I did not know about the trucking thread.
 I am a haul road "owner operator and an "outlaw trucker". I hauled industrial machinery, machine tools,cats,anything you could hide under a tarp.
I hauled Diesel to the pipeline camps out of  Fairbanks.I hauled for the "largest corp.'s in America; GE, Boeing,GM, Mobil chemical.Every machine tool Corp., I hauled out of "Cincinnati Milacron" for years.
In 1974, I bought a 68 KW conv., with a 5X4 and a 335 Cummins[but not stock and worn out].My wife was a RN but I talked her into a truck driving course at a Community college. I had all of 7000 miles running double with a buddy.[Brand new 1973 Pete cabovers with 4 and a quarter Cats and 13 speeds}
That old KW was a worn out log truck, with a sleeper; the reason I paid $15,000 for it was it came with a lease to "Weaver Bros. Trucking" hauling from Seattle to Alaska; over the Alcan Highway[1202 miles of narrow, gravel roads, going up and down mountains but the total was about 2400 miles.
" American Trucker' magazine , in 1981, Jan. Feb.; did their  feature article about my wife and I. I will find a way to post it up for you guys. I have many Kodak Instamatic photos of Alaska trucking and all 48 states.My wife will help me  figure out how to post them up.
When I got off the road in 1984, I started a nation wide trucking co. / freight brokerage with between 8 and 30, owner operators working for me.
If you enjoy unbelievable amazing trucking stories, sit back and relax and I will tell a few.

Would be awesome to hear these stories for sure.


Awesome era in the trucking world.

Would love to hear them.

Tag for stories.

One of the moments that scared me shitless was in an Alyeska courier truck going up to Pump station 3 in December.  Just as were are crossing Atigun pass, a 16 wheeler was coming south.  I looked to my right noticing the drop off which is a 1000 feet at the least and about a foot away.

That part of the haul road is not that wide in winter, both the courier and me were shook up enough to pull over once were over the pass to take a moment to regain some composure.

I did not know how to shift a 5x4 and my wife had only driven a few miles on the road in school.I bob tailed around West Seattle trying to figure it out.This old truck had a progressive set of boxes meaning, after you shifted the main box, you went back into deep under in the brownie.This truck  was geared too high so you never stopped shifting; never. the 335 had been worked on and turned 2600[instead of 2250].I prayed the first load would be light so we could learn how to drive this thing.
No such luck. We go down to back under our first load going to Fairbanks and the dispatcher wanted to fuck with us, or kill us. It was an old heavy lowboy with a
56,000 lb box. I adj. the brakes and tried to get out of the yard without missing too many gears.
I had driven one trip "over the Alcan" running double with my friend in a new Pete cabover , 41/4 Cat with no engine brake. We went up the mountains faster than going down.In the first two hours I was scared shitless and my wife was beside herself. On the hard pulls in BC we were in 1st or second gear.The brakes on the truck and trailer were worn out.We had to stay under 10 mph going down some grades and were not in the mountains yet.
It did not matter because I was completely broke and had borrowed part of the $15,000 for the truck.The nightmare was about to begin.

ost

I saw the thread on GD about getting out of your vehicle when pulled over.
I was driving south on the haul road on my way back from some camp, about 2 am, -38 degrees. Empty, no traffic at all, and I am south of the Yukon river in some narrow,twisty area.The CB blasted loud"around the next corner, stop and walk back to the car.I new it was a cop by the power of the CB. The road is just 2 lanes bladed on ice.I see his lights, stop ,blocking south lane and walk back to Alaska State Trooper car.Cop get's out and yells in my ear[because we have lots of clothes on] get in the car and guard the prisoner until I get back. Before I can respond, he turns away and walks past my truck and trailer.I get in the running patrol car, heaters going full blast.In the front seat with me is a guy handcuffed in the front, wearing pipeline worker clothes, and smiling at me.We talked for about 20 minutes until the officer came back. He opened the car door, said "get back in your truck and go". A man of few words.

