Mileage: For Truckers, It's Not Always Easy Getting from Point a to Point B

By Cleveland Roy Dillingham

After living in Atlanta, Georgia, for more than ten years, Raymond Jones had to return to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where he was born and raised. A seasoned career truck driver, Ray had been through two marriages and had five children. But it was during his second marriage where he had to face the senseless, tragic loss of his only son. Now divorced and his remaining four daughters all grown up, Ray drives over the road, but now he would need to heal from within and keep the rubber side down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504956505

Cleveland Roy Dillingham

Cleveland Roy Dillingham was born in Pittsburgh. Pennsylvania. A truck driver for nearly thirty years, MILEAGE is a story based on his life while driving over the road.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Long Island City, New York. Ray hated delivering there. He was back with his old job for only a couple of months now and already he was feeling burned out. It was the middle of December and the holiday crowd was in full force. Monday morning at 7:00 a.m. and traffic was a nightmare. His destination was a paper mill in an industrial area that was built long before there were fifty-three-foot trailers, and to make things an even better challenge, the docking area was on a narrow one way street on the right hand side. This meant he would have to back the trailer in on his blind side. He parked his truck across the street from the mill and waited for an available dock. Ray stretched and looked at the pictures on his dashboard. His children. Four daughters and his late son. He remembered when they were younger, and they would all pile up into his tractor and sit on the bunk. He smiled. Only the thoughts of his kids could bring a smile while sitting on a crowded New York street in the dead of winter After waiting for a straight truck to pull out of one the docks, he stepped out of his cab. He grabbed his work gloves and walked to the rear of the trailer to open the doors. A trucker’s work gloves were used a lot. Ray used his work gloves also when getting fuel. After opening the trailer doors, Ray got back into the cab and began to slowly approach the dock. As he started to back the trailer in, his tractor had to go up onto the sidewalk across the street. Pedestrians appeared to walk right into the truck as no one stopped to let him proceed.

After several attempts, cars behind him began driving on the sidewalk to get past him. Just when he finally was lined up with the dock, his cell phone rang. Ray glanced at it on the dashboard. The ex-wife. "Perfect timing. He let it ring as he after almost twenty minutes backed into the dock. After shutting down the truck, he reached for the bill of lading. The cell phone had stopped ringing, and a new message was in his voice mailbox. He would need to call her back. He had three daughters who were grown up, but his seventeen year old girl still lived with the ex-wife in Atlanta. After checking in with the receiving clerk on the dock, he checked his voice mail. YOU NEED TO TALK TO YOUR DAUGHTER! Ray wanted to call and see what was going on, but his nerves were already unravelled from just backing in the dock. He’d thought it better to wait until he was out of New York, and his blood pressure down a little before he’d jump in the mix. He handed the paperwork to the forklift driver and went back to sit in his truck. He grabbed a bottle of water from his cooler and did his log book. Ray was three years from turning fifty, and he had been driving trucks almost half of his life. With two failed marriages under his belt, driving trucks seemed to be the only thing he did right. He wasn’t a bad father to his five children. But he could not be there for all of the birthday parties. His children grew up to understand the life of a trucker and they all loved him. But Ray continued to be haunted by the awful sight of seeing his only son just moments after taking a bullet to the back of his head. It has been said that a tragedy like this will either make a couple’s relationship stronger, or it will help to destroy it. Ray’s second marriage was already heading south, but this became too much for both Ray and his wife of almost twenty-years to handle. Life would continue to get worse for Ray. He was an owner-operator for a local trucking company just outside of Atlanta. After his son’s murder, he began to start having minor accidents on the job. It was only a matter of time before the fender benders added up and cost him his contract with his job of eleven years. Black balled by that trucking company, only his former employer back home would give him a job. J.A.G. Express welcomed Ray back like a prodigal son returned home. So after selling his tractor, Ray packed up and returned to Pittsburgh where he was born and raised. And now, sitting in New York getting unloaded, it felt like he never left. After completing his log book, he plotted his course for his next pick up in Philadelphia. He would be picking up a load for a local beverage company going to Indianapolis. He turned on his laptop computer that sat next to his seat. He went to check how the weather would be heading to the Midwest. He would be in Indianapolis by tomorrow morning. From the looks of the forecast, a cold front was heading in that direction from the north. He would be right in the middle of it. Ray sighed and went to check his e-mail when the forklift driver began to pound on the side of the trailer. He was finished unloading the trailer. Ray glanced at him in his rear view mirror as he shut down his laptop computer. He stepped out of the truck and walked over to the dock to get back the signed bill of lading. Just as he got his paperwork back from the forklift driver, his cell phone rang once more. He looked to see that this time it was his seventeen-year-old daughter Candice. Ray answered this call while he jumped back in the truck. What’s up, Piggie? Piggie was her nickname Ray gave her as an infant. His daughter had attitude as she addressed her father. Dad, why is Mom trippin’ so much about where I go for college?! Ray shook his head. You know how serious your mother is about education. He switched the phone call over to his head piece so he can drive. Have you decided where you are going to go yet? he continued as he pulled out from the dock. After pulling back out into the busy one-way street, he stopped to get out to shut the doors on the trailer. No, Piggie answered. But Mom wants me to stay in Georgia for college. Ray shut the trailer doors and quickly got back in the truck and began to drive off. Listen, Piggie, he said. where do you want to go for college? What do you want to do? The tone in his daughter’s voice had calmed down. I don’t know. Before Ray could say another word, his daughter had an in-coming call on her other line. I’ll talk to you later, Dad! Good- bye!" Ray let out a sigh. Kids…

Seeing the Statue of Liberty from interstate 278 was probably the only thing Ray liked about driving through Brooklyn, New York. Traffic on the way out was much lighter than when he drove in that morning. And as always, Ray found himself comparing New York potholes to Pittsburgh potholes. He liked Pittsburgh potholes better. Before long, he was passing through the toll booths entering the New Jersey Turnpike. The roads were looking clear and dry. He estimated that he would arrive in Philly just before noon. If all goes to his plan, he could be half way to Indy before the first snowflake landed on the hood.

Chapter 2

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania:. Ray was ahead of schedule. He was loaded and on his way to Indianapolis. His oldest daughter Frenchie lived in Philly, and every time he came through, he thought about paying her a visit one day. She’s lived there almost 10 years. As Ray headed for the Pennsylvania Turnpike, he promised to himself to make an effort to see her while she still lived there.

Ray didn’t pull over for a break until he crossed the West Virginia state line. He parked in the first rest area on Interstate-70, and wasted no time getting to the