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truckdriver's girlfriend

Not so Snug as a (Yuck) Bug

Day 2 of attack of the yuck bug.  

This unwelcome intruder has made itself at home, and appears for all intents and purposes to be as snug as a bug in a rug, or in this case one miserable little kitty head...ie, my head! Joy. It has proceeded to flood my nasal and sinus cavities with some sort of alien goop that is just viscous enough to irritate my nose causing a near constant sniffle.  Yet it is congealed enough to resist even the most Herculean nose blowing efforts on my part. 

Surely this thing must be an alien VAMPIRE yuck bug.  No matter how much I sleep it still manage to drain all my energy.  Further, where ever it comes from it must give off helium as a by-product of its bio functions, because my head feels like it's floating in the clouds, which honestly isn't that pleasant of an experience all things considered.  Makes me feel rather woosy and dizzy.  Tom, I said dizzy, not ditzy.

After repeated, and failed attempts to drown this sadistic little bugger with juice and water, then poison him with vitamins, Tylenol, and Benadryl, I admit defeat again tonight.  Maybe tomorrow this alien vampire yuck bug will tire of toying with me and move on to some other poor unlucky target.  For now I am going to sniffle and gasp for air in the darkness while I pray for sleep or some other form of unconsciousness to overtake me.

---Update--

I'm actually on day 4 in this battle against the alien Yuck Bug.  So far it is Yuck Bug 4 - kitty 0. Hope is not lost.  I still have hot tea. Allen bought me some Dayquil to add to my medicinal arsenal. And we were able take a long hot shower today.  Fear not my feline friends, or is it friends of a feline friend? Or... Oh who cares, I'm going back to bed! Yuck Bug wins another round. *sniffle cough hack*

~ Sierra Sugar

Diamond in the Rough - Truck Stop Review

Farris Truck Stop - Big Rigs Restaurant
Faucett, MO
I-29 exit 35


This is the type of place I love to find.  The diamond in the rough.  It's the real truck stop. Sure Love's and TA's are truck stops, but they are the new age, big box truck stops of the "new and improved" world of today.  The REAL truck stops are the time tested and survived, old-fashioned mom & pop type truck stops. The family owned businesses where you are a person, not a number.  Sure maybe everything isn't spic and span clean in some places, but the food and customer service are second to none.  And after a long day on the road, that is exactly what you want.... no need!

Thanks to my favorite app, Trucker Path, we found the Farris Truck Stop just up the road from our delivery location.  We were hot, our AC just went out, and I really didn't feel like cooking in the truck tonight, but a home-cooked meal is something we both needed.  He said he remembered this stop from years ago, just couldn't remember exactly where it was. Yay, Trucker Path!  The reviews of course were mixed, but we looked at the good with the bad, divided down the middle and decided it was still a good call.

The parking lot is huge.  The app claims 75 spaces, and I'd say at least that if everyone parks responsibly.  As I write this it is after 1:00 am and there are still quite a bit of open spaces.  They have a locally certified scale here.  It's not CAT certified scale, but the regulars swear on it's accuracy.  At $7.00 for first weigh and $3.00 for reweigh, if you needed to to get your tandems right for the Missouri chicken houses I'd say it's a fair price to pay for at least "close enough".  They do have fuel here, but no DEF.  I didn't look at the prices as we didn't need fuel this time; however Missouri fuel is by are far cheaper than other states. They also have free Wi-Fi, but at least from the truck it was slow.  It probably works better from inside.

Let's get the bad over with first shall we.  I had to use the ladies room.  To say it was the worst I've been in would be a lie.  I've been in a lot worse, but I've been in a lot better.  The floors were in serious need of a good mopping and the sinks and counters were grimy.  It wasn't that the ladies had trashed the restroom, it just looked as if it hadn't had a thorough scrubbing in quite sometime.  That leaves me to wonder about the condition of their showers, and hotel rooms.  This is not a place I would stop for those amenities unless there were no other options.

The store area was tidy and their prices were favorable.  Many things were marked much less than what you would spend at a chain named truck stop.  Not a huge variety, but a decent selection of foods, snacks, nick-nacks, and truck supplies.  Of course the lady behind the counter was friendly and joked with us as we walked around to stretch our legs after dinner.