I am living in a 1975 Pete conv., in Valdez. My 75 International conv. is hid in a large oil tank, where I live some of the time.I am behind a payment on the corn binder, but I am working and making good money and catch up in a couple months.
Several of us truckers slept across from the Sheffield House.Our dispatcher worked out of the "cocktail lounge"; he actually worked at the bar using their bar phone.
It was about midnight, 15 degree's with wind. A friend dropped by my truck to visit for a few minutes. I was in the sleeper and he or I forgot to lock the driver door.
  About 2:00 am , I wake up and snap open the curtain between the sleeper to check the guage's[the 400 Cummins is at fast idle].
I see the back of a large green parka, an Alyeska pipeline green; and the guy is a "monster". He has no idea I am 6" from the back of his head.
 But, I am fucked: I am naked, and my clothes and boot's are neatly folding and sitting in the buddy seat.This guy does not see them because the only lights on in the cab are the guage's. I "Do Not" have a gun and my tire thumper is under the seat.I can jump out the sleeper door, on the ice, naked.
 The guy is trying to figure out how to release the brakes but this is a 4 axle, and he can not figure it out yet.I can punch him as hard as I can in the back of the head but the hood is so thick that he would hardly notice. I have no other choice:
I take my two main finger's, like kids playing cowboys and indians, and shove them as hard as I can into the back of his parka in the neck area, and I say: get out of this truck or I will kill you. He froze and made no sound, and his arms quit moving. I have no moves left; I get on one knee and press as hard as I can with my two fingers into his neck and say: I am counting to 3 and pulling the trigger; so far , no sound and no movement. At two , he turned left and got out of the cab.
I reached out and locked the door. I had to load about 5:00 am so I went to sleep.

That's crazy.

Fascinating tales from the great white north.    


Thanks for posting them.

Back to the nightmare;
The next day, in northern BC, we stop and have dinner with two other owner operators from Weaver Bros. trucking also. They are older and very experienced so we asked a million questions. They thought we would never make Fairbanks. We all left at the same time,but they were faster than us. An hour later we come around a corner and there is a truck off the road in the right side ditch. One of the nice gentleman was "dead" and the other guy    was banged up.They had the same load on that we did except on a flatbed.They got in some "frost heaves" before the corner and the trailer flexed too much.
Now my wife is freaking out because we have not reached the dirt yet. The gravel started just past Fort St. John. at milepost 83.
A very dangerous learning curve is about to begin.
 It had been raining more than usual with some washouts.The Alcan was bladed and covered in "calcium chloride" that would firm up the surface when dry.When slightly wet, it was as slick as ice. When very wet, it was like sticky clay.
That next day, the road was a mess; never made it over 40 mph and sometimes on the flat 20 was tops.We drove 18 hours. no stops and made 300 miles.
The 68 KW had no power steering, the buddy seat was solid and it had a "walking beam" rear suspension[solid].The body pain would be hard to describe.
But on we crawled; I even started to think"we might even make it to Fairbanks yet.
At mp 496 is "Liard Hot Springs"; we were sore and dirty so we stopped and soaked for an hour, then on to Watson Lake.

Sounds fun.

The next day after the guy tried to steal the truck with me in it, I did buy a gun. I was broke but I got a High Standard, 22 mag., 8- shot revolver for $65.00.
 The road has dried out and we are rolling along.We are a mile post 765, on a nice morning, beautiful day and suddenly a loud, high pitched sound and a drop in power:One of the turbo fins on the intake side let go and went into the cylinder's; 335= no after-cooler.
We ease on to mp 777.7; Devils Paw.Small cafe and store with good food and a large parking area.I needed a turbo but I had no money.I also wanted to pull the heads to check for damage.Whitehorse was the nearest town and the place that had a turbo wanted too much for it, double the price in Seattle.
There was a lot of truck traffic up and down the highway because of the pipeline construction but the rain had caused a washout north of Whitehorse and few trucks were moving. The only thing I could do was try to get an empty truck to haul my truck back to Seattle so I could repair it.I parked near the road and asked every truck that went south, over the CB or when they stopped to eat.Weaver bros. sent another tractor to pull the load north.
Jennifer and I stayer in that dusty lot for 6 days; it was hot, humid with mosquitos everywhere.The owner of the place was feeling sorry for us and took me fishing but the mosquitos were too much for me.
Finally found someone to take the truck and us for $500 back to Seattle.I fixed the truck and convinced Jennifer to try again.Now I am completely broke so off we go for attempt #2.

