instant karma's gonna get ya
Traversing Missouri the other day, two things transpired worth mentioning .
I was loaded heavy and dutifully scaled my rig. Noting that I was 140 pounds heavy on the drive axles, but still 1500 pounds of room on the trailer axles, I slid the trailer tandems forward a couple of notches and didn't bother with a re-weigh; confident that I was now legal. As I was pulling off the interstate onto the ramp of the first scale house 15 minutes later, it occurred to me that, while I had released the pins, I had neglected to tug on the trailer and lock the pins back in place. Now, what I should have done was continue across the scale, then pull off and lock my pins. Instead, I did something really stupid. In an attempt to lock the pins before crossing the scale, I pulled gently on the trailer brake handle in an attempt to lock it on the fly. The result was the the trailer tandems went sliding all the way to the rear of the trailer. Now here I was rolling toward an D.O.T. officer with an overweight rig. Sure enough, my drive axles were now 2000+ pounds too heavy and over the loud speaker,the officer asked me to pull around back and bring all of my paperwork in the scale house. Once inside, I said, "Here's the part where I beg you for some understanding," and explained what I had just done. He checked my registration and IFTA, then went to a computer to run my driver's license through the system. He soon returned and said that if I fixed the over-weight and crossed the scale again legal, I could go. Whew!
Later that day, I came upon a pair of Werner trucks who were traveling together on I-70. If you've never driven this particular stretch of highway in Missouri, it is 250 miles of continuous hills. On the few flat parts my governed speed of 61 mph was just slightly faster than the Werner twins. On the downgrades we were about even, and on the upgrades, I was somewhat faster than them, as their trucks (or at least the lead truck in this two-man convoy) seemed underpowered. I checked my rear-view mirror and there was some considerable distance between us and the next pocket of faster-moving 70+ mph traffic. I figured I'd get out in the hammer lane and once I got into the pass, the Werner trucks would give it up to me and ease up to let me on by. This is typically considered a courteous thing to do when you drive a slow truck like I, and they, do. Except they didn't give it up. It took me a few minutes to clear the rear truck, and constant battle of changing speeds due to the hills. Since there was only a truck's length between the two of them, and with traffic beginning to pile-up behind me, my only options were to continue with my pass of the lead truck or back-off. I was already half-way past the Werner twins, and it really isn't my fault that they were being a couple of douchebags and not giving it up for me.
As enough space cleared between the back of my trailer and the rear truck, a black Nissan sports car with tinted windows whipped into the space between the two Werner trucks, accelerated down my blind side, then narrowly slipped between the front of my rig and rear of the trailer of the lead Werner truck. Then he hits his brakes right in front of me. He measures his speed with mine, slowing down trying to force me back behind the Werners. With his right turn signal, he gestures at me his opinion that I shouldn't be in the passing lane, y'know, passing. He continues to speed up then hit his brakes repeatedly, trying to punish me for nearly a minute. When he sees I have no intention of backing off, he grows bored and tears on up the interstate at a high rate of speed. Just as his tail lights begin to fade into the night, I see red-and-blue flashing lights pop on in distance. The Werner trucks are now forced to slow and file in behind me in the hammer lane for the officer on the right shoulder, who had just pulled the Nissan over for what I presume will be a hefty speeding fine.
I was loaded heavy and dutifully scaled my rig. Noting that I was 140 pounds heavy on the drive axles, but still 1500 pounds of room on the trailer axles, I slid the trailer tandems forward a couple of notches and didn't bother with a re-weigh; confident that I was now legal. As I was pulling off the interstate onto the ramp of the first scale house 15 minutes later, it occurred to me that, while I had released the pins, I had neglected to tug on the trailer and lock the pins back in place. Now, what I should have done was continue across the scale, then pull off and lock my pins. Instead, I did something really stupid. In an attempt to lock the pins before crossing the scale, I pulled gently on the trailer brake handle in an attempt to lock it on the fly. The result was the the trailer tandems went sliding all the way to the rear of the trailer. Now here I was rolling toward an D.O.T. officer with an overweight rig. Sure enough, my drive axles were now 2000+ pounds too heavy and over the loud speaker,the officer asked me to pull around back and bring all of my paperwork in the scale house. Once inside, I said, "Here's the part where I beg you for some understanding," and explained what I had just done. He checked my registration and IFTA, then went to a computer to run my driver's license through the system. He soon returned and said that if I fixed the over-weight and crossed the scale again legal, I could go. Whew!
Later that day, I came upon a pair of Werner trucks who were traveling together on I-70. If you've never driven this particular stretch of highway in Missouri, it is 250 miles of continuous hills. On the few flat parts my governed speed of 61 mph was just slightly faster than the Werner twins. On the downgrades we were about even, and on the upgrades, I was somewhat faster than them, as their trucks (or at least the lead truck in this two-man convoy) seemed underpowered. I checked my rear-view mirror and there was some considerable distance between us and the next pocket of faster-moving 70+ mph traffic. I figured I'd get out in the hammer lane and once I got into the pass, the Werner trucks would give it up to me and ease up to let me on by. This is typically considered a courteous thing to do when you drive a slow truck like I, and they, do. Except they didn't give it up. It took me a few minutes to clear the rear truck, and constant battle of changing speeds due to the hills. Since there was only a truck's length between the two of them, and with traffic beginning to pile-up behind me, my only options were to continue with my pass of the lead truck or back-off. I was already half-way past the Werner twins, and it really isn't my fault that they were being a couple of douchebags and not giving it up for me.
As enough space cleared between the back of my trailer and the rear truck, a black Nissan sports car with tinted windows whipped into the space between the two Werner trucks, accelerated down my blind side, then narrowly slipped between the front of my rig and rear of the trailer of the lead Werner truck. Then he hits his brakes right in front of me. He measures his speed with mine, slowing down trying to force me back behind the Werners. With his right turn signal, he gestures at me his opinion that I shouldn't be in the passing lane, y'know, passing. He continues to speed up then hit his brakes repeatedly, trying to punish me for nearly a minute. When he sees I have no intention of backing off, he grows bored and tears on up the interstate at a high rate of speed. Just as his tail lights begin to fade into the night, I see red-and-blue flashing lights pop on in distance. The Werner trucks are now forced to slow and file in behind me in the hammer lane for the officer on the right shoulder, who had just pulled the Nissan over for what I presume will be a hefty speeding fine.