What Happens In Bama Makes You Want To Move To Texas

Boss: I'm so glad I have a driver like you.

Me: Thanks, Boss. What made you say that?

Boss: You don't screw things up.

Me: Isn't that what we're SUPPOSED to do.

Boss: You know how drivers are...

Me: I don't know but tell me, please.

Boss: [SILENT]

Me: Boss, have you considered what it would be like if I wasn't around?

Boss: Oh, come on!!! You'll never leave here.

Me: We'll see about that. [WINK]

   This was a conversation I had with my boss in 2013.  By this point I had spent almost 3 years with a local outfit in Huntsville, AL.  I wasn't just driving.  I was spending one day a week in the office helping with regulatory and office-related functions such as truck maintenance records, driver daily logs, recovering load paperwork and training.  The Big Fuzzy Roadman was the go-to guy for all your latest trucking and fuel hauling knowledge.  This was as lovely as watching a funeral procession slowly pass through town.

Friend: Hey! What's up?

Me: Not much. You?

Friend: I was wondering if you could help me out?

Me: [ROLLS EYES] How much is this going to cost me?

   This conversation usually happened when a broke friend needed money. One in particular made it look like I was his personal ATM until I cut him off.  Nobody ever seemed to have the means to pay their bills much less pay me back. Often times I would 'gift' them the money. I knew many of them couldn't pay me back.  The most disappointing thing was their lack of effort.

Female: My boyfriend treats me like crap.

Me: We've had this conversation before.  If it's that bad why don't you leave him?

Female: I don't know.  I love him and all but every time I think he has to go I think that I am going to be lonely and my kids will miss him and my bed will be empty and I can't pay my own bills without him.

Me: I guess you love him enough for him to pull his crap on you.

     This was a normal conversation with female friends.  What makes it worse is that most of these women wouldn't know a good guy if they met one.  Nice guys weren't a wanted commodity.  They were talked about like they were but the buttholes always made their way to first place.  I was used to this.  Maybe it was time to look for another pool of available, intelligent women wanting to actually be in a real relationship with a real man willing to treat them like a lady.  It wore on me to see codependent women keep on being codependent.  They must have liked it, I guess.

Engineer: Hey there, Mr. Gas Hauler!  How does it feel to drive around a bomb?

Me: I noticed you work for NASA.  How does it feel to work for a government department that is having funding cut?  Too bad the current administration doesn't support you dream of being an astronaut.

   Engineers always seemed to have the upper hand in North Alabama.  Huntsville has the most PhD's per capita that any other major city in Alabama. They made more money and changed the face of the city. For as much as they broadened the city's demographic, they often looked down on others as if they were royalty.  It makes me glad I dropped out of school and didn't become one myself.

Family Member: Hey!!! Long time no see!

Me: I cant remember when I last saw you.

Family:  Well, if you'd stick around longer people might actually get to know you.  Heck, if you'd come to church and watch a football game with us we'd like you more.  Too bad you prefer to ride the highways like a gypsy.

Me: Well, I'm too busy living my own life to let anyone else own it.

     The problem with many of my extended family members is that they were way too self-absorbed for my liking.  If you didn't like the same things as they did or go to the same church then you didn't fit in. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't follow conversations on family gossip.  They let their imaginations run wild when I left out details of my life such as the real reason I became a truck driver, making money and taking care of a home.

Alabama Football Fan: Hey! ROLL TIDE!!!

Me: [SIGHS IN DISGUST]

     I know how many Bama Football fans there are.  They are everywhere.  They were their colors, crimson and white.  They shout their war call, ROLL TIDE!  They are arrogant. They are disgusting.  And they worship a dead football coach.  As many of them are awaiting the second coming of Jesus, they also await the day, during the Iron Bowl, that the great Paul W. 'Bear' Bryant will descend from heaven and take over coaching duties as only he could.  Bama fans everywhere will kneel as the Bear will charge one more time to defeat Auburn and put them down never to be seen again.

     I know that some you still live in Sweet Home Alabama and I do miss some things but I no longer experience the same nonsense that brings me down anymore.  To my Bama friends, best of luck.

No Rest For The Self Inflicted

     It is commonly understood that if you are tired then you should sleep. Yet even from a young we constantly fight the urge to stop, lay down, rest, then fall into actual sleep. Mother's across America will tell you, "He/she didn't have their nap today and they woke up at 4 o'clock in the morning, they're just tired. That's why they look miserable and are crying on and off uncontrollably," as you look at the mother who wants to act the same way her child is from her own sleep loss.
     Then you have the hard working adult who 'just wants one more minute' they tell themselves, for those few extra miles, for that last finishing touch on a craft project, for that last part of a TV program, for whatever those last few moments are for to stop us from letting go and getting the much needed rest.
     Many truck drivers have been know to drive illegally for 20 hours straight, this means that they are willing to ignore the laws that protect their sleep and safety. The same can be said for crafters and mothers a like who are finishing Christmas pageant costumes, cupcakes for a class bake sale, and any general illness that claims to only last for '24 hours' per family member. These are some of the simple things that we do or can't avoid to post pone sleep for the self inflicted.
     We live in a culture that is so sleep deprived with Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, and Seven 11's that real rest is no longer valued. It's really hard to give a damn when you are too tired to smell the roses, and coffee really can burn out your taste buds so a steak will never taste the same again. What else are you willing to miss out on because so many pieces of yourself are too tired to enjoy them from your self inflicted lack of rest?
     We have become a culture of sleep apnea and obsession with instant gratification and ignoring our personal needs. Ever make a list of all the things you are too tired to do? This does not include joining a gym, going for daily walks, or eating healthier. This means doing things with other people, going places to be with other humans, and screwing your better half every night. They say that the evidence is in the details, and screwing is such an interesting detail to have in your life. Now get back on your treadmill, you need just one more minute on that computer, just one more minute with your hot glue gun, just one more minute......Zzzzzzzz

