Truck Driving School

The CDL school I visited in Priceville, Alabama. A Super 8 motel room would be my home for the next three weeks. I do not know what to expect on the first day, but I met a wide spectrum of personalities in the other students. The offer included a Mississippi farm boy with a middle school a retired software engineer with a master's degree. It was an Ebony giant named Steve, who as an offensive lineman for the New England Patriots, saw his film, aRail-thin man named Ray. There was also Mike, from North Carolina who had worked in the computer field in some capacity, but seemed always bitter because of the "sinks" into training for a truck career. And of course there was the man who "has everything" and for which, at least from his perspective, this school was a mere formality. Despite the different backgrounds and personalities, everyone here had at least one thing in common: each person having a better life foror, he sought his life back on track from a previous accident. So it was no surprise when developing a camaraderie quickly for most of us.

I quickly became friends with Alan, the former software engineer. Alan was fired from his job, engineering, and at 54, he was having difficulty, suitable employment in the territory of a young man. Like Alan, I had a lot depends on the success of this new venture. After the costs of the transition from New York to Alabama andthe cost of the CDL school and my motel, my savings were rapidly disappearing. If this trucking thing has not worked out, I was screwed. But Alan and I were not the only ones who had put our chips "all in" on this page. The man from Mississippi, said that he had pulled the stereo out of the car and sold it to a rest area to have gas money obtain Priceville.

As is so often the case, most of us together and helped to alleviate the concerns of ourPossibly through the laughter and jokes. Steve was the greatest actor of all, both literally and figuratively. Steve wore a perpetual smile, and the giant clown was the rare kind of person whose mere presence tends to lift his spirits. He was always a joy to be around and he usually always laughing all except Mike, who maintained a sour look on the world.

The format of the training school has us in the classroom during the first week to prepare for the written tests andthe next two weeks the road led training for the driving part of the test. I was not too worried about the written tests, but I was very concerned about the testing involved in the street. This could have potential as a worm in my apple, but I was determined to give it my best.

The classroom teacher was a rotund, middle-aged man named Ron. He boasted of many years of over-the-road experience, and although he is not the most entertaining instructors in the world, they were soonbecame clear that he had probably forgotten, would know more about trucks than most of us ever. Thanks to the experience of Ron's, 10 of the 15 students passed the written tests at the first attempt. Three of them have for the second time around, and make the other two for a third attempt, but after everyone had passed in the class. Now it was time to drive the truck. Oh boy ...

Alan and I joked nervously in the fresh morning air, the big day. Alan was a transplant from England and,although in the United States for sixteen years he had not lost one iota of his Cockney accent. When he was aggravated or nervous, rather his accent even more pronounced, sometimes to the point where I would find it difficult to understand him. This morning I did not need to understand it. We were both nervous, but at the same time, we were excited about the new challenge ahead of us. We would be spending the first few days in the yard, learning support and a linear 45 degree angleSupport.

The instructor in the yard before the sun had fully risen, and we waved him to the number of trucks accession into the yard. The rank of about a dozen trucks were often old and dilapidated, long-nosed Freightliner, Volvo, but presumably, they all worked. It reminded me of the old battle-tested warrior who should rest in retirement, but were recalled to active duty for one last battle.

The teacher was James, who was a little younger than Ron,but their shoulders were slightly bent, as if he'd been had with a concrete block before his arrival. He had a cookie-duster mustache monotone and spoke in a nasal, which I am pleased that I had taken a lot of coffee in the morning. James, as we would discover, had a tendency to talk about breasts of women. He has not just talk about mind you, he analyzed them, the shape, size, feel the texture, the smell, the "rating system", the color, the rounding of the court, theSmoothness, the pear-shaped ones, the apple-shaped ... well, the picture. At first, the milk-thinking James was funny and entertaining, but after a while it seemed a little scary start. It was clear that he was obsessed with the glorious globes. I admit that I have an understanding of female breasts myself, but they are rarely an issue in one of my regular talks suspended. James spoke of breasts, as if he were talking casually about the weather. Whatever the casecan, our teacher was James, and I hoped fervently that he had more knowledge to give to us as the most likely way to "Titty City" in Nevada.