Now for the good.  Actually, the really good! The Big Rig Restaurant is part of the truck stop. It's a pretty good size inside, and of course broken up into sections.  There is a driver section that also appears to be a "smoking" section.  I believe the laws in Missouri still allow for smoking in restaurants, where many states have elected to ban that practice.  We sat far away from that area so the few smoking did not bother us.  The restaurant was clean, the booths comfortable.  And they have real, REAL sweet tea.  Granted these days I have to mix mine half sweet, half unsweet due to medications, but oh it was still so good!  Our waitress was prompt and friendly.  The food arrived freshly cooked to order and hot.  To say it was delicious would be an understatement. We both got the special of the day, a guilty pleasure.  A breaded and fried pork tenderloin with homemade mashed potatoes and creamy gravy with lots of pepper!  The tenderloin filled the entire plate, and the gravy nearly overflowed!  Our waitress made sure to fill our tea and checked on us several times, but in a courteous way without being intrusive to our meal and or conversation.

While we were eating I witnessed something truly touching.  There was an elderly couple who had just finished their meal.  The man was using a walker and the lady a cane.  When they got up to leave two of the young waitress came over from where they were standing to help them both all the way out to their car.  Good hearted, down home, old fashioned, real genuine, customer service with a smile!  Kudos to Big Rig for hiring such attentive staff and to these young girls' parents for raising them with manners and caring.

This is a place I plan to keep on our must stop at again list.  You take the good with the bad. It's old.  It's unique.  It's a diamond in the rough. These are the real truck stops, the ones that cater to truckers, that have been around for ages.  These are the ones that we as truckers need to show our support to so they can stay in business.  I plan on writing them a thank you letter for the excellent meal and customer service with a little friendly, gentle encouragement to try to pay closer attention to the ladies room.  Lets help build these places up instead of letting them continue to become run down!

Tired, FULL, & ready to relax


~Sierra Sugar

The Trucker Path (pampered) Puppy


Missy the pampered #TruckerPath puppy.


8:30am call time meant getting up at 5:30am for tea, coffee, getting dressed, pretrip inspection of the truck, and of course walking the four-legged, furbaby, Missy.  We had an hour and a half drive from New Braunsfel to a ranch west of Austin by the name Raimer Ranch for the filming of the Trucker Path commercial. We had to roll before I could do my makeup, so that was done on the road.  Did you know it's not easy sitting on the bunk in the back trying to put on makeup while he drives down a two-lane Texas back road, up and down hills, with bumps curves, and switchbacks?  It's amazing I didn't exit the truck looking like a clown! But our interview was first in the morning, so you do what has to be done.  Plus they wanted picturesque shots and video of our truck throughout the day all the way up through sunset.  It was going to be a long day.  


A long hot day in the Texas August heat.


Usually the heat doesn't bother us, or the dog too much.  The truck has a good AC. Even when we sit for a while we keep it idling with the AC and fans going.  Texas heat is arid, dry, and not humid like Florida. But at 115 degrees you don't need humidity to feel the heat.  Today we knew he and I would have to suff... endure the heat at least.  Missy would maintain her usual spot snoozing on the bed in the comfort of the air-conditioned truck.


Arriving on set early the crew was just setting up for lights and sound. We met the director Gina and the assistant Director Zane.  Then we were informed due to sound the truck would need to be shut off throughout most of the day.  We were told, however, not to worry, they had a cool place for Missy to stay.


This cool place turned out to be her very own 28 foot travel trailer complete with air-conditioner already cranking.  


The DOG had her VERY OWN trailer!  Talk about PAMPERED!  


The talent and crew were in a shaded garage with fans.  Fans.  But the 20 pound dog was escorted to her own private trailer to relax and snooze all day in cool and comfort.  Periodically, people would go check on her, pet her, take her for a walk, make sure her water was fresh.  Oh and when the filming was done the entire crew just HAD to come love on her.  

Next I expect her to start demanding for filet mignon treats and a golden collar. Maybe her own star on Hollywood Blvd? But no, she didn't let the pampering go to her fuzzy little head. She continues to snore all day in the truck sucking up the AC and hogging the bed.  That's my little Missy girl and I wouldn't have her any other way. She deserves all the pampering she can get!


Thank you to both the production company, Region C, and to  Trucker Path for everything you've done for Allen and I, but also for treating my little puppy like the pampered superstar that she is to me.


