Fuel prices continue to rise.  It means we either need to drive less or drive differently. Since truckers rely on driving for their income, they can’t drive less.  Their only option is to drive differently.  An 18-wheeler hauling down the highway at 65 or 70 miles per hour, gets about 5.5 miles per gallon.  At $4.00 a gallon, it can cost $1,000.00 to fill the fuel tanks of a big rig.  In order to stay in business, truckers must do whatever they can to improve fuel mileage.  Of course, one of the main ways to increase it is simply to slow down – drive 59.7 rather than 70.2.  This small change will provide immediate results. 

Yet, this alone, will not provide long term consistent returns if other issues are not addressed as well. In addition to slowing down, a driver needs to:

•    Calibrate the truck’s computer system for more efficient fuel usage.  
•    Check the filters.  If they are clogged with dirt and debris, the engine can’t breathe (yes, engines breathe!) and fuel           efficiency will go down.  
•    Use only high grade tires that are properly inflated.
•    Check to be sure the suspension is even, and that there is no shimmying in the steering.
•    Add fuel treatments every time the fuel tanks are filled.

These are the foundational blocks that insure that the truck will sashay down the pavement stress free, without tension or shimmying, and without pulling to one side or the other.  When the foundational pieces are in place and the driver slows down to 59.7, then 5.5 miles a gallon can rise up to a respectable 8.3 or higher.  This translates into 700 or more miles that can be traveled on one tank of fuel.  Again at $4.00 a gallon, that is $280.

I am often amazed at how similar truck life is to human life.  When I’m overly stressed, cranky, out of sorts, excessively fatigued, or in some other way not performing to the best of my ability, I generally come to the conclusion that I need to do things differently.  “I need to slow down,” I tell myself.  So, I take a day off, get a few hours more sleep, try to avoid taking on more projects or responsibilities.  That gives me a little relief, to be sure, but slowing down is not enough to settle my soul into smoothness again.  If I want to get better soul mileage, there’s more to consider.
 
Are my filters clean? Over time, dirt and debris have a way of collecting in my soul.  I feel clogged up and wonder why I find it so difficult to simply trudge through the day. If I clean out the blockages, my soul opens with freedom and breathes easily.  Joy and lightness become more steady companions.

Are my tires in good shape and properly filled?  The tires of my soul can weaken with the daily rigors of life.  The tread thins and the air slowly seeps out, until I feel like I’m rumbling rather than rolling through my day. Checking the tightness and pressure in my soul, even giving it a complete overhaul, makes it possible for me to ride through life again with the Spirit of God – rather than my stress – animating me.

Is my suspension even? Or, am I shimmying as I steer through my day?  The demands and struggles of daily life can leave me feeling distorted – as if I’m leaning too far in one direction, or as if some parts of my soul are crimped like a twisted garden hose.  When my life is distorted, my soul is distorted too. If I take some time to straighten myself out, the ache of my soul disappears and I am ready again to face the busy thoroughfares of life.

What treatments am I adding to my day?  Weeks can go by without my being aware of my soul at all, much less making sure that it receives all the nutrients it needs.  When I add little infusions of grace; stillness, laughter, nature, and beauty to my day and to my soul, I feel as full as if I’ve eaten a feast after a 40 day fast.

Human life these days can feel like a steady sapping of energy and strength. The miles of life can leave me operating at a much lower efficiency level than creation intended.  With a few soul tweaks, however, life becomes as exciting as that ride across the country in a Kenworth T660...

They litter the highway. The pieces of rubber that have flown off the retreaded tires of big rigs.  The large ones are curved, shredded, and spiked, while the small ones look as if they are masquerading as snakes slinking across the road.  No matter the size, truckers call these pieces of rubber – “Gators.” They are unwanted obstacles that will do as much damage to a truck as an alligator will do to a delectable human. If a driver is not paying attention and happens to roll over one, he or she can easily find, for example, that the ‘gator’ has slashed the air lines underneath the trailer.  

