When I was little, I remember always wanting snow for Christmas. Maybe I thought Santa's sleigh didn't work without it, who knows? Luckily, living in Wisconsin, Christmas was almost always white. However, I still remember how disappointed I was the one year we didn't have snow for Christmas.
Now, Christmas means something different. Instead of playing in the snow and opening up new toys, it means a break from the daily grind, a chance to be with family, and maybe a chance to go on vacation. Since Santa became a myth, snowless Christmases in Texas and New Mexico have not dampened my enthusiasm for the holiday. I reflected on this a bit as I drove from the familiar wintery landscape of Wisconsin down through the flatlands of Illinois, the gently rolling hills of Kentucky and Tennessee, and the pines of Georgia on my way to the palm-dotted, once-again-flatlands of Florida. I was one of several extended family members converging from far-flung corners of the country for this year's Christmas in Miami.
I arrived at my aunt and uncle's place first, then almost everyone else arrived simultaneously. The rest of my immediate family, my aunt and uncle from New Mexico, and my cousin and his new fiancee.
We had an interesting dinner at a Japanese restaurant. It was all you can eat, but not in the traditional buffet sense. You simply filled out paper menu cards with what you wanted and how much, and they'd make the food and bring it out as it was ready. The nice thing is, you could order whatever quantity you wanted, so we mostly started by filling out 1's for anything that sounded interesting and then ordered larger quantities of the things we liked. It was very nice to be able to try some new things without having to commit to an entire meal of something that may not be that appetizing to you.
So, I tried sushi for the first time. Better than I'd have thought, but I'm probably not going to go chasing it down any time soon. It is certainly better when enjoyed with the wasabi and thinly sliced ginger served along with it. I tried a few different varieties of salmon, tuna, and crab. Tempura onion (that's Japanese for "onion rings") and chicken, salad with ginger dressing, and an excellent plum wine rounded out the meal.
After quite a bit of conversation at the condo, we went back to the motel, where my dirty laundry awaited a sudsy "round trip." Normally, doing laundry isn't something I enjoy, but when the laundry machines are in a small building right on the beach next to the Atlantic Ocean, it offers an opportunity much better than the usual boring routine.
After loading my clothes into the machine, I took the dog out on a walk along the beach. The sounds of a bustling city faded behind me as the crunchy, swishy noise of my footsteps in the sand took over briefly, until the constant sound of waves crashing on the beach drowned out everything else.
I walked straight out to the water, noticing the sand becoming warmer as I approached the foamy sea. Wet sand began clinging to my toes. The dog, curious as usual, followed me down to the water until the first wave crashed over my feet and his. He doesn't like water very much, and he quickly went back to higher ground.
I began walking North in the gray area that we call shoreline. Some waves barely lapped at my feet while others swirled angrily around my shins, trying to pull me into the ocean as they retreated. The dog kept a watchful eye on me, paralleling my path about ten feet to my left on dry ground.
I paused to turn out toward the blackness. Two lights far out in the water and a tad to my left, maybe from an anchored freighter or a small island, were the only indication of a horizon. A single, solitary airplane climbed out over the ocean to my right, turning toward the southeast before disappearing through a distant cloud. Then, the stars were my only companions for a few moments. The constant sound of the ocean waves crashing on the shore obliterated any sign of civilization, just as long as I didn't turn to look behind me at the lights of Miami.
The clink of the dog's collar reminded me that I did have a furry companion as well, and we continued our walk along the beach. He ventured toward the water a couple of times, only to be chased away again by the white, foamy waves. He returned to being preoccupied with the odd smells and sounds of the beach.
You may have noticed that I think about flying a lot. It is something that I thoroughly enjoy, and many people don't know why. Some people are afraid to fly. Others wonder what the point is. It occurs to me that my walk along the ocean gave me a feeling similar to when I fly solo - It's a chance to reflect, to enjoy the world around me, to watch nature work in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, to escape the world of average, to be released from the petty problems of daily life. And I realized that while I enjoy these solo moments in the sky or on the beach, I'd certainly love to share them with someone special as well.
As I walked, I marveled at the vastness of it all - I could keep walking for a thousand miles and waves would still be crashing against a shoreline; every wave the same, yet every wave different, and every piece of that shoreline being subjected to the subtle, constant changes brought on with each succeeding wave. The sands of time are constantly moving, things are constantly changing in subtle ways that sometimes cannot be noticed.