Your story is really interesting

This time the load was legal weight so that helped. Jennifer and I were learning to shift the 5X4; a set of boxes makes learning to drive a truck, complex.
We are about 10 miles from Fort. St. John[just before the gravel], on a steep climb, in 1st. and double under. All of a sudden the main box shifter starts  bouncing around and sounding like its about to blow.
Fuck! We ease into a truck shop in Fort St. John, drain the main box and get a coffee cup full of teeth.We call the company to come get the trailor and bob-tail to the local truck stop.We find a nice couple pulling for C&H that are headed south empty and talk them into hauling us back to Seattle.
Our trucking career is over. I'm trying to find a way to get rid of the KW when I find out an old friend had gone to work for International Harvester in Seattle, selling log trucks.Some how we put together a deal on a brand new, 1975, 4300, log truck.NTA 370 Cummins, 13 speed, 4.63 SSHD's; a great Alaska truck, all we needed was a sleeper and a 5th wheel. We found a take off Pete sleeper and put it on.
We will try it again.I have 5 weeks until the first payment and about $600 to my name.
We make two trips to Fairbanks as fast as we can and I think we might get a third trip before the first payment.
 On one of the return trips, we just left Watson Lake, in a narrow part of the highway. We meet a motor home and just as we pass, My drivers windshield explodes and spiderwebs.No where to stop but the safety glass held so we drive to the next lodge. Over the CB I hear someone yell out, "watch out for a northbound motor home"; he is throwing large rocks at every truck he meets. I an pissed and want to turn around but can not. Next lodge I call Watson Lake cops and tell them.They find this guy hiding in a campground near town.He is active duty Army captain from Texas, with his wife. He is pissed because a rock from a truck cracked his windshield and he is going to make every trucker"pay".I had windshield damage every trip.
Never count your chicken's before .................

Appreciate the stories

When we unloaded in Fairbanks,a trucker with our co. asked us to haul his tractor back to Seattle so he could have a few days off.It was a sign that the other drivers were starting to except us a little. He had a new custom built KW and he was a high level operator.
I woke Jennifer up south of Whitehorse, and I went to bed. Just before I closed the curtain, I told her to take it easy because the road was slick. It had rained in the am and now it was sunny. When calcium chloride is drying out it is very slick.
A short while later, I wake up because I can feel us sliding around and just as I open the curtain, I get thrown back in and then I am standing up in the sleeper.Jennifer bent the road ranger stick and was in the passenger side floor board.We climbed out real quick and I saw my Kodak Instamatic laying there.
It had one photo left so I took a picture of Jennifer standing by the truck and said; now you will remember this several years later.
Here it is 49 years later and I had her take a picture of "the picture', so I could post it.
I look at my 1 month old truck and think; not too much damage, and the KW is still chained to the flatbed. Then I walk back and take a closer look. No fucking way, the custom KW broke the fall for us.
I have not yet paid the first payment.We were sick. I had to call the co. and the owner of the KW.This was not well received would be an under statement. Attached File

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Thanks so much for posting these stories.

Great stories. Horrible luck.

Damn silver-duck and his Misses,

Are my new Heros..

They hated us; no one with the company would give us the time of day.
We made several more trips but it was difficult because people would bad mouth woman drivers[there were only two; Jennifer and Peggy, the C&H driver]
 When we would unload in Alaska we would be given a trailer to pull back to Seattle; it all payed .60 a mile so empty was less fuel and wear and tear.
 All of a sudden the trailers I was given were loaded, sometimes heavy. Then one day in Anchorage we were given a loaded trailer that I did not like the looks of; I told the dispatcher no and we got into an argument and I quit on the spot.
 Jennifer flew back to Seattle to get a nursing job and I realized  was in "deep shit". Truck payments, etc., and no job.
  The good money was hauling on the pipeline but everyone wanted that; it was controlled by the Alaska Teamster's union, which was controlled by "organized crime".The Alaska trucking company,s with ICC permits were the best place to be. Some were under the control of the Mafia and some were still old school legit.
I needed to find a way to get hooked up, and fast. But you needed to know someone or it would not happen.
I had "one" shot at it because I knew someone that was a famous outlaw trucker with an Alaska trucking co.
 The wild stuff is about to begin!

I’m all ears!

Sounds like a blast.

My uncle worked the pipeline, and eventually for Weaver Bros in Anchorage in the 80s, retired from there in the 90s.  You probably know him.

