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TRIAL BY FIRE

Author: jeffreycoral

A day like any other, I was one of over 465 drivers for a major company in Chicago, and came to work expecting to get my assignment, blast through the day and go home to my swimming pool. Life was good and stress free, and I made the best money of my life doing what I loved, driving the big rigs. That was in the late 70's, when truckers were still kings of the road.

The company had some issues though. The drivers had a rash of mishaps and citations, accidents so bad that we lost some of our friends in serious wrecks. No one knew what the problem was, as everyone was aware and safety conscious. Who could figure. I approached the dispatcher to get my work itinerary when he was called into the main office and there I stood for a half an hour, just getting later by the minute and feeling I would be on overtime this day like it or not.

Finally he came back. I was really glad to see him, I felt he would give me a lighter load due to the delay, as at that company, you unloaded your trailer by hand, one piece at a time until it was empty, even if the skin on your hands didn't quite make it that far. That's why they paid us the big bucks I guess.

The dispatcher handed me the whole pile of itineraries, and started walking away. Confused, I asked him what I should do with all these, and he replied "anything that you want too!" At that he kept walking, got into his car and drove away.

Just about the time I had picked out the sweetest run in the bunch for myself and was writing my name in the dispatch column, the head manager walked up to me. Feeling that I was about to be yelled at for giving myself the best run in the bunch I was trying to justify it with a good reason. Instead, he informed me that the dispatcher had been fired for steeling from the company, and he promoted me to Supervisor and made me the dispatcher too. I asked about training, and he replied that I looked like I knew what I was doing, and to carry on. Brother! Now I was in charge of over 465 drivers!

Don't panic, when the trucks are loaded, find a driver and get it going. Sounds easy enough. As I had all the time in the world to think all of this through, about 35 seconds as everything was now behind for the day, I started thinking about the people that had died, the events that led to drivers being laid off for mishaps and other problems. I felt that I knew what had caused the problems.

And so my first day in management began, and I did my job finding drivers for the runs. Only, something had changed. I changed it. When I gave a run to a driver, I would hold a firm image of the man in my mind. I would hold the intended run in my hand, close my eyes and wait to see what it felt like. If it felt wrong, I would put it down and pick up another run to a different city and do the same as many times as it took until all felt right with the dispatch. Some of the drivers thought I was crazy. Maybe.

There were no mishaps, tickets, wrecks, or incidents that day. I kept doing this ritual, picking up runs and setting them down for different ones if they didn't feel just right. In the coming days, there were still no incidents. And so it was until two months later when the manager called me into the office and asked me what I was doing, that there were no accidents, incidents or anything anymore. I informed him that it was very mystical and that he wouldn't understand. He made me tell him anyway. Funny, but he did understand somehow. My record stands alone, and gives me some contentment.

As I went on to a stellar career for some years, the thought keeps going through my mind, that if I could relive that one moment, would I once again give up my beloved job as a driver and go into management and dispatch and change the course of events for so many good people. Hell no! Not in this life time. Are you kidding me, all that stress and pressure and worry! "Don't do it", I say to myself as if I could hear the words all those years ago. Oh well. I left that life now, and I wonder, could anyone learn to do such a thing to save the drivers, or would they even care.

The Flying Scottsman

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