A Long Ride To Lyndhurst, NJ

It was sometime in mid-November, 1977. I got into today's truck and fired it up. It fired up just fine. I pulled out of the Duralite lot, bound for Motor Truck Equipment in Lyndhurst, New Jersey. This was going to be one of the good ones: deliver a truck, pick up a chassis and drive back to Baltimore- eight hours of driving, paid both ways. I had driven this particular route probably eight or ten times already, so I anticipated no problems. By the time I got onto the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel Throughway, however, I was noticing a reluctance on the part of the vehicle to reach the speed limit. Still, it was going faster than the minimum speed, 40, and downhill it did fine. The first hurdle, clearing the Tunnel without incident, was met, and I cruised on up I-95.

By the Delaware Bridge, I was worried. Uphill- such as the south face of the bridge, the truck was very sluggish. Minimum speed was not maintained. I built up speed going down the other side and hit the New Jersey Turnpike at about 40. This blazing speed did not last long. I was topping out at 35 on the flat, and eliciting glares, light flickers, finger gestures and horn blasts all the way. I pulled off into the first rest area and called the office. Ted happened to be in. "Just keep going," he counselled me. I returned to the glares, flickers, horn blasts and finger communication. Before I got to the next rest area, a New Jersey State Trooper was on my tail (my donkey, in CB talk) and he turned on his lights to indicate that I should pull off into the rest area. I did. He told me that I needed to either speed up or get off the Turnpike. I said Okay, just to get him off my donkey. Then I used the rest room, refilled my thermos with coffee and climbed back into the truck, fully intending to keep going. I guess the Trooper anticipated this possibility, because he was waiting for me, lights flashing, to escort me off the Superslab.

U.S. 1&9 goes pretty much parallel to the Turnpike through New Jersey, but it's not nearly as fast. It was very congested, packed with traffic lights and my truck pretty much kept up. I was still driving it at rush hour, aggravated to the max, hungry and tired. I had been on this four-hour trip for eight hours already, and was only as far as Elizabeth. I was stopped in traffic at the entrance to the parking lot of a tavern. I pulled in. I went inside, drank a beer, ate some pretzels, and was ready to do battle again. When I came out, it was raining. Excellent.

It was dark as I neared Lyndhurst. There was an uphill section of 3 where I had to stop, rev the engine up high, pop the clutch, gain fifteen or twenty feet, and slam on the brakes to maintain what I'd gained. That one hill took me fifteen minutes to scale. From there it was all flat or downhill. I pulled up to the gates of Motor Truck Equipment- and it was locked. Everyone was gone. I looked at my watch. It was 7:30- I'd been on this four hour trip for over ten hours.
I was still hungry. I left my bag with my paperwork, CB, tag and tools locked in the truck and went looking for something to eat. The main street, where I normally caught the bus to Newark, was only a couple of blocks away. There I found an open pizza joint. I went inside. It was a family operation, and the family was busy cleaning up. They closed at 8:00. I turned around to leave, but Mama called me back and said I was welcome to have my pizza while they closed up the place. They made me a very yummy pizza (of course I was very hungry, which makes anything taste better) and I entertained them while they worked, regaling them with the story of how I came to be in their shop, cold, wet and hungry at 8:00 this evening. I also told them some of my other stories just to pass the time. We were all ready to leave by about 8:30. They had no coffee left to fill my thermos, but that was okey dokey.

I walked back to where I'd left the truck and my stuff. The truck was now inside the gate. I guess they had another key to it. Whoever had moved it was gone again. Now I had to spend the night in Lyndhurst. I walked to the nearest hotel, and was told a room cost $28.00. I had about $14 on me. Damn. I walked back to the truck place to see if anyone was there- a watchman or anybody- who could give me my bag of stuff. Nobody.

A police car turned down the road. Great! I lurked, making sure the cop could see me lurking. He stopped. I explained the whole story to him in three part harmony and full orchestration. He bought it. He offered to take me somewhere where I could spend the night out of the rain. Great!Maybe a nice warm dry jail cell! I'd never been to jail. I got into his car and he took me to MTE's other lot where they had many many vehicles parked, waiting for parts or whatever. The cop found a school bus that was unlocked. "Here you go!" he said.

A cold, rainy night in a drafty school bus doesn't make for very good sleeping. Plus, the pizza had made me thirsty. I set my thermos cup on the hood and tried to sleep some while the New Jersey rain filled it. It worked a little bit, better than nothing.

The morning dawned clear and cold. I was mostly dry by the time I arrived at Motor Truck Equipment, bleary-eyed from my (maybe) two hours of broken, uncomfortable sleep. The evil truck was sitting there with the hood up, a mechanic deep inside it. I grabbed my bag out of the seat, and went toward the office. The mechanic came up for air and said to me, "See this screw? If you had tightened it there would have been no problem." Thanks.

I got my paperwork signed, picked up the chassis going back to Duralite, fired it up and hauled ass- 95mph all the way home. I made it in just under three hours.