@silver-duck


Any time for more stories?

I could not work my truck in Alaska or even drive for an Alaskan trucking co without an Alaska Teamsters Union card. Everyone who wanted to make some quick,serious money, "needed an Alaska Teamster card"; He also needed to know the correct people.
I had one shot: I knew a guy, meet him a couple of times, and worked a very short time for him. Went to Anchorage and talked to him about my problem.
This man is a legend; trucking to Alaska in 1949, up and down the Alcan and driving "cat trains" above the Artic Circle in the 50's.
  He looked me straight in the eye and said; I like and trust you, your new "pardner" will be here in a few minutes.Billy shows up, skinny, very long hair, and stoned on coke but still amazing.One of the greatest truck drivers to have ever lived[he passed about 18 years ago].
It was Friday night, I'm broke and a nervous wreak. I only know this billy guy by reputation.
Frank says: Tomorrow am, you boys are going to Valdez and set up a terminal for Heatherly and Son's Trucking.I am giving you 5 brand new Pete conv., 4 axle, tractors, 3 new 45ft. flats, 2 new, 60' stretch trailers, and a triple bottom cement trailer.When you get there, talk to this guy about your shop and office.
Fuck! I just went there to ask for a driving job and now I'm looking for loads,loading loads,getting loads any way possible.
 But I'm not in the union.Billy and I are drinking whisky, and he says, I can make that happen; let me make a phone call. He calls the Valdez, Teamster Union Rep; He say's, how much cash you got on you; $300 is all. give it to me and meet me at the back door to the labor union hall Sunday at 2:00pm.We go in and explain the problem, he says. Go in to the hall at 8:00 am and through this card down on this job description[I was qualified on 20% of it].The place was packed and few could qualify for this job, I threw my card down and paid some $ and I was in.
The wild ride starts now!

Great stories.

BTW, that's how the unions still operate.

We get to Valdez with the trucks and trailers and see our shop:An old Union oil "tank". Dirt floor, big enough to get 4 or 5 tractors in thru the hole cut in the water side with a cutting torch and covered over with a heavy tarp.All the tanks in the farm ruptured and exploded in the 1964 earthquake and this one is the only one that survived.There are pictures on the web but I can not figure how to post them.
It is a good place to be out of the wind and blowing snow.It is a giant steel tank, no heat, and "cold as FUCK". But we have electric and phone. We frame off a small office; 8x8.
I take my 6 month old 4300 International and pull it in the back[ tank is round , there is no back].I cover it with a tarp because I am slipping behind on the payments.
Jennifer is in Seattle working as an RN.
 Valdez is wild; terminal camp has 6000+ workers and town is full of truckers, whores, pro gamblers, bouncer's and women fighters to patrol the bars.
  I know nothing about selling freight services, in a boom town, where people seem to know each other. I call on everyone I can find in town that controls freight.There are so many loads coming into Valdez by barge that need to go from pump 12 to Prudhoe Bay.I get no where, nobody wants to give up loads[gold bars], without some benefit.I would bribe anybody but it is "tricky business".
Billy does not like the "tank" so he sets up an office at the bar in the cocktail lounge of the " Sheffield House" Hotel.So after about noon on, he is busy.He is smarter than me X10 , so what do you know; we have loads. He uses some of our expanse money to buy "coke" and works the bars at night.
We now have legal Aleskia pipeline loads; we are busy and making some $.
 I am still just a driver; my truck is parked.
 
Tomorrow I will tell at least one wild story.

This is the union tank farm.

Thank you for posting that for me. The tank in the lower right is where we lived; in our tractors.

