TRUCKSTOP - By Rich Tatarka

     Someone once told me that the winter right after a long hot-dry summer is especially wet and cold.  It’s January, and I am already still waiting for the snowshoe to drop, so to speak. Patiently awaiting those weeks at a time where I don’t think I’ve seen 25 continuous miles of dry pavement, and I have only hauled a handful of loads that I didn’t need 3+ sets of chains for.  I’m not complaining one bit about the nice weather though. But dry roads after a while do get a little bit boring, and what log hauler doesn’t crave the excitement of a slick ol’ road?  Sure, the hazards are triple what they are in the summertime, but day in and day out, we get up and go to work regardless of the conditions.  Seldom does the log hauler say to himself “maybe I ought to just stay home today”, instead he fires up the truck and away he goes.  Surely a major reason for him working when he should be parked is that large stack of bills that comes in the mail once a month, no matter what the weather is like.  Or maybe it’s his Logger who is counting on him to get his wood delivered so he too can pay his bills on time.

     So why does he get up and go when he can hardly see from one reflector to the next because of the snow?  Why does he struggle to throw on 2 sets of heavy chains when it would have been much nicer to stay in his nice warm bed?  There are 10,000 reasons for him to stay home, and only one reason why he goes- log hauling is in his blood.  He’s addicted to something for which there is no cure.  Ask him why he does it, and all you’ll hear from him is 25 or 30 complaints about one thing or another.  Yet, the next day, there he is, back at it again.  Day in and day out, on and on he hauls.  Oh sure, he would much rather be doing something else, and some guys do hang it up for a better job.  But they always come back, and if they don’t, there is this thing that’s always gnawing at him that makes him wish he was back in that darned ol’ log truck…

     So why does he do it?  What’s so addicting about sliding around on a steep 9’6” road in an 8’3” truck?  I don’t think there is a word to describe it.  Perhaps it’s Pride, or maybe a sense of satisfaction that he does what most people wouldn’t think of doing, and he does it well.  True, the log hauler might not have the same education as a doctor or an engineer, but just watch him sometime as he’s coming down an especially nasty mountain road flawlessly negotiating all the corners and steep spots with an ever-changing combination of gear shifts, jake brake and brake pedal applications with the precision of a surgeon. (Care to give it a try Professor?) 

     Log haulers also have this funny love-hate relationship with their trucks.  From the minute after they buy it, they can’t wait to get rid of the darned thing, yet the day after he trades it for another one, he wishes he still had it.  He knows his truck like the back of his hand.  He knows and understands everything about it, and while he has trouble remembering his wife and children’s birthdays, he remembers part numbers for something he fixed on his truck 2 years ago… And have you ever noticed a broke down log truck on the side of the highway, its driver lying on his back underneath it trying to fix something?  Pretty soon there’s another truck there, and another and another, as many as it takes to get truck number one up and running again.

     There, now you have fairly good idea of why a log hauler is the way he is.  I could go on about the subject, but that would make the newsletter look like a Tom Clancy novel.

That said I must close now as one of my Ham Radio antennas suffered poorly in last week’s wind event, and it needs fixed so once again I can talk to Japan, Korea, and the Philippines.

Until Next Time,

That is all…. Rich T.