After about half an hour of verbal instructions, got James in the old white Volvo and shot the engine. The roar of the diesel engine drowned out the sounds of the morning when she was declared the ruler of his domain. Even Steve was standing next to the rumble of tiny white giants. James drove the car betweentwo rows of orange cones and told us that we would be learning a linear support today. He then pointed right at me and asked me to remind him my name.

"Rick," I said.

"Okay, Rick," James grinned, "you're the first Jump In!"

I got into the car rolls with anxiety, while some of the students wished me good luck, and others were betting on how many cones I too bruised. James climbed out the window and shouted a reminder to me of the noise of thunderMotor, "Steer into your trouble ... if the trailer is right-right turn when the trailer is left on the left to steer." He climbed out of the vehicle and left me on the job. The old Volvo shook with authority, as it were a rodeo bull eager to dismount me in less than eight seconds. The mirrors were vibrating so violently that I could not see the cones, she appeared as an orange blur.

I took a deep breath and began my walk back. Surprisingly, I was able toto negotiate the 100-meter course without hitting any cones, but it was not long to discover, to be noted that this was more difficult than it seemed in theory. If I were to go to another hundred meters, there is no doubt that I would have killed a few cones. In the next few days I got more practice and won a little more confidence. Then I was introduced to the bane of my existence: 45 ° angle support.

Almost everyone is at 45 ° angle abysmal support for the start and I was no exception. Ihad a submarine of the U.S. Navy and had been made an award for her work as a helmsman / planesman while an expedition to the Arctic ice in 1981. I steered the boat through the shallow, ice-covered waters on a daily basis without a sweat. So, it aggravated me no end that the task seemed to support these trucks between those stupid cones so impossible for me. But I was not the only one with problems. Alan also try to resort to mathematical solutions,crack this riddle, but it did not seem to help from us.

The "guy who knows everything" was amusing, one of the worst in the class. I can not remember his name, and I'll call him "Douchebag". Douchebag accused the equipment, the fault of the teachers for teaching him bad habits, and made the setup of the course. It was not have been his lack of ability, for he was God's gift to the container transport. Douchebag insisted that if they allowed him to design the course, he had allTransformation into a Super trucker within a week. Be had at this time saw Douchebag as "comic relief" and not as a mentor.

In truth, the securing of a large truck is more art than science. The only way to improve is through sheer repetition. Unfortunately, there is a limited amount of time and facilities for testing on the street outside our practice. Concern began to arise in some of the students. We did not want to see how we could be ready in time.

Enter Pat Pat was another courtTeacher, a petite middle-aged woman with short blond hair and a powerful presence. Pat was a veteran of the road and traveled with her faithful companion, a terrier named hybrids postcode.

"I gave him the name because he's been in every zip code," says Pat

She said that the course was set up in the yard, exactly the same way that it would be for the exam. Then she pulled a Joe Namath moment out of the hat:

"We have done this week and the week of hundreds ofStudents, and I guarantee you that I have for the test will be. "

She seemed so confident and assured that I do not write their words out as fury, I believe her. True to her word, she started showing us some tricks, the immediate results. The "trick" has shown us that they are not in the least likely to try in a real situation, in a dock in a crowded shippers back helped, but it helped immensely to learn to set the proper angle on thisparticular course to get the trailer in between the cones.

This brings a point. A three-week truck-school is getting essentially a boot camp to one CDL. Given the short time frame, the student was stuffed with the essential knowledge to pass the test to ... Period. There is no perfect time to refine or one of the basic skills that have been introduced. Make no mistake, a student fresh out of the CDL school is not in any way be prepared on the way to an 18-wheeler. Therefore, toa job his first company, a new driver will spend 6-8 weeks with a certified trainer before he's up on his own cut. The role of a CDL school is to bring a student up to scratch to be a CDL test ... that's it.

In the meantime, we had to go in groups of four with other teachers on a thin line in Decatur, Alabama to learn to ride as the 10-course shift.