I will jump ahead a little. We finally got 5 good paying loads of "pipe shoes" going to a staging area near pump station 3. I loaded all 5 loads and 4 other Heatherly drivers brought loads to Valdez and hooked up. It was time to get drunk and leave tomorrow am.I was excited because I finally got a load north of the Yukon River, so the drivers wages were higher. I was sending the finance co. $300 to 500 every once in awhile until I could find a way to put my truck to work.
One of the drivers was famous all over AK. His name was "Tiny", he was a Blackfoot Indian from Montana. He was 5'tall and weighted 520 lbs; he was a skilled driver because in a wreck he would not be able to get out of the truck.He was strong enough to throw a steel bud wheel and tire up on to a flat. I have changed dozens of flats and it is not easy to get that wheel up on the trailer.We all slept in our trucks except Tiny.No idea where he slept.
We are ready to go just waiting for him.He has to drive a cab over so he can put his stomach in several places with a lot on the doghouse.It took him 30 minutes to climb into the truck and another 20 to catch his breath and tell us he was ready.Frank loved Tiny and he was the only person to give him a job.
We are climbing Thompson Pass and the weather is good. My buddy in another cab over had to pull over and open his winter front more.At a little flat spot he pulls over, but can't get going again because he is on a little patch of ice.I am stopped in the middle of the road just ahead of him, waiting.
I decide to go over to him and throw a single down so he can get going.Now I do one of the stupidest moves in my history; I had the squaw handle down and when I jumped out, forgot to set the brakes.I am grabbing a chain when my buddy say's, your truck is rolling.I sprint over, hung over and heart racing, and jump up on the buddy side to open the door.The truck is gaining speed and 75 -100 yards, it will go over 2-3,000 foot drop.
Fuck, the door is locked. I see my trucking career flash before my eyes so I jump off and stand there,watching a brand new Pete, new trailer and load about to get some air; my heart rate is maxed out.
 No shit, the trailer hits a little pothole and starts to jackknife TO THE HIGHSIDE, just a little and is picking up some speed now. A trailer tire drops over and the truck comes to rest down in a ditch. The only place on that pass it could happen.Not a mark on the truck but stuck bad.
I wanted to impress these pro drivers; I gave them some good story material instead.
 I will tell you how I got out of there and post pictures of the recovery tomorrow. Just another day trucking.

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Tag for stories.  I'm looking forward to reading some of them.

The only damage to the truck was when I tried to tow and drive out forward; I put a hole in one fuel tank. I put a brake rivet in the line on that tank . I never told anyone and these guys were cool.The bed tandem had a large winch so pulling it out backwards was easy after we used another truck for a deadhead.
We stopped to eat just N. of Fairbanks. While we were drinking coffee, the waitress asked if anyone wanted pie. We all said no and Tiny said one word; sure. The waitress brought him a whole pie and we had to wait until he was done. Every waitress knew and liked Tiny.

your stories and pics are great

Driving up the Alcan in the 70's was a"step back in time"; when people were trust worthy, open, and responsible.
We would eat in little "road houses, lodges" where the truckers stopped.Some were like going to a family dinner. No menu's but sometimes a small board with a couple of dinners.Often we would sit down and say what 's for dinner and they would say[one item] and we would take two.These people lived in the back or in a cabin, and cooked real good food, prepared by hand.
Twice we stopped for coffee and bathroom at late hours. The door would be unlocked with a few lights on, no people. The coffee would be made behind the counter with a note saying there were bacon, eggs and bread in the kitchen. Make your own and pay in jar[ no $ amount was said]and don't forget to stoke the cook stove.
 When I was bringing Jennifer and my 110lb. Shepard/ Lab up to Valdez, in our Chevy pick-up. It was the first week of Jan., 1976.We stopped at 100 mile house at the bottom of Trutch Mt. We had always stopped here in our truck and eat and visited with the very nice people that owned the dinner and motel; but so did all the truckers and we were nobody special.
There was no traffic, it was 36 to 40 below[the day before, the canopy on our truck had plastic windows and they exploded from the cold.We had a special bed for peace-dog, but now he rode between us on the bench seat of the truck. The place was open, with no customers. We fueled up and went in to eat and rent a room.They remembered us and made us some dinner.No rooms for rent because the motel was "frozen up and closed".We asked if they had any idea how far to find a room and they had no idea.We were paying for dinner when the older couple that owned the place said that we could sleep in "THEIR" bed. We were exhausted, but we said OK.
We used their shower, and slept in there personnel bed with our dog. They had a fold-out bed in the tiny living room and that was where they slept.
I hardly knew these people but they were "real people".
 We had breakfast with them and headed north.Humbled by their kindness.
  As we go north, it gets even colder and thing's spin "out of control". Now Jennifer and I have to dig Deep" to pull out of this "set of problems"