One thing that I did notice was the presence of a rock on my return trip that I had not seen before. I stopped and let the next wave crash, moving the rock a good six inches farther up the beach. I picked the rock up. I noted that it seemed to be nearly the same size and shape as a human heart. Can a rock have heart? I'm pretty certain that this rock is much older than my heart. What has it seen? Millions of sea creatures swimming by, maybe a faraway land, long, long ago? The rock cannot choose what it sees, it can only be pushed around by the forces of nature...
...or of man. I carry the rock up the beach and deposit it on top of a concrete fence post in front of the motel. I don't have the heart to throw it right back into the ocean, it may have been waiting millions of years to make it to the shore and be plucked out of the water to see what the world is up to. Whether the next person to pick it up will throw it back in the ocean or take it on a land-based journey, I don't know.
What I do know is that I'm glad I'm not a rock. I am free to choose my own path, and so are you. Where the new year will take me, I don't know. I do know that I'll see new things, meet new people, and continue to enjoy my journey. I hope y'all will do the same.
Merry Christmas.
Monday, December 26, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
This job's not so bad sometimes...
As many of you know, I'm a professional truck driver trainer, at least until I go back to school in the fall and finish the last year of my Electrical Engineering degree.
It's certainly got downsides - Hard to have much of a social life being on the road all the time, have to deal with all the idiots and traffic on the roads, society looks down upon you, etc. It's got some practical upsides too - Really good money (I'll make less after my degree, at least for a couple of years), getting paid to go places I'd want to go anyway, helping other people achieve financial freedom, and having a corner office. ;)
But, there are certain days that just make every bad part of the job worthwhile. I've got to share the last couple with y'all, it's been almost as cool as flying.
I turned my latest trainee loose on the 9th, and I'll pick up my next one on Friday. In between, I got a solo trip to Santa Clara, CA. It's my fourth west coast run this year (Boise, ID/Santa Clara; Spokane, WA; Hayward, CA; Santa Clara again). I think everyone should make a road trip through the wilds of the American west at some point in their lives. Yes, this is one I'd almost rather drive than fly!
I left Wisconsin on Saturday and made it to Nebraska, continuing to just west of Salt Lake City on Sunday. That's where I'll start my story... And this is what the start of my work day looked like on Monday:
Beats the side of a cubicle for sure!
I proceeded West on I-80 around the south end of the Great Salt Lake and continued towards the Bonneville Salt Flats. I-80 goes straight across the flats - Nary a turn for 45 miles!
Now, there is some similarity to flying here. One of my favorite things when flying is to look down at clouds. Believe it or not, that's possible from 0 AGL out here. This picture is somewhat poor quality because of the salt on my windshield and the low-light conditions causing my flash to go off, but you can see that up ahead is a cloud layer below my altitude. Very cool.
Night fell, and I was in the soup for a while. After crossing Donner Pass and coasting 40 miles downhill into Auburn (mountain driving requires some concentration), I noticed clear skies again. I parked around the corner from my destination in Santa Clara and went to sleep.
California has some very interesting contrasts. Coming down from Donner Pass you're in the wilderness of the Sierras. Once you hit Auburn, it's suddenly populated. It also turns a lot greener when you get down below 1000 MSL and get close to the ocean. The weather down in Santa Clara was a balmy 60 degrees today, with me wearing a t-shirt while the locals sported fleece pullovers. Weather wimps. :P ;)
Unfortunately, California has a disproportionate number of real jerks on the roads. I was almost hoping to have a day to play around and maybe go fly, but I was just as happy to get away from them. I went straight to Stockton and picked up a load headed for Clearfield, UT. Wanting to beat the afternoon traffic around Sacramento, I left as soon as I was loaded. I didn't completely miss the traffic, but it wasn't too bad.
I climbed into the Sierras again, again enjoying the beautiful scenery on my cubicle walls as the late-afternoon sun cast shadows of conifers across the sand-colored mountains. I grabbed a quick bite to eat in Reno as the light faded slowly from the sky. I listened to the last few chapters of EarthCore on my iPod to pass the time as I moved across the vast expanse of Nevada.
This is where it gets good. After a quick pit stop at Carlin, NV I turned off all of the various noisemakers in my truck. One downfall of driving in the winter is that you usually miss out on a lot of scenery because a good portion of your driving is at night. However, this time I could see a lot anyway since the full moon reflecting off the snow-covered ground lit up the night, peacefully revealing the beautiful landscape around me. I saw a meteor streak across the sky.