Don't Paint Your Propane Tank Brown

I really don't know if people know anything about propane at all. Some people honestly don't like the fact that they have a big bulky tank in their yard that has to be filled every year with money they claim to not have. They consider driving the truck into their driveway actually becomes an 'intrusion' to their privacy and I become the outsider trespassing on their property long enough to fill their tank, collect payment and leave tracks in their yard. (Side note: I don't like to leave the concrete if I can at all avoid it.) 

I do run into those however who want to paint a tank a color to match the house they live in.  If it's white, aluminum or other heat-reflective color this is not a problem.  But imagine a tank painted brown, dark brown to color coordinate with the walls and trim on your single-wide, 16' X 80' trailer. It can be a very confusing task to try and explain the scientific reasons why I cannot legally fill their tank because it is the wrong color. This is not like the popular TV show What Not To Wear and the poor person keeps mixing plaids with stripes, this is about the fact that darker colors make the tank hotter thus making the liquid propane expand in large quantities so the additional heat can make it explode. Nature is not always kind, and it is a community service to correct this misconception if they want their tank to last a few more years of which are also not cheap.

The most volatile characteristic of liquid propane is how it reacts to temperature.  At 0° F outside temperature liquid propane will not expand much in a tank at all and will have hardly any vapor pressure.  However, at 117° F, which is known to happen in Texas, a fully filled propane tank (at about 80 % of  listed water capacity of the tank)  with a working pressure of 250 psi has a very serious chance of spewing gas through the relief valve like Old Faithful.  Darker colors retain heat, this is why heat-reflective colors are required for the outside surface area of the of a propane storage tank. Even Cliff and Stacy would agree that lighter colors in the summer time would totally lower the sweat factor, and the psi pressure in your tank.

When a tank spews forth like a raging geyser it then becomes a liability and costs hundreds of dollars to fix. Also prompting calls to the fire department and other authorities who will in turn ask the question as to why their propane tank was painted brown. Evacuation of the area might even be mandatory costing people valuable time away from their homes. Once a relief valve pops off, then the tank can no longer be used in the storage of liquid propane until this valve is replaced, costing unnecessary dollars and down time.  We certainly want to help protect our friends and neighbors safe by being able to keep the water heaters and ovens going. Everybody wants hot food and showers, so is it worth the cost to paint your propane tank brown? Vanity cannot afford this cost.

Propane Tank In Paris

   Today I left a warm bodied red head sleeping in my bed, who woke up when I kissed her, grabbed my shirt and pulled me in closer. My mind is only a blur of this image as I drive to Paris Texas to install a propane tank. There is a ziplock bag of orange craisin scones complete with white glaze sitting on the seat next to me, she insists that she is not Martha Stewart, but my recent weight loss due to her cooking says otherwise. I don't think Hank Hill knows what it means to really be a propane guy, he doesn't deliver the gas, drive the transports, or set up the holding tanks all over Texas.
   The red head will be taking pictures for me today so that more items can be sold on Ebay, she says that the pictures are the contract between you and the buyer. I have a very efficient legal agent. These are some of the little things she does not make me not want to work today. She makes doing nothing the most desirable thing in the world...my memories of her include images of the naked photo shoot Marilyn Monroe did before she died...except I could touch her, and she made lasagna. I really don't want to work today.
   She makes being a truck driver painful, that every mile between means just as many that I have to travel back to reach a hot meal, quiet house, and a very relaxing bed. We truck drivers don't have many luxuries in life that happen on a daily basis, we have to wait until we are allowed to stop moving long enough to make the time to enjoy them. We crash a lot, as in we work until we can't go any more then we crash from the shear exhaustion and don't get to use or see much of the humanity around us, thus we are a little socially malnourished. Last night I crashed into bed, so tired and dead asleep, that I never heard my red head get out of the shower and come to bed looking like Marilyn Monroe from that photo shoot. This is just one of the many ways I feel as if death is winning and life lost a point in this game.
   Later we will talk antiques, shipping, billing fees, bubble wrap, and the cost of packaging peanuts, then how my hands hurt and that my shoulder is acting up. She will make me an ice wrap and massage a few of the hurt areas with her elbows, then put me to bed. If I don't start snoring within the first two minutes, she will run her nails over my skin and melt me like butter....this is when I am no longer a truck driver and do not have the mental capacity to decide anything. I am going to die now in the arms of a red head. Don't try and stop me....she made barbecue chicken.