Thief in the night

I've never been afraid to throw caution out the window and do whatever it took to get the job done and worry about settling the score later. It's a theme you'll find common to many of my exploits..

When our first semi, (Snoopy) became terminally ill in 21, we were left with a brand new trailer (and payment) that we couldn't do anything with, so we decided to loan it to an acquaintance under the auspice that when we got another truck back on the road we would get the trailer back. All he had to do was make the payment, it was a win-win for everyone…or so we thought.

Late in the summer of 23 we got the call that his own truck had died in Phoenix, was beyond repair and we needed to come get the trailer out of a storage lot ASAP. Shit.

With Tavish hiking the Colorado trail and Roger nearing roadworthiness, I thought this was a perfect time for Rogers first adventure. A rescue mission!

We still didn't have any of the required inspections we needed, or plates, or even AC, so the plan was to travel at night when it was cooler and the scales were closed, sneak into Phoenix and sneak back out over a weekend.

I made arrangements with the storage yard to meet them at 5:00 p.m. on Saturday and after working all day, Friday I loaded up my sidekick Carl, the family Chiweenie, Tavs beloved dog Bisquit and we headed out into the vapor.

About 3 hours later at our first fuel stop in Durango Co, the fun started when I realized I left my wallet at home. A few frantic phone calls to the bank later and some messing around with electronic wallets and we had the funds we needed to keep going. Sweet.

The truck ran right through the night, even better than I had anticipated and other than a small driveline vibration I didn't like, things were looking good. Little did I know things were about to change drastically.

About 2 hours north of Phoenix I checked in with the storage yard again and it was then I found out the bad news. The owners plans had changed and he would not be able to meet me until Monday morning. Yikes.

I tried everything- including offering him cash and giving him the “my wife's about to have our first baby” line to no avail. He didn't give a shit. See you Sunday morning at 7am. Time for a new plan.

As I mentioned in the beginning, I'll do what it takes to get the job done, so I headed to home Depot for a grinder to cut his lock off and a new lock to replace it. Sorry bud, I had to get out of Arizona and through New Mexico before the scales opened back up on Sunday at any cost.

Plus my wife was having a baby lol…

Accoutrements in hand, I got to the storage yard to find there was no way I was cutting his massive lock off, time for plan C. I cut the gate post off at ground level that held the lock and chain and swung the gate open, go time!

Into the yard I went which contained about 75 different trucks and trailers and found my trailer. Reunited at last! Less than 10 minutes and I'd be hooked up, out of there and on my way back north… which is when I saw another set of headlights swing into the yard and almost fucking died on the spot.

Fist balled and ready to fight, I walked back to my truck, not knowing what to expect. How was I going to bullshit my way through this?

By the time I got to the truck my heart was pounding, and I was face to face with two Mexican guys…

“Hey amigo, don't worry about the gate, we'll close it for you” the 1st guy called out.. “Are you picking up a trailer? My son will help back you up to it”

Holy shit.

“Hell yeah man” I said nervously as we headed back into the yard with a flashlight and I pointed out the trailer.

In no time he backed me up, hooked up the air lines and even raised the landing gear for me. “Gracias amigo!” I said out the window and handed him a $50 for the help.

I couldn't believe it. I was giddy as a school girl and tried not to peel out as I left as quickly and unakwardly as possible. That couldn't have gone any better! That elation carried me all the way to Flagstaff, which is when I noticed the heat was beginning to get to Carl. A little stumbly, droopy eyed, he definitely wasn't right. I grabbed my Nalgene, filled up his water bowl again and hoped for the best, I myself had been up for almost 36hrs straight and the rush I had felt earlier was wearing off quickly. Time for some sleep, but not for long as I still had to get through NM and back to home turf before sunup.

A few hours later the alarm rang and it was time for a quick walk around to wake up and hit the road. I hadn't seen my trailer in almost 2 years and was disappointed in the rest area light at what I saw. Tires were almost bald, the deck was beat to shit and even one of the toolboxes was missing… WTF? This was a brand new 60k dollar trailer just two short years ago and this thing looked 10 years old! The anger woke me up more and more, and that's when I saw the plate. When did he re register it in TX?? And then it hit me.

I had the wrong trailer….

Somehow the guy backed me up to the trailer next to mine, (in the dark they look all the same) and in my haste I didn't even get out of the truck.. Holy shit. What now?

1st light was begining to hit the horizon as I headed back south again, my mind racing. Certainly those guys had figured out the gate situation and called the owner, was I driving back into a parking lot full of cops?

I bounced all the scenarios off of Bisquit, as by this time Carl had checked out. Still breathing but incoherent. No time for Carl right now. Gotta triage.

That 3 hr drive drive took 15 in my mind, like waiting for a hundred pregnancy tests as I pulled into the yard at dawn, to find the gate wide open, just as I had left it… what? Those guys did whatever they did and peeled out too lol.

I didn't waste any time, dropped the trailer, grabbed my trailer and was getting ready to make trucks for the second time when my conscience got the best of me. I stopped and closed the gate, securing it with the bailing wire I had in the trailer and got the fuck out of there a second time… The clock on the dash said 6:40

Northbound I went again, mind racing and waiting for the phone to ring angrily. I didn't get off the throttle until I hit the same rest area in Flagstaff and it was time to cool off for a minute and let the dogs out.

By now the dogs know the sound of the air brakes, and when you let the air out, they come running. As soon as I stopped, Biscuit was at the door, but Carl didn't flinch. Uh oh ..

You should note that Carl was “X” years old and we had been waiting for him to die for a few years. He was a pound dog and had lived 3 lives with our family already, so it was no surprise (to me) when he seemed like he was making his way across the rainbow bridge. I tucked him into his bed, made him as comfy as possible and sat down with my trusty Nalgene for a drink of water to contemplate the last 12 hours, wait for the phone to ring and send Tav a text with the bad news.

When Nalgene hit my lips I couldn't help but spit it everywhere. It wasn't water, but a mixture of Tito's and water from a previous camping trip…!

Carl wasn't dying, he was drunk as shit lol! Apparently while Bisquit had figured it out, Carl's tiny Chiweenie brain didn't put two and two together..Or maybe he just liked to party lol…

Bisquit and I spent the rest of the trip chuckling to ourselves about our adventure, eventually even Carl came around as well, although he spent the rest of the drive in bed, nursing his tiny hangover… 🍻