Much like flying, I enjoyed the passing scenes of nature undisturbed by any noise except the constant growl of the monster under my hood. Such noise is quite easy to tune out for the most part, and a serene feeling settled over me as I watched snow-capped peaks pass by, dotted with dark spots where trees jutted up through the snow.
Another meteor fell, this time tracing a bright vertical line through the sky and disappearing behind a mountain about 20 degrees to my right. I haven't seen two on the same night more than once in my life. I let some of the air out of my seat, lowering myself to get a better view of the night sky. The full moon combined with a lot of haze left over from yesterday (you can see it in the first pic above) blocked out all but the brightest stars, but there were still many more than you'd see near a city these days.
Another meteor fell, a big one. A spectacular fiery streak split the sky, looking more like a comet than anything else. Chunks broke off and made sparks fly around the main tail while the main meteor's glow turned bright green before dying out in a true blaze of glory. I've never seen another one like it.
The whine of the turbocharger as I began ascending a mountain brought some of my attention back to the truck long enough to flip on the engine fan and downshift. I quickly shifted the angry diesel roar again to the back of my mind and enjoyed Mother Nature's fireworks show against the beautiful moonlit backdrop of rough, rocky terrain.
I had the road almost completely to myself, occasionally being passed in the opposite direction by one of my fellow ground-pounding freight dogs. I-80's lanes are far enough apart that I could pretty much ignore them anyway.
Meteors continued to fall, some just a brief flash, some blazing through the sky trailing sparks and flames as if they were attempting to launch themselves back into space. It was a show the likes of which I have never seen before.
As I neared the end of Nevada, I crested a hill just above Wendover where the light show turned manmade. The Pepper Mill, Rainbow, Montego Bay, and Red Garter casinos threw multicolored light everywhere, their tens of thousands of marquee lights vying for the attention of anyone within miles, but their flashy displays simply couldn't compare with the splendor of nature.
I noticed another set of lights, headlights arranged in a long, straight line coming across the salt flats, looking very much like a line of airplanes in the night following an ILS into a big-city airport.
I continued onto the formerly-monotonous stretch of highway crossing the salt flats, leaving the artificial lights of Wendover and the rest of Nevada behind. In the moonlight, the vast expanse of white salt extending for many miles on either side of the road created the illusion that the highway had been built on top of clouds rather than salt deposits. Highway in the sky, indeed. Mountains several miles distant appeared to float above the whiteness surrounding me.
From my warm perch, I watched the last few meteors pierce through the cold, clear sky; nineteen in all. The light show against the backdrop of faintly illuminated scenery gave way to the lights of Salt Lake City; the stars disappeared and the show was over. I maneuvered my behemoth into a parking space, huddled between the other manmade beasts as its roar became a purring idle, keeping me warm for the night so I can sleep.
I have to "work" again tomorrow.
It's certainly got downsides - Hard to have much of a social life being on the road all the time, have to deal with all the idiots and traffic on the roads, society looks down upon you, etc. It's got some practical upsides too - Really good money (I'll make less after my degree, at least for a couple of years), getting paid to go places I'd want to go anyway, helping other people achieve financial freedom, and having a corner office. ;)
But, there are certain days that just make every bad part of the job worthwhile. I've got to share the last couple with y'all, it's been almost as cool as flying.
I turned my latest trainee loose on the 9th, and I'll pick up my next one on Friday. In between, I got a solo trip to Santa Clara, CA. It's my fourth west coast run this year (Boise, ID/Santa Clara; Spokane, WA; Hayward, CA; Santa Clara again). I think everyone should make a road trip through the wilds of the American west at some point in their lives. Yes, this is one I'd almost rather drive than fly!
I left Wisconsin on Saturday and made it to Nebraska, continuing to just west of Salt Lake City on Sunday. That's where I'll start my story... And this is what the start of my work day looked like on Monday:
Beats the side of a cubicle for sure!
I proceeded West on I-80 around the south end of the Great Salt Lake and continued towards the Bonneville Salt Flats. I-80 goes straight across the flats - Nary a turn for 45 miles!
Now, there is some similarity to flying here. One of my favorite things when flying is to look down at clouds. Believe it or not, that's possible from 0 AGL out here. This picture is somewhat poor quality because of the salt on my windshield and the low-light conditions causing my flash to go off, but you can see that up ahead is a cloud layer below my altitude. Very cool.