Air lines are the lifeblood of the truck.  Without air, the truck will simply stop working, then and there.  No amount of coaxing or cajoling, cursing or collaborating will incite the truck to move until the air that powers it is restored.  Even the small snakelike remains of tires have the capacity to completely shut down a truck.  So, truckers are attentive to those obstacles – those ‘gators.’ And, when they see even a slinking slice of one on the road, they will change lanes in order to avoid it.

One afternoon as I was trying to skirt around a ‘gator,’ I realized that life itself is littered with ‘gators.’ The ‘gators’ of life are obstacles that can pose real danger to my soul, if I am not attentive and aware of their presence. Because they are usually not as starkly visible to me as the pieces of rubber on the road, I can find myself right on top of one without even knowing it.  It’s only after I feel some part of my lifeblood slipping away, some measure of the Spirit being squelched, some emptiness overcoming me that I come to my senses and figure out that I’ve bumped into one of these gator obstacles and had better get free of it as soon as I can.  

It’s not usually that I’m just being willful and looking to spice up life by dancing with a gator.  Rather, I’ve become sleepy or nonchalant about keeping my eyes open and my soul primed to notice them when they appear.  Sometimes the lifeblood seeps out slowly and subtly so I am tricked into thinking nothing is really wrong.  “Just going through a bad patch in life,” I might tell myself and continue on in my dance with the gator not really aware that I may be dancing with a sleazy partner. This is true on a truck as well.  Gators can be easily detected in daylight, but in the darkness they are like thieves in the night.  Since they are the same color as the black highway, a trucker can realize, only too late, that they have bashed right into one.  So, here are a few tips I’ve discovered for dealing with the obstacles of life that threaten to stop my soul from moving forward into union with the Divine.

Pay attention to the pavement.  For the trucker this is literal and means staying focused on what is foundational for a safe journey.  In the field of my soul, this means paying regular and consistent attention to my foundation – God.  If I go for days, or weeks, or months, or years without watching that relationship, I will find that I have been bitten by a ‘gator’ that crossed my path while I was scanning the horizon for something more exciting than my relationship with the Holy One.

Know what a ‘gator’ looks like.  ‘Gators’ are easily identifiable on the road.  There’s not a trucker, or automobile driver for that matter, who does not know what a piece of retread litter looks like.  When it comes to the soul, however, it helps to do some inner sleuthing to see what the personal ‘gators’ are in life – because they are different for each of us.  This was certainly true for our ancient fathers and mothers in Scripture.  A ‘gator’ for Thomas was the need for proof before he would believe.  A ‘gator’ for Judas Iscariot was greed.  A ‘gator’ for Moses was lack of personal confidence and trust in God’s power.  A ‘gator’ for Sarah was scoffing at the possibility of miracles. A ‘gator’ for Jonah was racism. I have my own ‘gators,’ and I suspect you have yours.  When I do the inner work of knowing what they look like, what they feel like, what they act like, I have a better chance of avoiding them and completing my soul’s journey safely.

Trust that there’s life after a ‘gator’ bite.  Even when a truck is injured by the nefarious work of a chunk of rubber, the truck can be taken to the shop to be repaired.  There may be costs involved, or time lost in being shut down, but the problem can be fixed.  It’s no different with my soul.  I am never bitten so badly by an obstacle that threatens the health of my soul that God cannot repair the damage that has occurred.  It only requires that I take myself back to the shop of God where, with love and mercy, I will be healed.

‘Gators’ on the road show up in varied sizes or configurations, but they are still black and rubber.  If I keep alert, I can easily spare myself the trouble of actually getting too close to one.  ‘Gators’ for the soul also come in all shapes and sizes.  They can be dangerous or merely annoying. And, while I may not always be able to avoid them, they certainly have the power to lead me back to God.

3 CB Radio Truths
It’s not only driving that requires attention and learning.  The CB radio has to be mastered.  So there I was, driving along a straight stretch of I40, my trainer by my side, paying attention to the rocking cadence of the truck and the road grinding against each other.  My trainer belted out what seemed like a fierce order. “Get on the CB and find out if the scale house (weigh station is what automobile drivers know it as) is open.” Ready to comply, and feeling this was a task I surely could manage, I grabbed the CB, pushed the microphone button and said, “Does anyone out there know if the scale house on I40 West is open?”  I waited.  No response.  

