LMAOTIMEPRDML
Larry
On Tuesday, September 26, 2000, at 10:46 AM, Graziano, Michael wrote:
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> >From :http://www.roadstaronline.com/2000/08/072a0008.html
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> What A Flashback
>
> By Dave Sweetman
> Contributing Editor
>
> Recalling my initiation into the world of 'shrooms back in 1969.
> I get letters. Some rake me ov er the coals for my slanted view of the
> world, as though a sense of humor is foreign to them. Some are
> complimentary, leading me to believe that perhaps it is the world that's
> slanted and not me.
>
> Some letters ask for direction in how a new driver should aim his career
> goals.
>
> Many newbies want it all right now. Forget paying your dues and working your
> way up the ranks: Some want instant seniority, only the newest and best
> equipment and the gravy runs, all just for showing up. A good gig if you can
> get it, but that's not how the real world of trucking works.
>
> In my case, I learned from the best: Uncle Sam. Joining the U.S. Army at 17
> was one of the best things I could have done, considering that I was too big
> for my britches and headed nowhere with the wrong crowd. 1969 was a turning
> point in many lives, mine included, and for the next three years I learned
> to handle just about everything with wheels as part of an interesting "Olive
> Drab World Tour."
>
> Upon re-entry into civilian life, I found myself armed with a shoebox full
> of awards and decorations, which, along with 25 cents, would get me a cup of
> coffee at Peggy's Truck Stop. Getting a trucking job with one of the big
> carriers was all but out of the question, but I had to start somewhere.
>
> Living in northern Delaware, not far from Kennett Square, PA, you couldn't
> help but notice all the mushroom farms. All those 'shrooms need to get to
> market somehow, so checking with one farm after another, I got lucky and was
> hired on as a driver. With a 3 a.m. start the next morning, I was to be
> "taught the ropes" by senior driver Jesse. A line of International 4070A
> Transtars awaited.
>
> Dark-thirty the next morning, I was ready to roll. Jesse pointed me toward a
> red cabover hooked up to an odd-looking, wire-mesh-sided trailer with a
> rolled-up tarp in the nose. I had no clue but fell in behind Jesse as we
> took off down Route 41 headed for New Jersey. We didn't have CB radios, so
> Charlie Douglas kept me company as WWL Radio New Orleans faded in and out on
> the AM.
>
> Jesse, being the total professional, blinked his trailer lights when
> approaching a red light, making sure the rookie was paying attention.
>
> Just as daylight arrived we pulled into Monmouth Racetrack in central
> Jersey. Snaking between the rows of stables, we came to a stop in front of a
> loader with a claw that made quick work of loading the trailer with hay,
> straw and, uh, slightly used oats that had already been through the horse.
>
> Horse manure! Now I had to ask, "What are we doing here?"
>
> "Stage One of the compost process for making mushroom soil," I was told.
> Truck it back to the yard where it gets mixed with bulk gypsum powder and
> other ingredients to form "Ricks" to ferment, before being taken to the
> farms for the spores to grow into the finished product. Now before you start
> snickering, you should know that this is an important process in the
> mushroom business and without Sea Biscuit's contribution, I would not have
> had a job and thousands of people would not have mushrooms for their salad.
> In my own small way, I felt a minor accomplishment for supplying part of the
> food chain. Besides, I was trucking and it was a paycheck.
>
> The first day on the job nothing ever goes right, and this day was no
> exception. Because the straw was dry, the loader at the racetrack put more
> in the basket trailer than normal, as it would settle in transit. Making our
> way back down the New Jersey Turnpike and over the Delaware Memorial Bridge,
> all bridges had 13 feet, 6 inches of clearance or more and the trailer
> contents cleared easily. Taking the Route 41 cutoff up through Newport was a
> left-hand sweeper that dumped you into a four-lane that quickly narrowed to
> three and then two, just before going under the old railroad bridge at the
> DuPont Plant. Jesse had put me up front so he could keep an eye on the
> rookie, and I thought I was doing pretty well. In my mirrors I watched as an
> impatient motorist in a little Triumph convertible sportscar passed Jesse
> and had to duck in behind my trailer just as the road turned into two lanes.
> Considering the contents of my trailer, I thought him a foolish but brave
> individual with bad sinuses.
>
> As the railroad underpass was at the base of a small hill and the old 238
> Detroit was groaning under the strain, I mashed on the throttle to keep up
> momentum. At least until that 13.6 load hit the 13.2 bridge. You would have
> thought a bomb exploded. There was hay, straw and "road apples," as my
> grandfather used to call them, everywhere. Hitting the four-way flashers and
> the parking brake, I bailed out to survey the situation. Right on my ICC
> bumper was Mr. Convertible Tailgater completely covered in fresh, steaming
> manure. The car was full to the top of the doorjambs and the mesh trailer
> cover draped over him like a pup tent. Jesse sat at the wheel of his rig,
> hands over his eyes, shaking his head.
>
> As if the morning weren't going badly enough, a local Newport town cop, who
> had been sitting on a cross street watching the whole episode, now appeared,
> lights and siren going full tilt. All I could think was, "I hope Barney Fife
> doesn't have a bullet for that gun or I'm dead." Within minutes a city dump
> truck showed up and I was presented with brooms, shovels and a rake and was
> told that if one piece of manure was left on the street, I was going to
> jail.
>
> Barney Fife followed my every step, ignoring the honking car horns and the
> Shadow Traffic helicopter flying overhead. I could tell he secretly wanted
> to lock me up for my sins. I figured explaining to my new cellmate "Bubba"
> what I was in for -- "too much manure" -- would not be good for my health. I
> kept sweeping.
>
> After retarping the trailer, I escaped the threat of jail, Officer Barney's
> single bullet and the wrath of Bubba for trashing his town, and I rolled on
> to the yard. The news of my adventure had preceded me, thanks to Shadow
> Traffic's eye in the sky. I wasn't fired but they wouldn't let me forget it
> for a while. Other drivers would "duck" in the hall to make their point.
>
> I learned a lot in my time in the 'Shroom Biz. Like check your overhead
> clearance. And never , ever tailgate a load of manure if you drive a
> convertible.
>
> Happy trails and seven-thirds, drivers. I'm back out.
>
> Dave Sweetman is a contractor with Horseless Carriage and is RoadStar's
> driver correspondent.
>
>
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> "WSS <Credit Suisse First Boston>" made the following
> annotations on 09/26/00 10:46:30
>
>
>------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> This message is for the named person's use only. It may contain
> confidential, proprietary or legally privileged information. No
> confidentiality or privilege is waived or lost by any mistransmission.
> If you receive this message in error, please immediately delete it and all
> copies of it from your system, destroy any hard copies of it and notify the
> sender. You must not, directly or indirectly, use, disclose, distribute,
> print, or copy any part of this message if you are not the intended
> recipient. CREDIT SUISSE GROUP and each of its subsidiaries each reserve
> the right to monitor all e-mail communications through its networks. Any
> views expressed in this message are those of the individual sender, except
> where the message states otherwise and the sender is authorised to state
> them to be the views of any such entity.
> Unless otherwise stated, any pricing information given in this message is
> indicative only, is subject to change and does not constitute an offer to
> deal at any price quoted.
> Any reference to the terms of executed transactions should be treated as
> preliminary only and subject to our formal written confirmation.
>
>
>
>
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