Today I learned that our inverter is extremely important. I also discovered that owning a truck requires approximately the same financial commitment as supporting Keith Richard’s heroin habit from 1974 to 1982. As a matter of fact, I’d venture to say it’s actually a higher number of green American dollars, with a much lower chance of rehabilitation. It’s a sickness, and I’m suing someone for disability, as soon as I can figure out how to make a case for the supreme stupidity of wanting to own your own business.
OK, it’s really not that bad, but some days, it seems like we bang our heads against the same wall and never learn to turn around and run from the wall instead of continuing to slam ourselves into it like rabid lemmings.
The joys of trucking.
So George was doing the pre-trip today. You know, that magic 15 minutes in which he roams around the truck hitting things, checking wires and tires, and mumbling to himself. He seemed to be grumbling a little more than usual, and mentioned that the voltage on the truck was a little low. He got out the voltmeter – a tool that I had a bad experience with when I was a child, so it instills a great deal of trepidation in me when I see him get it out.
“What’s going on?”
“Just checking the alternator – seems fine. We’ve got something draining the voltage.”