“Ah, maybe I wasn’t loud enough,” I said to myself.  Pushing the button, I tried again.  “Do any drivers out there know if the scale house on I40 going West is open?”  I waited.  Again, no response.  I looked at my trainer hoping he would have some useful instruction.  He stared out the front window in silence.

I tried a third time.  “Is there anyone out there who can tell me if the scale house on I40 West is open?”  Absolute silence.  Yes, absolute silence from a CB that is usually haranguing the air with every piece of tawdry and lewd information imaginable. My trainer, suddenly roused from his silence, turned to me and barked, “As long as you’re gonna sound like a priest or a mother, ain’t nobody out there gonna answer you.  Right now, it’s so quiet out there, you can’t hear nothin’ but a cricket chirp.”

I pushed the button a fourth time and without a moment’s hesitation bellowed, “Anybody out there got a copy?”

“You bet, babe.  What d’ya need?”  The response was immediate – there hardly before I could replace the microphone in its holder.  After a brief but useful conversation with the trucker on the other end of the CB, I put the microphone back in its place and looked quizzically at my trainer.

“You don’t need to take on all the negative language of a trucker, but you need to speak in a way they understand. You’ll never get anywhere talking like you’re a priest or a mother!  These are truckers – pay attention to their world and speak to that world.  If you’re gonna ‘git’ down,’ then ‘git’ down!’” my trainer said, with a smile on his face.

Well, there was a real example of what St. Paul meant when he said, “When in Rome, do as the Romans.”  I realized how often in daily life I say I care about someone, but I don’t really want to get into their world and feel what they feel.  It’s so easy to simply say some courteous, seemingly caring thing, while remaining as distant as a college professor from a dock worker on Long Island. Perhaps, I knew this fact before my I started to learn how to drive a truck.  But, what the CB conversation revealed to me was why I stay aloof from those who are different from me.  I want to relate, but I don’t want to become too much like them, lest I somehow lose a part of myself, or worse yet, prove to those around me that I have lowered my personal standards in some way.  My soul was stretched that day.  I recognized three important truths about my interaction with those who are different from me.

First, my eyesight is limited.  If I am going to care as I say I want to care, I have to be willing to see another’s world through their eyes rather than my own.  As long as I am unwilling to be exposed to the reality of their everyday life, I am not really ‘gittin’ down’ with them.  I am pretending.  I am using my education and social skills to be the skin of my compassion, while my soul stays tucked safely away.  When I cast away the skin, my soul is exposed, and my life will no longer be the same. That is the real terror.

Second, ‘gittin’ down’ can’t be faked. We all know when someone is really ‘in there’ with us.  We know in our gut if they really care about us in our situation, or if they are merely layering our world with theirs.  When we are in the company of those who really care about our world, we are free to be our raw and ragged selves in a way that makes it possible to receive compassion and be personally changed.
 
Third, I can ‘git’ down’ without forfeiting my identity.  What prevents me from fully entering the ‘trucking ethos,’ for example, is the fear that I might become too much of a trucker, might adopt too many patterns that are unhealthy for me, might wander too far away from the world I’ve known for so long. And, if I scratch deeper down into my soul, I find that I’m fearful that those who have loved and respected me might turn away if I’m no longer so identifiably predictable to them. What my trainer showed me that day, is that I can ‘git down’ with those who are different and still retain my own self-understanding, my own integrity, even my own manner of being.  But only, if I am willing to shed my wrapping of moral superiority.

Now, that’s the hard pill to swallow.  It isn’t easy to face the truth of my own presumed superiority.  May God have mercy on my soul, because, in the end there truly is no difference between any of us – truckers or tax collectors, priests or postal workers, politicians or pizza makers.  We are all stamped with the image of God.

It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything about my trucking life.  The days go by so quickly on a truck and so many things occur in the course of just one day, that it sometimes seems overwhelming to try to capture it all in words.  And, much of it, I’m sure, would be completely uninteresting to my readers.  Recently, however, I was telling someone about washing blueberries in the truck stop bathroom, and popping popcorn in an air popper in the truck stop shower, and the immediate response given to me was, “This is what people want to know!  What is it really like out there?”

