My first run after truck driving school took me into California. As luck would have it, when I pulled into the Truckee weigh station I was stopped and asked to pull in for a complete visual inspection. It turned out to be good luck. They found a badly worn brake air line. Right after Truckee, there are many miles of downgrades into Sacramento. But still, I felt annoyed.

For the next few months, I was glad my company didn't send me back to California. I was in New Jersey when I finally got a load back there. By then I had some miles under my belt and felt confident I could handle anything the road flung at me.

One of the tricks of this business is you don't fuel up your truck until after you pick up your load. That way, if the load is a little heavy, you can balance it out by fueling just enough to keep your weight legal. My truck held180 gallons, and half a tank would get me 500 miles with some to spare. So I was pretty low on fuel by the time I got to the pick-up point. Another one of our trucks was there ahead of me, and it was going to be quite a while before they loaded me.

It was in the 90s, and the only way to keep cool was to run the truck and stay in its air-conditioned interior. Did you know semis use about a gallon of fuel an hour when idling? I got bored of sitting and reading, so I dropped the trailer and found a place to get a grease job. Then I got my fold-up bike out and explored the neighborhood.

They finally started loading me around 6 p.m. and finished about 8. While I was checking the load, they realized they had loaded some stuff on my truck that belonged on a different truck and vice versa. I ended up pulling away from the dock around 11 p.m. I had been there almost 14 hours, with the engine running most of the time.

I had looked at the map of Newark earlier and concluded the only logical way to get to the westbound freeway was to head north on the main street. The only other way out was to go back the way I had come in, head east on the freeway and loop around the city. I never was one for back tracking, even if someone else was paying.

I headed up the main street, and after a couple of miles I saw a sign that said "Load Limit 15 Tons." The rig weighs about 15 tons empty and I had a 12-ton load. I figured the cops wouldn't bother to stop me to see if I was loaded or not. A mile later another sign came into view, "Load Limit 5 Tons." I decided that would be pushing my luck way too much, so I made a right turn onto the first side street.

The freeway was only a mile or two east. Everything was fine for the first few blocks. But then the street started getting narrower, and there were more cars parked along both sides of the street. I had driven into a residential area. It felt like driving into a funnel. I began to sweat because the parked cars were so close it would take only two poorly parked autos to bring me to a halt. Backing up in the dark would be impossible. I pictured having to shut down the truck and sleep there, stuck like a cork in a bottle, until morning when their owners would take these cars to work. Another concern was being spotted by a cop and getting a hefty ticket.

I could see a stop light and the freeway a few blocks ahead. There was just one problem: the freeway was up in the air. I crept along at a couple of miles an hour for the last few blocks, and finally made it to the stop light. The freeway underpass was too low to continue that way, and the street was only two lanes. With a 53-foot trailer, the rig was well over 70 feet long. A 90-degree turn from a street barely wide enough for the rig onto a two-lane street would take every inch I could get.

Also, I didn't know which way to go. Left was shorter, but what obstacles lay ahead? Right took me back the way I came, and I was pretty sure I could get back to my starting point. I opted for a right turn and no more excitement. Even at midnight traffic was fairly heavy. I tried to relax while waiting for an opening. The right turn let me turn on red, so when I had what I felt was enough space between me and the oncoming traffic, I began to inch my way into the intersection. Before I got around the corner, cars had backed up — and were backing up — to get out of my way. It took both lanes to make my turn.

I was almost overwhelmed with relief when I finally got out of there. I went back to where I had started without any further problems. I found the freeway entrance I had used to get to my pickup point and headed east to loop around to the westbound side.

By now, the fuel gauge needle had been on empty for a while. My truckstop directory said there was one nearby. I crossed my fingers and headed out. The miles ticked by with no sign of the truckstop. I was climbing a hill when the engine started to sputter. As I topped the hill near an on-ramp, it died.

I pulled to the edge of the road, turned on my flashers, got out and put out my warning triangles. I walked to the top of the on-ramp and there was the truckstop, hidden behind trees and hills about a half-mile away.

But how to get fuel to the truck? I figured I'd need at least five gallons, which seemed like a lot of weight to carry. Maybe I could get my bike and make several trips with a smaller container. It was now around 2 a.m., and another thought popped into my head. I was coming up hill when I ran out of fuel, but now I was on flat ground. Maybe the truck would start?

I got out and looked over the situation, in case the truck did start. My only option was to drive up the on-ramp, which would force me to make a very big U-turn and use all of the freeway.

Traffic was light, so I waited until there were no cars in sight, turned the key and pushed the start button. It started! I cut across the freeway, made a big loop and headed up the on-ramp. I hoped no vehicles would come down the ramp, and that I wouldn't run out of fuel again as I climbed that long, steep ramp.

Holding my breath, I made the top. It leveled out and turned onto a two-lane road. Since the diesel was in the front of the tanks where the fuel lines draw the juice, I was sure I could get to the pumps. I did.

After fueling, I drove for a few hours. Night's the best time to drive. Traffic is light and there are fewer cops and weigh stations. You can cover more miles in 10 hours of night driving than in 10 hours of daylight. Unless you run out of fuel. Did you know truck driving can be kind of stressful?

(Next issue: Crossed Up in California)