~Sierra Sugar

Truckers it's time to #FixTrucking

#Trucking link and hash tag courtesy of Trucking Social Media



Last night we pulled off to get fuel, but trucks were backed up onto the road and couldn't get into the truck stop.  Come to find out it wasn't the the fuel lanes that were full, it was a truck that was broken down right at the entrance. The driver was on the CB asking for help, no one was answering.  There were a good six trucks between us and the guy in trouble.  Allen started talking to the guy on the CB while we found another way to the fuel island.  I ran inside to let the fuel desk know they had a truck broken down outside.  Apparently, no one else had alerted them.

After we fueled up Allen went over to physically help the poor guy with his truck.  He had a CAT motor that was completely out of fuel.  He didn't know about priming the fuel system or using ether for the air filter.  He wanted to pour diesel directly into the air filter like a carbirator on an old car. He didn't even know where the filter was.  Allen managed to get him moved out of the way after two bottles of ether.

How is this relevant to the article below?  All the trucks behind the guy who were stuck were ignoring him on the CB.  They never got out to see if he needed help.  They were sitting in their trucks playing on their tablets or talking on their phones.  The one who did get out only came over with a nasty attitude and a nastier mouth, cussing and yelling at him to get out of the way.

No one knows how to work on their rigs any more.  No one wants to learn how to fix anything.  No one wants to help anyone.  No one has any common courtesy or patience any more. Every one wants to be Mr. Billy Badass super trucker.  Well let me tell you, by doing that all you succeed in doing is bringing yourself and the entire industry down! 

Please people take some time to learn your equipment.  It is your livelihood.  If you can't fix it, don't drive it! Help one another. Talk to one another. Be considerate. Be kind. Show some common courtesy.  Use common sense.  Look out for each other. Let's be the professionals and the brotherhood and sisterhood... essentially the family we are supposed to be.

~Sierra Sugar


http://truckingsocialmedia.com/time-is-now-to-fix-trucking/

A Pleasant Night on the Pennsylvania Turnpike


The sun was low and the soft white clouds stretched across a dusky blue sky.  The wind had died down significantly from the gusts of the afternoon to a gentle cool caress.  So many times out on the road we are confined to the cab of the truck.  Miles and miles to run as the clock counts down.  "Hurry up, go." it says, "hurry up and get there."  But last night it was quiet.  Last night there was no rush.  We were out on the road, somewhere in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania without a care in the world. No load to rush to.  No clock taunting us.  No highway teasing us.  Just he and I and a peaceful evening breeze blowing through the open windows of the truck.

"Let's turn the truck off and go sit outside," he says.  "Do you want to?"  It should have been a rhetorical question.  The weather was so perfect why would anyone want to stay cooped up inside?  After dinner we took the four-legged fur baby for a long walk all around the perimeter of the large parking area of the turnpike travel plaza.  She ran and pranced and had a furry good time.  The wind whisked through the long white strands of her tail making it look like a flag waving in the breeze.  By the time we got back to the truck she was ready for some water and a soft spot to curl up for a nap.

After fixing some hot chai tea, grabbing my laptop and my jacket, he and I headed out to the front of the travel plaza where there were some wire mesh table and chairs. You are probably thinking sitting outside a busy travel plaza on a turnpike would be neither relaxing nor romantic.  When you are confined to 73" of space day in and day out, any change of environment is a pleasant change of pace.  

We sat and and watched the setting sun against the rolling hills of the Pennsylvania landscape.  The cool breeze was a wonderful change from the scorching heat we are used to this time of year in Florida.  No pesky bugs or humidity to intrude on the evening.  I sipped my hot tea and worked on an article I had been procrastinating on for weeks.  He had a soda and looked through a magazine.  Every once in a while the distinctive sound of good old-fashioned jake brakes coming through un-muffled straight pipes would get our attention and we'd look up to watch, or drool, as the beast rolled by.

We talked about our dream truck.  We talked about our near future plans.  We talked about long-term future plans.  We whispered sweet nothings and blew kisses in the soft winds.  It was fully dark before we headed back to the truck.  My article was complete and we were both completely refreshed and relaxed.