So, today, I’ll give you a short vignette that may (or may not) be of interest!  Last week, we went from Henderson, Colorado to Orlando, Florida.  Then, from Orlando to New York and New Jersey, and then back to Colorado where we are now sitting.  One evening as I was driving along the freeway toward Orlando, the truck just stopped.  All systems down. The lights went out, all power was gone, and the truck was coasting along the highway going from 65 mph to 0. That little event necessitated a tow to the Kenworth dealer in Jacksonville, Florida, 85 miles away from where we were.  Now, after you’ve experienced towing a tractor-trailer, you will probably never again complain about having to tow your car!  Just hooking up a tractor-trailer to the wrecker is a time-consuming experience in itself, not to mention the expense.  Almost $800.00!  

We stayed in the Jacksonville Kenworth facility for two days waiting for the emission system on the truck to be repaired.  Thankfully, we were able to spend one night at a nearby hotel because the Kenworth trucker lounge was mediocre at best. Still, there were countless hours spent in that lounge. We rejoiced when we got out of there and were back ‘on the road again.’

Unfortunately, yesterday, as we were cruising along happily to our delivery location in Denver it became obvious that the truck was losing air at a rather rapid rate.  A semi will ‘lock up solid’ without air.  We immediately called the Kenworth facility in Denver to see if they could repair the truck and get us out in one day.  We were thrilled to find that they would be able to look at the truck within six or seven hours.  If the repair is not too extensive, and the parts are in stock, we have a chance of getting out in time to pick up our next load tomorrow.  

One of the things that most people don’t realize is how long it takes to get a truck in the shop, how long repairs take, and how much money is lost.  Not just on a tow or the repair, but in the time that the truck is not moving.  Then, there can be additional expense if you’re in the middle of the load and miss your delivery appointment! Because there are so many trucks on the American highways, there are always trucks ahead of yours – even when you call in advance, so a 6-hour wait to have the truck diagnosed is good news, and the possibility of getting out tomorrow is worth celebrating!  

So, here’s the scoop on what’s going on while we wait.  Since drivers often have to spend days in the trucker’s lounge, dealerships try to be accommodating and hospitable.  The Denver Kenworth is a 24-hour service facility and the trucker’s lounge is a step above the one in Jacksonville.  In addition to a TV and recliners, there’s a washer and dryer (we are washing our clothes right now!) and a room next to the bathroom that has a shower.  (I’m going to take mine as soon as I’m done writing this blog!) Now, you might wonder about taking a shower at a truck dealership.  First, you wear shower shoes (you do this in the truck stop shower as well), and second you bring your T-shirt, since a dealership does not provide towels like a truck stop does. Yes, we use T-shirts for towels!
 
Here’s a little peek into the window of my toilette.  I have become so accustomed to using T-shirts instead of towels, that I no longer use towels at home.  I have bright colored T-shirts in several sizes that match my shower curtain and bring a touch of whimsy to my bathroom.  T-shirts have great absorption, they can be incredibly soft, they are inexpensive, and they dry quickly (unlike a thick towel!).  It’s T-shirts for me! Now, if you want to try this at home without supervision, two tips will help:

1.     T-shirts don’t slide down the body as easily as a towel, so gentle patting is more effective than a vigorous rub.  A vigorous rub will cause the t-shirt to simply fold in a roll.  

2.    Before you begin to dry, do a ‘squeegee’ move on your body with your hands to remove excess water.  Your T-shirt will stay drier for longer.  Actually, this is a useful thing to do before drying with a towel as well.  (This was something I did not know before I got into trucking!)

Somehow all of this has led me to paraphrase Jesus’ words from Matthew 6:34.  “There’s really no point in worrying (or even wondering) about tomorrow.  What’s on today’s plate is quite enough.  In fact, it’s a feast.  So, just pay attention to what’s on that plate today.  Tomorrow will take care of itself.” And, what’s on the plate right now is that we should be back on the road in a few hours, with clean bodies, clean clothes, and a healthy truck.  And, we’ll go pick up another load of organic milk and head back on down to Orlando, and see what happens tomorrow!