AlaskaAV
GONE WEST
Mission, TX
When our airline shut down in 1986 in Alaska (the 7th airline lost that year at the time) I left Alaska and headed back to Nebraska to take care of my father his last year. Not an easy job of course but still interesting for me since I finally, after 50 years, got to know my Dad.
At one point, I took a job managing an Elks Club dining room and bar. It was fun but involved some 18 hours or more per day so had to leave the position. Maybe a story about the State Alcohol Commission investigator that finally had to approve me as the manager on the liquor license. What a kid does in high school always follows him/her for their life.
Anyway, after leaving that endeavor and after my Dad had passed on, I knew I was going to be able to retire early at 50 so went to school and got my big rig truck driver's license and started driving coast to coast long haul tucks to get used to big rigs in places like downtown Boston, Phili, New York City, Chicago, Kansas City, Denver, Seattle, LAX, SFO, Phoenix, etc., just to get ready to run my 63 foot long motor home with convertible tow car. Worst town at rush hour in a big rig was the loupe in Chicago. This will get interesting...
Right out of driving school, I started hauling swinging beef (half of a beef [400 pounds per half?] hanging from the roof of a special semi trailer) from Nebraska to downtown New York City. No long time driver riding with me but just by myself. Guess the boss trusted me and his truck. I had to plan the entire trip myself which was easy since it was like planning a flight but I had to find the address. Only thing is that I was
13' 6" high and in downtown Manhattan, Queens, Bronx, etc. let along Chicago, there are many low overpasses. We always delivered at 3 AM for a reason. Safety. The police in New York City didn't want any semi driver to stop for a red light at night. If it was red, we were to slow down, look both ways, hit the air horn and run the light. I remember the usual place I offloaded was next door to a fire department. Felt safe? Wrong. Many of the guys felt their rigs start rocking as people tried to cut the locks off the trailer doors. This next to a fire house within a fenced in security area. Probably the fresh meat went to the fire house and their families. Only good thing about it was looking out and see the Lady lit up in the harbor. I never had a problem but a local sheriff in Nebraska gave me a bottle of mace he got from a cop shop for me to carry. I also sharpened up a stainless steel meat hook to a very fine point. It was very well shiny and in clear view from anyone on the ground. I still carry it in my motor home. (Oh what damage that thing can do when needed and it was legal) Mace in a big rig is illegal of course and forget a firearm of any kind. The most dangerous place for a trucker to carry fresh meat into is Washington, DC. I made many a trip there and never slept all night. A trucker never knew if it would be a cop or criminal that would go after them to get the meat. All truckers would back into each other to protect the trailer doors and when you got a whole bunch of guys together, it helped. Safety in numbers they say.
Probably more stories like this in the future. Life after aviation I call it.
At one point, I took a job managing an Elks Club dining room and bar. It was fun but involved some 18 hours or more per day so had to leave the position. Maybe a story about the State Alcohol Commission investigator that finally had to approve me as the manager on the liquor license. What a kid does in high school always follows him/her for their life.
Anyway, after leaving that endeavor and after my Dad had passed on, I knew I was going to be able to retire early at 50 so went to school and got my big rig truck driver's license and started driving coast to coast long haul tucks to get used to big rigs in places like downtown Boston, Phili, New York City, Chicago, Kansas City, Denver, Seattle, LAX, SFO, Phoenix, etc., just to get ready to run my 63 foot long motor home with convertible tow car. Worst town at rush hour in a big rig was the loupe in Chicago. This will get interesting...
Right out of driving school, I started hauling swinging beef (half of a beef [400 pounds per half?] hanging from the roof of a special semi trailer) from Nebraska to downtown New York City. No long time driver riding with me but just by myself. Guess the boss trusted me and his truck. I had to plan the entire trip myself which was easy since it was like planning a flight but I had to find the address. Only thing is that I was
13' 6" high and in downtown Manhattan, Queens, Bronx, etc. let along Chicago, there are many low overpasses. We always delivered at 3 AM for a reason. Safety. The police in New York City didn't want any semi driver to stop for a red light at night. If it was red, we were to slow down, look both ways, hit the air horn and run the light. I remember the usual place I offloaded was next door to a fire department. Felt safe? Wrong. Many of the guys felt their rigs start rocking as people tried to cut the locks off the trailer doors. This next to a fire house within a fenced in security area. Probably the fresh meat went to the fire house and their families. Only good thing about it was looking out and see the Lady lit up in the harbor. I never had a problem but a local sheriff in Nebraska gave me a bottle of mace he got from a cop shop for me to carry. I also sharpened up a stainless steel meat hook to a very fine point. It was very well shiny and in clear view from anyone on the ground. I still carry it in my motor home. (Oh what damage that thing can do when needed and it was legal) Mace in a big rig is illegal of course and forget a firearm of any kind. The most dangerous place for a trucker to carry fresh meat into is Washington, DC. I made many a trip there and never slept all night. A trucker never knew if it would be a cop or criminal that would go after them to get the meat. All truckers would back into each other to protect the trailer doors and when you got a whole bunch of guys together, it helped. Safety in numbers they say.
Probably more stories like this in the future. Life after aviation I call it.
