When you are working 90 hour-weeks, nature is at play, vineyards are hundreds of miles apart from each other, days are marked by tonnage and people who shouldn’t drive tricycles are driving duallys, trailers and forklifts- mistakes are bound to happen… and they do.
To my chagrin, I have done nothing but reinforce the image of the female, inept driver. This week, however, was not my fault. It was my fault, actually, but I have great excuses.
A certain someone who owned the artifact of a truck, told me that they thought it would make the rounds and back with one tank of gas. This was incorrect.
To make a very long day and a longer story short, my visiting east-coast father and I spent the day driving tarped fruit in the rain around WA state. We were low on gas for 30 minutes and stopped at the nearest gas station, which was a Pacific Pride, which would not serve us gas for silly reasons.
We continued to the next nearest gas station, which was too far away… and ran out of gas on the highway, in the rain, with an 8 ton load (trailer, truck and fruit included). As we coasted off of the highway and onto the random gravel plateau, dad yelled with all of his might to keep going- which I saw no reason not to.
What my dad saw, and I didn’t, were the railroad tracks that we just so ever barely coasted over with our great tonnage. It was the two mile-long trains coming in both directions 10 feet behind us 15 minutes later that explained my father’s big city urgency and total lack of humor with the coasting bit. The sight, had we not rolled the last 10 feet, would have been phenomenal. As my brother later mentioned- it would have been one hell of a You Tube moment.