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The 75 Pete's I was driving for Frank handled the "haul road" very well. They were 400 Cummins,RT-125, 10speed[direct].42,000 lb., two-speed rear ends.4.63 & 6.17's.We were always pulling on the low side of the gearbox; sometimes for long periods if loaded heavy.
The 13 speed in my truck, with 4.63s, I was spiltting  in and out of the low side on steep climbs all day so the fork on the splitter wore out prematurely.
  On those Pete's, sometimes you could shift the gearbox up one gear and the rear end to the low side on a climb very fast and smooth. It scared me because blowing a rear-end was easy to do.
These Petes were 272", with 44,000, Henrickson leaf springs; not the best ride but handled very well on rough roads.
 The tag axle was great in winter. I kept a set of singles on it so when I would "spin-out" on a slick climb, I would lightly drop the tag and I could kept the truck from shooting back down the grade backwards.I kept a single chain, behind the sleeper, on a deck or rack and I also kept two 4x4's, about 18"long, on a rack or fuel tank.These 4x4's had double headed framing nails, about every 4", on each side.If it was very slick and wet, If I spun out, I would jump out and throw these between the drivers.I only did it twice and it scared the "FUCK" out of me.
I chained up constantly, as many as 6-8 times a day: two sets of triples.I even chained up the steer axle and trailer once when I just left Fairbanks and a heavy snow with strong winds hit.
Sometimes I would have a Sunday off in Valdez, but I would have to repair all my chains before taking a break.

Trips up and down the Alcan were always interesting.
One morning at sunrise, middle of nowhere,I see a pickup in the ditch, turned up on the passenger side. A guy is sitting on the roof with his feet on the windowsill of the drivers door.He is smiling and waving and "drinking a beer".I give him a ride to his place; he is the guy who blades and plows this section of the hiway[gravel and ice]. He lives in Gov. housing. He wants to come in and have breakfast. His wife is pissed so we hauled ass.Later I would wave at him and he would laugh like hell.
Another time in the summer, I was bringing an empty flat south, and it had the chains and 4x4's tied down in the middle of the trailer. I was lazy, I should of done a better job securing them.The road was rough in spots and in my mirror I see a chain come off.I go back and get it and see a pickup with a camper a long ways back stopping to pick something up and then they drive to  about 250 yards from where I am standing and they stop and pickup one of my chains: great, they are getting my chains for me.They go by me at about 50[narrow gravel highway]and look straight ahead.
OK, game on! I run to the truck but it takes me a minute to tie the stuff down. I haul ass but they are long gone out of sight; the whole time Jennifer says don't do anything crazy as we are sliding around corners.Several miles later, I'm about to give up and we come around a corner and road construction has traffic stopped in our lane; guess who I have directly ahead of me.I jump out with my cheater-pipe to get in some trouble; they also have a little trailer and in it I see several of my tie down chains.Then I notice someone in the camper peeking out behind the curtain.I yell open the door or I'm ripping it off. A little old man and women, scared shitless open the door, they are shaking. A pile of my chains is on the camper floor also; I grab all the chains and drag them back to the trailer. I did not want to mess around with the old people there.
 I'm southbound and see a dry van blocking my lane, I go by and see a 50 yo man with a boy about 12 changing a flat. I go back and see his jack is sinking in the road , so I get some boards and another Jack and help him.We go to the back of the van to put the flat in and I see rows of drums[small, about 20 gal.] I say what is that' its "refined gold ore", from a mine in Alaska, the entire seasons worth, 48,000 lbs. He was taking it to a "stamping mill" in Utah.

bump

Ive been up the haul road and drove the alcan in a straight truck. My brother has been driving a truck something like 42-44 years and is retiring next year. I use to go with him in cabover Freightliners and the early 70s White.
This was one of his trucks 73 White.
When he started with them they gave him a 1970 that thing was junk lol. The pic is around 1979 he worked there for many years and moved to another company hauling food.
I cant believe my Dad let me go. I would get out of school for the summer and go trucking with my brother. NY City, Chicago, MN, WI, MI, MO, PA, East coast.
Went through D.C.
I remember we were in Hoboken around 1 A.M. we were in the old White cab over. It didnt have door locks. I was maybe 13 and he gave me a crowbar. He goes I have to go in and check in to get a dock. Dont let no one rob you.
It was dark and people were walking alleys and around cars.