Its the little things that matter.  Spending time together matters.  Getting out together, even if it is just at a picnic table at a travel plaza.  Anywhere is somewhere special, as long as the person you are with is special to you.

~Sierra Sugar

Mema's Magic Refrigerator

Fridge and microwave next to the bed in our 73" sleeper.
Mema's magic refrigerator.

My mother's mother lived in northern Mississippi. They had 86 acres of farm land, so there was always an abundance of food, especially veggies. She had a deep freezer, a  second small refrigerator, and a magic refrigerator with an unending hole in the back.

No matter how many left overs we had, or fresh fruit, or gallons of tea getting cold, or any number of things needing to go in the fridge there was always room. More to the point, she alone knew the magic combination to open that vast hole mysteriously cloaked in the back of that old fridge. Nothing ever had to be thrown away that was still edible. And no matter how many groceries she came home with from the commissary, she always found room for it all.

This magical legacy has been passed down to me. Even with the tiny dorm fridge we have in the truck with a freezer smaller than a mailbox, that magically hidden hole opens for me allowing me to find a place for everything that needs chilling. Gallon of creamer? Sure. Milk, 2 types of deli cheese, butter, cream cheese, deli meats, tortillas, condiments, sodas, fruits, and veggies? No problem. A whole pot roast, beef tips, ground beef, ground pork, chicken breasts, frozen spinach and peas?  Sure thing!  Left overs? Pudding? Candy? Chicken salad? Juice? Yogurt? Ricotta? Mozzarella? Eggs? Bacon? Apple sauce? More? I can make it fit with room to spare!

This gift is a god-send while we are over the road.  A big truck, even with a 73" sleeper, has limited space. Every inch is valuable and utilized. Eating out all the time is expensive and unhealthy. I love my little fridge and other appliances that allow me to cook more meals than not while we are on the road. He drives all day, in all weather conditions. This way I can always have fresh food to fix him a nourishing hot meal at the end of the day.

Thank you Mema, for passing down this witchery, this magical heritage, the unending refrigerator hole!

~sierra

Mountain Snow, Deer, and Anxiety


Last week while night driving through the western part of Idaho there was a range of mountains ahead of us that was covered in snow.  It was later in the afternoon, closer to early evening.  The sun hadn't quite set yet, so the sky had that bluish haze of dusk that makes things seem magical and surreal.  While my picture doesn't do justice to the actual site I saw ahead of me, hopefully you can get a little bit of an idea.  We have all heard about mountains being blanketed in snow.  Indeed these appeared that way, blanketed in a shimmery layer of whitish/bluish satin.

Of course cooler weather and snow at these elevations brings creatures of all sorts down from the mountain tops.  This created an up-close encounter that was slightly less exhilarating than the Bald Eagles from the other day.  Rounding a curve there straddling the center line was a mule deer.

A giant female mule deer.

The top of her head must have come at least as high as the hood of our big truck.  There was no where to go, and she was in no hurry to go anywhere.  Thank goodness he was driving because my brain froze.  The only thing I could do was put my feet on the dash (don't laugh) and say “Baby! Baby! Baby! Baby!” over and over again like a record with a scratch stuck in repeat.  With his many years experience of driving his reaction was much calmer and productive.  Thankfully, he was able to slow enough to give the mammoth doe time to make up her mind that yes, she did want to get out of the road.  I watched as she casually trotted off to the snowy grass on the other side and he went around her.

Heart pounding, stomach churning, I spent the rest of the night curled up in the sleeper.  I will never forget that deer, her eyes, her size, and the fear of hitting her or sliding off the side of the mountain.  Thankfully, I will also never forget the beauty seen just a little while before of the satiny mountaintops.  And I am so very thankful for his calm handling of our fully-loaded, nearly 80,000lb truck in that sticky situation.

If anyone ever thinks driving a big truck is a skill-less trade that anyone can do better think again!  It takes a calm mind, quick thinking, rational though, quick and steady reflexes. And lots of road, equipment, land, and animal knowledge to successfully survive out here across America's highways.

~sierra

The Great Pacific Ocean

[For daily updates, more pictures, and humor follow me on Facebook and Twitterer (different content posted to each)  https://m.facebook.com/sierra.sugar ]


“Are those the waves?!”  I exclaimed as we came around a bend in the trail and the shrubbery opened up to the expanse of damp beach sand.  He could only laugh at me, which is his usual reaction to my apparently amusing expressions upon discovering something new.

