CHAPTER 29
(Company Authorizes the kidnapping of my wife Jill)
June 29, 2018 @ 14:00 J-Hooks lot North Little Rock AR.
A strange number from Louisiana was calling my cellphone and asking for a security code.
I answered on the second ring. "Hello"
The older sounding man didn't identify his name but I knew I was in good hands when he stated that he was a relay driver from Celadon.
"Hey I'm trying to start your rig so I can pull it out and take your load. This thing won't start I guess there's some kind of code?"
I was sitting just two miles away from him Indian style on a comfortable bed at a hotel.
"Yeah ya have to push in 116 first and make sure the key is turned halfway before you do it or it won't start."
"Oh, okay. I've never seen a security box like this my truck doesn't have one."
"Yeah I know. That's because my truck is an older truck they used to use for expensive tobacco loads so the truck won't get stolen. It's a real pain in the ass cuz if you go out to slide the tandems for a minute you have to re-enter the code or it shuts off."
"Oh, ok. Hey I got it started. Are these the bills on the passenger seat?"
"No. Those are older ones from other loads. I put the bills in the nose box like we always do."
I was getting utterly confused. Why did the company give out my cellphone number without my consent first? Don't they know about the policy other trucking companies have about that seeking permission first?
The old man from Louisiana continued. "Well hey I got to get going hopefully they get your tractor fixed soon."
I giggled. "Are you kidding me? Just a month ago they took an entire week to fix something simple that probably wasn't broken in the first place. I'm quite certain they are intentionally shutting down my tractor remotely. I put up a fuss cuz it's supposed to be my home time now so they purchased me a bus ticket so I'm not stuck waiting another week. I'm getting an apartment this weekend."
He grunted. "Well okay then. Best of luck with that I gotta get rolling."
*CLICK*
I sat on my bed at the hotel for a while and tried to process everything that just happened. I was quite certain that a genuine garage bill for tractor 549797 would never ensue. Celadon knew that I was auditing them and I believed they were retaliating by making me extremely uncomfortable by remotely turning off my tractor again so I would assume it was broken. Celadon is the third company to participate in these reindeer games as I was able to prove Western Express had done the same thing too causing me to quit because it was 20 degrees out and they wanted to turn my rest breaks into some kind of sick twisted game. The Kochy Monster wanted to take it a step further and control my CB radio, my FM radio, and crank up the heated driver's seat as well for good measure. I'll never forget how frustrated I was with my back covered in soaked sweat due to their ignorance. But how could I possibly PROVE anything? Would I not get in trouble if I took the truck apart looking for "funny wiring"? All this remote weirdness had ensued after I published the book "Rise Of The Fuglies" in November of 2016. I had concluded that evidently these Billy Big Rigging companies were shadowing my work and learning about new technology. I've always had an inventive mind just never the money or resources to build. I've never felt that those M.I.T boys that built robots were any smarter than me just more blessed with resources.
Just two minutes after Mr. Louisiana hung up the phone my hotel room phone (Not my cellphone) started ringing vibrantly.
This is all just too weird! I thought to myself, Why had the hotel refused to accept my cellphone number and insisted on calling me via the hotel phone?
"Hello?" I said cautiously.
"Oh hey the shuttle is ready to take you over to your tractor now so you can get the rest of your stuff."
I looked over at my blue back pack perched in the corner of the bed. This whole scenario seemed rather weird. It had been weird since yesterday early morning when I was convinced a dispatcher named "Trish" was purposely shutting my tractor off just seconds after I would start it up. Even with my foot on the accelerator it was turning off before I could get the pressure up on the air brakes to put it in gear. I was sure to mention to Kathy that these very same symptoms happened at the BP a month ago when the tractor completely shut off on I-495 in Baltimore causing me to lose my power steering. Even though my dispatcher Kathy was a woman I was beginning to sense she was mechanically smart enough to figure out something was amiss and encouraged me to start documenting things.
How do you convince somebody that you believe someone is remotely pushing your buttons without having that person think you are crazy? Was my life turning into a real life Shutter Island mystery all because of writing that book Rise Of The Fuglies?
I was ready to go in less than two minutes. A big white hotel shuttle van was ready to drive me the two and a half miles up the road to the J-Hooks impound lot where my tractor had been towed. Just yesterday the tow truck driver was pointing out how after we towed my tractor 11 miles the tractor was still idling by the time we reached the J-Hooks lot. So how was that even possible if the tractor was programmed to shut off after every four minutes? How had it idled incessantly for an eleven mile trip?
I knew the bloody reason why. Because I had HAD BEEN RIGHT ALL ALONG. The overseers back in Indy assumed the tractor was being driven because all they would notice is a little blue dot moving along the map. The tow truck driver started my tractor before we towed it to the impound lot and there was just no bloody way we could have traveled eleven miles in under four minutes. That meant something REALLY stunk. I had caught this Sell-A-Ding-Dong company red handed concerning some foul play. And I had the tow truck driver as my material witness!
I gleaned that the Hispanic woman that drove me in the shuttle van also worked at the hotel. Because my occupation involves traveling so much, these big trucking companies get discounted corporate rates from the hotels where they often only have to pay $40 a night verses the $110.00 a night like other first time guests.
Christian music blared in the big white van as I deduced that was the music of her choice. I had already determined in my mind that this lady had children already by the way she carried herself. She appeared curious about me.
"So how are things going at Celadon?" She asked.
"Not good. These people owe me quite a substantial amount of money. I was supposed to have a meeting on the 19th last month with the operations manager but the company stonewalled me."
The shuttle driver didn't seem too surprised. "So are you getting another job?"
"If they don't fix these pay issues yes. I've already been cleared for hire at Big G Express. Big G has nicer equipment and diesel powered APUs so I can be the one controlling the thermostat in there."