Donny was the first teacher of the comedy of errors endure from my group. Donny was arelaxed country boy with robust features that appeared behind the wheel of an 18-wheeler, as natural to him as putting the pants in the morning. Donny was as cool as a cucumber, and never worn by one of our beginner's mistake. For the first few days there instead of more loops in the truck than in a Starbucks factory.

Another instructor, I rode with Rick was a black compact and muscular man with an energy level that is only for people who could competeby Richard Simmons, though Rick was not nearly as annoying as Richard. Rick would earn the nickname "Boom Boom" because that was his method of teaching gear shift for the right time to:
"Okay, get ready-BOOM! Get ready-BOOM!" Boom Boom forwarded countless road stories to us, and he was one of my favorite instructors to ride with.

Finally, at the time had come to take the test on the road. We would go in small groups to the test facility in Hartselle in the next 5Day. I should be testing on the second day, and Alan would be the fourth test. Everyone was nervous, so I think that Alan needs only laugh when he approached Douchebag and asked: "Do you, will you come?"
I know I'm going! "Douchebag boasted proudly.
Douchebag not on the first two attempts.

The test would consist of four parts: First, would give the student an oral explanation of a control of the truck and trailer, would be nextstraight-line support, then, 45-degree angle support and finally on the road with the assessment of the officer.

On my test day, accompanied the little Ray and another student named Jerome me. Jerome was missing most of his front teeth, but that did not stop him from flashing a charming smile. He had poignant circumstances here and I was in his corner rooting for him. The gossip among the teachers, but does not provide him with a snowball chance in hell of passing. OnJerome smiles that day was missing, and he was nervous, almost trembling to the point. It helped break down some of my stress while I was offered the promotion, as well as I was him.

Ray was the first test and despite the fact that he was barely tall enough to reach to the pedals, he was able to pass on his first attempt. Next was Jerome. Pat was the teacher who had accompanied us, and they did not seem optimistic. Jerome, however, the increased opportunity and shocked everyone. He got whatwould be up to the highest score of anyone in the class.

"I did not see that coming," is all that could be said Pat.

Now it was my turn. We had gone two for two today, and I certainly wanted to keep intact the Strip. I breezed through the control, because Alan and I had each other mercilessly drilled on this until we are down cold. Straight-line support does not prove to be a problem. Then it was time for the dreaded 45 degree angle support. Having set my heart a fewBlows, I have the way that Pat had showed us, and I slowly maneuvered the trailer between the cones. It was perfect! I was dead center perfect! My confidence was rising now, as I got to see that my supporters in the first row, which was the note. But I thought I was back again a little closer to the cone, could improve my score. I climbed back into the car and drove a little. I got to watch my master, to know that I had only sent my guestsinto the stratosphere.

My life flashed before my eyes in horror when I read the rearmost taper horizontally, as if it had observed fought around a cone with a Brunswick out of the hands of Walter Ray Williams Jr., I saw the officer with an imploring appeal but , with the cone lie like a dead duck, he had no other choice than me in the lurch.

I was devastated. I moped off the road and sat down with his head in my hands. Our roles reversed, Jerome came to offerEncouragement. I was mad at myself because it's my ego that I was doomed to failure. I was just trying to "run the score." I do not deserve it, and I knew it. Jerome I would not let myself feel sorry though for long.

"Git up and go take that motherbleeper again!" He said. "Motherbleepin I know you can do it an 'I'm gone kick yo' book, if you're not going to bear that motherbleeper again! "
His words were blunt, simple, and to the point. I decided to go andbear that motherbleeper again.

This time I collected myself and left my ego at the door. I backed the trailer between the pin and went from 3 or 4 times to assess my progress. When the rear of the trailer was over in the first line, I looked at the officer and asked: "Is it over?"
He could not hide an amused grin as he said: "Yes, it's over. Do you want to go for a higher score?"

"No, sir!" I said with conviction.

The road test went well andafter the emotional roller coaster ride of the day I could sleep peacefully now I had passed.