This was my first view of the Pacific Ocean.


Growing up in Florida, with parents born and raised in Key West, the ocean is no strange sight to me.  Where most kids grew up having their yearly growth measured against a mark on a wall, my parents recorded my growth via video as I played on the beach and my ever increasing adventure as I interacted with the waves.  But just as the Florida Atlantic coast is different from the Gulf coast, the Pacific coast is also vastly different from anything I had ever seen before.

The water was darker color and the waves, even on a calm day furiously crashed in rows and rows back into the cold Pacific waters.  You don't see waves like that in Florida unless a hurricane is blowing.  The shore was 100 yards easily, if not more, of wet sand with tiny little streams of water left from the receding tide.  That means the tidal change on the Pacific coast is MASSIVE compared to the East coast.  Talk about rip tides and undercurrents!  I can only imagine that swimming in these waters during a tidal change could be a challenge even for an experienced swimmer.

Another thing I noticed is that the air was not as salty.  When you get close to the beach in Florida the air is filled not only with the smell of sea salt, but you can quite literally feel it on your skin.  A day at the beach, even if you aren't in the water, will leave your skin and hair with a coating of salt.  I guess because the Pacific is so much larger in water volume, the salinity is significantly less than that of the Atlantic or Gulf.

That morning I woke with the tightness in my chest that signals the onset of a massive anxiety attack or mood swing filled with mania and rage.  What a day to set out on an adventure, right?  As always, he was calm and patient with me, forever understanding.  We walked around on the beach letting the dog run and play (on her leash) while I picked up shells and just marveled at the view.  After the hike through the trails of the state park and an hour out at the beach, my whole being felt calm and happy.  I have always said the beach is my safe place, my place of grounding and peace.  And this particular day was a perfect example how going to the beach can significantly turn around an anxiety attack and manic swing.  The rest of the day and drive was spent with smiles and love, and lots of planning for future trips to the Seattle area.  Looking forward to the spring when he takes me horse-back riding on the beach!



Water marker for flood/tsunami waters. 0.o !!
~sierra




Majestic Flagstaff

[For daily updates, more pictures, and humor follow me on Facebook and Twitterer (different content posted to each)  https://m.facebook.com/sierra.sugar ]


When I was in the 5th grade my parents and I went on a two-week trip from Florida to Albuquerque, NM, with a short trip over to Flagstaff, Arizona.  I don't remember much from that entire trip except the backseat of the Oldsmobile car my parents had at the time.  You see, the morning we left they woke me up to leave, I took two steps into the garage to get in the car and threw up.  And that was pretty much my entire trip.  I spent it sick in the backseat.

I vaguely remember stops in Texas, in New Mexico at the Carlsbad Caverns, the Grand Canyon, and even one day when my dad tried to take me snow skiing at Flagstaff, the mountain for which the city is named.  The only thing I remember about that morning is vomiting copious amounts of orange juice.  It seemed more than any 9 year old little girl's body could ever possibly hold.  My dad turned around and took me back to the hotel to stay with my mother.  I don't even remember seeing the mountain, or snow, or anything.

The other morning Allen woke me up with hot coffee and kisses.  “Baby time to get up, we're near Flagstaff and I want you to see everything.”  There at the truck stop I could see the mountain rising out of the flatland, sitting there like a snow-capped crown on a pillow of brown and green velvet.  I took some pictures but it was still so far away.


 As we drove, I kept taking pictures.  And driving and taking pictures.


And more driving and taking more pictures.  Distance is deceiving when you're out in the middle of desert land.  We drove for 80 miles with the mountain ever creeping closer yet still out of reach.


When we finally got to the base of Flagstaff it was more breathtaking than I could have imagined.


I tried to remember anything from my childhood, but sadly no images could be recalled.  I tried to imagine my dad skiing down the snow covered lanes towering so high above me.  I remember dad telling me his ski instructor looked just like John Denver.  As we drove around the mountain all I could do was smile and watch in wonder, my heart swelling with love for this man I share my life with.  One amazing experience after another, day by day, mile by mile, he is showing me the world.  I may not have many childhood memories but I am making uncountable new ones with him.  And that is what love, life, and happiness is all about.

~sierra