth to the grave pit.
I was a certified pothead in that before I got that job I was smoking pot on a daily basis. Just because I was driving a 42-wheeled truck with payloads of over 200,000 pounds, didn’t mean I was going to all a sudden stop smoking pot.
On the contrary, no pun intended, I “put the pedal to the metal” with my pot-smoking habit. And…I did it in style too! When I was in the truck I needed something to roll the joints on. I ended up stealing a silver platter my mom had in the China cabinet we had at home.
I would roll my joints on the silver platter when I was at the gravel pit getting loaded (loaded with gravel, LOL). My typical day for a solid four years looked like this: I would get up around 4:00 am. Drive to the Redi-mix plant. Get my truck and head to the gravel pit. I’d get there about 5:30 so I could be loaded by 6:00-6:15.
I’d roll a big fat one while I was waiting to get loaded. As soon as I rolled off the scales I’d light up. I’d be stoned till about 10:00 am. When I got back down to the gravel pit I’d be getting the 3rd or 4th load of the day around 10:00. On the way back I’d light up again. That would keep me buzzed until lunchtime.
Whatever time I got back down to the pit after lunch I’d repeat the process. The last load of the day I’d get around 5:00-5:30. Coming back with the last load was always a celebration joint for a job well done. That’s four at work and then I’d come home and have a couple more with my buddies. Good thing I eventually started to get anxious when I smoked and finally got to the point where I quit. But the above scene played out for a solid four years.
In August 1983 I was a couple months from ending my truck driving career. For the most part, I wasn’t smoking pot anymore. The company that I was originally working for was on its way out of business and I hooked up with another company that strictly hauled aggregate mostly to construction sites.
It had its plusses and minuses, but I wasn’t making as much money and I could see the handwriting on the wall. I think at that point in my life I lost the “Long term career” feeling I had when I originally started driving. I had a real connection with Genesee Cement. It was my home. I hung out with the guys there. Tri City Aggregates was like being a fish out of water working there.
About two months before I retired from the trucking business a fellow “gravel train” driver from another company got killed when the “Walking beam” suspension on his truck snapped, he lost control, rolled over, and died. It hit home pretty close even though I didn’t know the guy personally. The “Gravel Train” drivers are a close-knit community. They are a special breed. They even have their own Facebook group now. 🤣
I didn’t know how a “Walking beam” suspension could do what it did. But that’s what holds the tandem wheels together on the tractor (the truck). When the Walking beam breaks the back wheels on the tractor no longer are held in place and start to whiplash. That makes the steering uncontrollable as the truck starts to serve all over the road and will eventually roll over.
My Last Load
I had a load of sand that I dumped on a job site that was off of 1-75 in the Pierson Road area. I got back in my truck and headed
back to the Gravel pit to get another load. I was driving southbound on 1-75 and there wasn’t much traffic on the road. I got up to highway speed (my truck had a top speed of about 72 MPH) and I pulled into the center lane to pass a slower-moving car. Most of the time when I pass someone I move back over into the right lane. But…for some reason, I stayed in the center lane (there were three lanes there).
So, I’m cruizin along minding my own business probably doing about 68 MPH, and all of a sudden I hear this loud snapping sound. I’m like, “What the heck was that?” Good thing there were no cars next to me because as soon as I had that fleeting thought I’m all over the road hanging on for dear life. I looked in my rearview mirror and the back trailer (a gravel train has two trailers) was sideways on the road. I could read the company name “Tri City” as clear as day. I’m like, “Here we go. I’m gonna flip!”
I closed my eyes and had a stranglehold on the steering wheel just holding on waiting to be ejected from the truck when it rolled (I never wore a seat belt back then). Next thing I know I’m stopped on the left-hand side of the road all in one piece. No accident. No damage. No harm. No foul. Other than the “Walking beam” on my truck sheering off all was good in the hood.
Conclusion
Two weeks earlier another driver had the same exact thing happen to him. His truck rolled and he lost his life. Why him and not me? How did I end up on a fairly busy expressway in the middle of the afternoon with no traffic anywhere in my vicinity? Why did I stay in the center lane after passing the car a half mile back? How did I end up in the far left emergency lane with the truck and trailers in a perfectly straight line like nothing happened?
The truck was undrivable and I had to have it towed. When I got back to the gravel pit and all the other drivers found out what happened you would have thought I was some kind of hero. To be honest the whole experience spoked me. Since I didn’t believe in God I just felt lucky. That was the last time I’ve ever driven a gravel truck.
