I was 19 years old when I was broke in on a logging truck. After about three weeks drivin’ an old Hayes, I figured I was the best damn, gear-smasher in the province of British Columbia. Maybe even the best in North America, you know how it is when you're young.
I left the log dump this one morning, trailer loaded, going back to the side for another load. I had the old truck wound out on the governor. I was changing gears, double clutching, split shifting, like a demon possessed. I rounded a corner, missed a shift, picked the shift back-up, ducked down through a sunken culvert and slid into a turn around. The turn around was five hundred feet from the log loader. There was another truck being loaded, at the side, so I poured a cup of coffee and pulled a book, a Playboy magazine, out from under the jump seat. I’m thinking I’m really lovin this job drivin truck, instead of them snarly old chokers I’d be setting for the next fifteen years.
As I'm reading my book, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the Superintendent in his pick-up driving up the haul road, toward my truck. I put the book away and leaned back in the seat with my eyes closed playing Mr. Cool.
The Superintendent drove into the turnout beside me and got out. I was watching him in the mirrors as he walked around my truck. He kicked the tires, looked under the truck, looked up at the stakes. Finally he walked up beside the cab and spoke to me.
“How is the truck drivin’ comin’ along, young fulla?” said the Super.
“Really good, I just love drivin’ truck,” I said, sippin a drink of cookhouse coffee.
“You aren't missing something are you, young fella?” said the Super.
“No I don't think so,” I said.
“How about you're trailer? Which is sitting on its side in the ditch about a thousand yards down the road?” I jumped from the truck seat to the road and looked up and sure enough I didn't have my trailer on board. I must have lost it when I blew a shift down the haulroad, by the culvert. The Super walked calmly back to his pick-up, climbed in and drove off down the haulroad toward camp.
After the other truck was loaded, the loader operator walked the log loader down to where my trailer was lying. He picked it out of the ditch with the grapple and placed it back on my truck. I slowed my wild truck drivin’ down quite a bit after that performance.