Night fell, and I was in the soup for a while. After crossing Donner Pass and coasting 40 miles downhill into Auburn (mountain driving requires some concentration), I noticed clear skies again. I parked around the corner from my destination in Santa Clara and went to sleep.
California has some very interesting contrasts. Coming down from Donner Pass you're in the wilderness of the Sierras. Once you hit Auburn, it's suddenly populated. It also turns a lot greener when you get down below 1000 MSL and get close to the ocean. The weather down in Santa Clara was a balmy 60 degrees today, with me wearing a t-shirt while the locals sported fleece pullovers. Weather wimps. :P ;)
Unfortunately, California has a disproportionate number of real jerks on the roads. I was almost hoping to have a day to play around and maybe go fly, but I was just as happy to get away from them. I went straight to Stockton and picked up a load headed for Clearfield, UT. Wanting to beat the afternoon traffic around Sacramento, I left as soon as I was loaded. I didn't completely miss the traffic, but it wasn't too bad.
I climbed into the Sierras again, again enjoying the beautiful scenery on my cubicle walls as the late-afternoon sun cast shadows of conifers across the sand-colored mountains. I grabbed a quick bite to eat in Reno as the light faded slowly from the sky. I listened to the last few chapters of EarthCore on my iPod to pass the time as I moved across the vast expanse of Nevada.
This is where it gets good. After a quick pit stop at Carlin, NV I turned off all of the various noisemakers in my truck. One downfall of driving in the winter is that you usually miss out on a lot of scenery because a good portion of your driving is at night. However, this time I could see a lot anyway since the full moon reflecting off the snow-covered ground lit up the night, peacefully revealing the beautiful landscape around me. I saw a meteor streak across the sky.
Much like flying, I enjoyed the passing scenes of nature undisturbed by any noise except the constant growl of the monster under my hood. Such noise is quite easy to tune out for the most part, and a serene feeling settled over me as I watched snow-capped peaks pass by, dotted with dark spots where trees jutted up through the snow.
Another meteor fell, this time tracing a bright vertical line through the sky and disappearing behind a mountain about 20 degrees to my right. I haven't seen two on the same night more than once in my life. I let some of the air out of my seat, lowering myself to get a better view of the night sky. The full moon combined with a lot of haze left over from yesterday (you can see it in the first pic above) blocked out all but the brightest stars, but there were still many more than you'd see near a city these days.
Another meteor fell, a big one. A spectacular fiery streak split the sky, looking more like a comet than anything else. Chunks broke off and made sparks fly around the main tail while the main meteor's glow turned bright green before dying out in a true blaze of glory. I've never seen another one like it.
The whine of the turbocharger as I began ascending a mountain brought some of my attention back to the truck long enough to flip on the engine fan and downshift. I quickly shifted the angry diesel roar again to the back of my mind and enjoyed Mother Nature's fireworks show against the beautiful moonlit backdrop of rough, rocky terrain.
I had the road almost completely to myself, occasionally being passed in the opposite direction by one of my fellow ground-pounding freight dogs. I-80's lanes are far enough apart that I could pretty much ignore them anyway.
Meteors continued to fall, some just a brief flash, some blazing through the sky trailing sparks and flames as if they were attempting to launch themselves back into space. It was a show the likes of which I have never seen before.
As I neared the end of Nevada, I crested a hill just above Wendover where the light show turned manmade. The Pepper Mill, Rainbow, Montego Bay, and Red Garter casinos threw multicolored light everywhere, their tens of thousands of marquee lights vying for the attention of anyone within miles, but their flashy displays simply couldn't compare with the splendor of nature.
I noticed another set of lights, headlights arranged in a long, straight line coming across the salt flats, looking very much like a line of airplanes in the night following an ILS into a big-city airport.
I continued onto the formerly-monotonous stretch of highway crossing the salt flats, leaving the artificial lights of Wendover and the rest of Nevada behind. In the moonlight, the vast expanse of white salt extending for many miles on either side of the road created the illusion that the highway had been built on top of clouds rather than salt deposits. Highway in the sky, indeed. Mountains several miles distant appeared to float above the whiteness surrounding me.
From my warm perch, I watched the last few meteors pierce through the cold, clear sky; nineteen in all. The light show against the backdrop of faintly illuminated scenery gave way to the lights of Salt Lake City; the stars disappeared and the show was over. I maneuvered my behemoth into a parking space, huddled between the other manmade beasts as its roar became a purring idle, keeping me warm for the night so I can sleep.
I have to "work" again tomorrow.