[VPIDarkAngel]

I don't get in the Christmas spirit much, but I had to do this. Yes, this is the same as my 23rd volume of adventures, for those keeping score on facebook.

'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the land,
Drivers pondered about the loads that were planned.
So I called up the office, I wanted to know,
But dispatch informed me, "A load for you? No."
So I headed east, you know, just in case,
I'd get sent o'er the land, in a wild goose chase.
I walked in the office, where I overheard,
I was being sent to old Williamsburg,
Then West Point, Louisburg, back to the yard,
Surely that load wouldn't be very hard.
I got up at one, then hit the road,
Thankful that it was a rather light load.
At both of the scales, green lights I saw,
Shocked and amazed, I proceeded with awe.
The manager at West Point, he arrived a bit late,
So a nap I took, and cookies I ate.
Louisburg had a surprise to behold,
Feral cats abound, both young and old.
I left the cats be, and drove back to the yard,
Thinking the next load, would be not as hard.
Boy was I wrong! For I did not know,
That trouble was brewing… in an exhaust elbow.
On US-15, the dash it did show,
Service Required, or you'll go really slow.
So derate it did, and pull it did not,
But I finally made it, to that first parking lot.
The freight was unloaded and a tow truck was called,
But my best laid plans had just now been stalled.
A stromboli was ordered, a stromboli I ate,
And all I could do was patiently wait.
Penn Laird Towing showed up soon enough,
To take me to a dealer, and maybe fix this stuff.
To Harrisonburg, o'er the hills we went,
Where two nights in a motel were quietly spent.
The parts would arrive, on Friday, they said,
So I tried to adjust to that stiff motel bed.
The work was finished, I was handed the keys,
And I picked up the trailer, finally free.
"The loads are all covered," dispatch did say,
But I was skeptical, and fast on the way.
In less than ten miles, the phone it did ring,
And I wondered what bad news this message would bring.
At the rest stop I called, anxious to know,
Where this next load would have me go.
North East, Maryland, a mandatory at six,
To which I should've just replied, "Oh fiddlesticks!"
But I figured that I'd take that overnight run,
Even though I knew it wouldn't be fun.
"Get the first stop off, then we'll swap it," they said,
Then after that, you can hug your truck's bed.
Bring his empty home, and rest for a while,
Yet to believe that would be denial.
So I picked up the trailer, checked out the gate,
One ramp was missing, so I'd just have to wait,
For J. R. and Dean to make the repairs,
While they complained about the cold night air.
The liftgate intact, the I was ready to sail,
To the Wilco Hess, and the CAT Scale.
I eased past the fuel pumps, and onto the plate,
And when I got my ticket, it was overweight.
Back to the yard, where I was soon told,
"Rework it yourself, out here in the cold."
Five carts removed, and trailer resealed,
I hoped a legal weight this would reveal.
This time it was legal, I was ready to run,
But I would still find that store before the sun.
I got up to Dumfries, the PrePass lit green,
But the sign said "Scale Closed," 'twas easily seen.
At 5:43, I arrived on that street,
Resisting temptation, of trying to eat.
I finished that stop, and a phone call came in.
"Give Wooten a call. Switch trailers with him."
The switch was done, and I went to bed,
While visions of donuts raced through my head.
My sleep was broken by the sound of the phone,
Which could only mean a longer ride home.
Bill's short on hours, he's sure moving slow,
If his last store carries over, heads surely will roll.
I made plans to meet him, at his second stop,
But I called the third store, beginning to plot.
I told them that he was running behind,
But they said, "No, no way after nine."
It would be later than that, I could easily tell,
And there was just no way that this would end well.
I called up Bill, said "They can't take it tonight,
So you keep the trailer. Call them when it's light."
I knew that I did all that I could,
But there was no way I would stay in that 'hood.
So I headed south, down a near-empty slab.
Rather content, in my Kenworth's cab.
To think I get paid to drive this blue truck,
Maybe, just maybe, I've had some luck.
Back to the yard, then home before light,
Merry Christmas y'all, and have a good night.

[CleeIB]

Well-done! Perhaps the only poem ever written about stromboli (amongst other things). Bravo!

[VPIDarkAngel]

Originally Posted by CleeIB

Well-done! Perhaps the only poem ever written about stromboli (amongst other things). Bravo!

Well, I've not seen any others about strombolis [yet]. However, the 'hood where I was supposed to have gone that night, um, yeah, I had to go there that following Thursday night (Pennsylvania Avenue in Baltimore, for the record).

[CleeIB]

I know what you mean. My brother lives in Baltimore. He likes to go running, and evidently running in/near certain neighborhoods is conducive to significantly improving one's running speed!