The van made a right turn. "Oh I didn't know that they could do that. Hey you ever heard of a company called SWIFT?"
I giggled. I knew ALL about what truckers said about THAT company. "Yes I've heard of them. They're the ones that truckers always complain about taking their half hour breaks on the fuel islands so nobody can fuel. I think they have more YOUTUBE videos shaming them than anyone else."
"So you drove for them?"
I giggled even harder. "Heh nope. They wouldn't ever hire me cuz of my criminal background imagine that. Been trucking almost four years no accidents and can't even get a job at SWIFT. Ya know what SWIFT stands for? SURE WISHED I FINISHED TRUCKING SCHOOL."
The shuttle lady driver chuckled. "Well I would advise you to stay away from them. You wouldn't BELIEVE what they did to this one poor helpless girl that came through."
Before my shuttle driver could get into her whole harangue about the ignorance of SWIFT we arrived at the J-Hooks impound lot where my tractor sat. Prior to my tractor being towed I had offered to drive it but my dispatcher told me it needed to get to a garage to be looked at. I was always careful to make sure to do what I was told. I will always remember what the little mantra that the ARMY ingrained into our minds. I will obey ALL my special orders and perform ALL my duties in a military manner -Ft.Benning GA.
That little mantra they taught us never proved to help out much in civilian life but I still found myself practicing by it. That and of course the Don't Ask Don't Tell I of course had got THAT one utterly confused as I construed it for many years that it implied utilizing the three wise monkeys when in fact it was only meant to dissuade people from questioning people's sexual preferences. As dumb as I was over the years I had thought Don't Ask Don't Tell implied not to be a tattle tale for EVERYTHING in life. Had I tattled on the guy constantly gunning for my local job driving box truck I may have never been forced into this OTR Billy Big Rigging salt infested nonsense and been able to keep my health. Less than a year after being terminated from that stair delivering job, younger driver Tom Rose (guy that replaced me) was criminally charged for device theft after making purchases up to $35k with the company fuel card. I was sure to giggle about it to my 5k jogging partner Aaron and vent my frustration about how he was NOT the only one to blame. Was anyone possibly going to believe that he could have racked up $35,000.00 worth of charges before the owner of such a small company would figure it out? Bullshit. That woman watched every penny like a hawk. She was just as guilty as he was and I told Aaron that.
She had played that same game with unemployment hoping for a big win after I had blown all my UC checks at Hollywood casino and would be stuck paying back a couple thousand I wouldn't have been entitled to. But Mr. Spencer Cohn the UC professional kept that from happening and I won my appeal.
Even attorney Mr. William Chillas himself made the comment. "Well curbs are made of concrete and meant to withstand a lot of weight." It was hard to believe I had been terminated for hopping a concrete curb with only a 26,000 pound box truck when 80,000 pound trucks do it all the time. But wasn't BY YOUR BOOTSTRAPS Lancaster County typically noted for being system haters? Had not that carrot dangled in front of me cuz of my motorcycle accident put me in the Cross hairs?
My shuttle driver checked her wristwatch and looked over at me. "Okay you got six minutes to get your stuff out of your truck."
I quickly reached for the door so I could at least have a minute left to fold my sheets.
My shuttle driver chuckled. "I'm just kidding. Take your time we're in no hurry."
I unbuckled my seat belt. "Aw it should only take me six minutes anyways. There's really hardly anything left in there other than three days of clothes, a crow bar, and my GPS. I had emptied most of my stuff out at home as a contingency plan should my meeting with the operations manager not go well concerning those owed wages." (I knew that Jake From State Farm guy Paul was going to BS me to no end about where my unpaid wages had landed).
The shuttle driver looked at me. "Okay just do what you gotta do. I'm waiting here."
The first thing I noticed was that my relay driver was still there with my hot VIP load of alcohol from Laredo TX due for delivery in Louisville KY on Friday. I couldn't see the relay driver but I noticed a white Cowboy hat perched on his dashboard. He most likely was still map searching. I was still utterly confused about something. Just yesterday a dispatcher from Celadon had commanded me NOT to let anyone touch or move my truck because the load was a high security risk load where ATF violations could ensue. So why had Celadon given my personal number out to this relay driver? Why had the hotel insisted on not collecting my cellphone number to call me when I could get back to my truck? If I was only two miles away why couldn't "I" be the one to detach the load from my tractor?
I turned my gaze away from the cowboy hat in the dash and looked over to my left. The same short tow truck driver I had chewed the fat with yesterday was standing in the distance and waving me over like he had some juicy news to tell me. I really didn't have the extra time to walk that far over to him and a second later a golf cart went whizzing by me at lightning speed driven by Tim M. from what I believed. The J-Hook impound lot manager that shot out of nowhere. Was that who the little military dude was beckoning to and not me? I really didn't have the spare time to find out. If the short guy with the skin grafts really had something important to tell me he could make his way over to my rig as I cleaned it out.
I started folding up my sheets when a sudden thought occurred to me. My GPS! surely if I was smart I would start with collecting what was most monetary of value first and make the sock collection last. I looked over at the passenger seat at the pile of bills from shippers I had been collecting. I clearly remembered unhooking my GPS so it wouldn't melt in the hot sun and burying it under the pile of papers so it wouldn't be in plain view. I didn't want to take it back to the hotel yesterday because I no longer trusted hotels because my property had been meddled with at the Red Roof Inn in Aberdeen MD while I had stepped out for a while.
I reached over to lift up the pile of bills expecting to feel the extra weight of my wife of four years Jill. My arm sprang up at lightning speed as I lifted the papers up and my heart fell through the floor the moment I felt the lightness of the papers.
Somebody had kidnapped my wife! My back talking little whore!!!!!!!!!!!