I like those old White cabover's, but they rode a little rough. The first time I went up the Alcan was in 74, in a 73 Pete cabover with a "four and a quarter Cat".The greatest truck motor ever built.Pulled so strong with the best turbo sound ever. I would lay in the sleeper,in the mountains and listen to that turbo.
You were lucky to get to go with your brother so young. At 13 I was working in my uncles truck stop.
 I have been in the bad part of town in most of the big cities in this country, in the 80's.I have pulled gun's 3 times but never had to shoot.Back then, not everyone carried. Once in Brooklyn, Fort Lee N.J and once in Akron Ohio.Also Calif.
Did your brother let you drive?Some cab overs are hard to shift.

Yes drove on some 2 lane routes in Indiana. Also later when I was driving straight trucks I drove on a AFB. Broke many a rule that day

Damn, I am SO in for these stories!

Keep 'em coming, Silver-Duck.

Story title; "I could fuck up a wet dream".
 I was lucky to get a chance to haul diesel fuel to some of the camps, from Fairbanks.I told them I had hauled fuel in Seattle but I had never pulled a tanker: no big deal.
I was driving my 75 International, 4300, and pulling an old 3 axle, 45' trailer.If everything goes good, I can make $1900 - 2700, per night. Fuel is free above the Yukon River so I always cross the river low, and fill and fill up southbound.I think I carried 220 gal. on that truck.
I loaded at the "Standard Oil tank farm" in Fairbanks, at 5:00pm; it is winter, dark and cold.It takes until 7:00 to get loaded. It is 24 below,a little cloud cover.I am going to "Coldfoot camp", 254 miles.With 8,000 gal.[56,000 lbs], it takes 6 to 9 hours, except in heavy snow and wind.
 I hit a slick spot north of Livengood, on a pull, and spun out. I slid back 30' and cut the trailer into the highside berm and stopped.Threw on a set of 3-railers and climbed just past the crest.I pulled off the chains because the road was just ice, no snow, too hard to use chains without beating yourself up and repairing chains for 3 hours on your next 7 hours off.I climbed on top and opened the front 2 out of 3 compartment covers, opened the valve and transferred weight forward. I watched the Bridgestone radials flatten a little more and called it good.My tractor had a "Hendriksen walking beam" rear suspension so the weight on the drivers did not make much difference. [ think almost solid, except large blocks of rubber between the frame; logging truck susp.]
   I digress; No problems, I usually fuel at Oldman camp, but for no reason I skipped it then decided to fuel at Prospect Creek, I had fueled there before; now its about 1:00 am[I had not met any southbound trucks for several hours].
I pull in and swing around to the small fuel area, no one there, dark, But I knew where the fuel hoses were. Stuck the hose in the near tank, and walked around and checked the truck and trailer out. I drove in insulated coverall's because if you slide off the road or wreck, there is no time. It was 42 below. I hop back in the truck to warm up and all of a sudden, the 420 Cummins goes from 1200 rpm idle to about 700 and sounds like shit.I freeze and think "FUCK"; then it dons on me.
Gas; I grabbed the gas hose instead of the diesel.I fucked up bad.I killed the motor, jumped out and put the hose away.Opened a tool box, grabbed a "brake rivet" and a couple wrenches and slid under the truck.I broke the fuel line at the drivers -side, lost some diesel, put the brake rivet in the fuel line fitting, and hooked the cross over line back up. This closed off the tank with about 96% good diesel in it. The problem was that the pass. side tank was where the intake and return line for the motor was plumed.
The ice under the truck is rutted,and frozen harder than concrete.I am laying in diesel fuel. I break the fuel line on the tank of 70% gas and let it drain on the ice.
 I am now soaked in gas and diesel; thru my coveralls, long underwear, etc. The gas is pouring out from the pass. tank and forming a large puddle under the truck where I am laying.
If anyone wakes up and finds me,I am in deep shit for many reasons.A large portion of my skin is burning; I go get my large hammer and start trying to break up the ice a little so the gas will drain away; trying to make a little ditch to drain it off. The ice is so hard,I make myself crazy trying, but with very little progress.
Now the pool of gas under the truck is too much and I have to get out.As soon as that tank is empty, I break the line on the good tank and remove the brake rivet and put together the cross over line. Now I take a flashlight and find the diesel hose and start filling the pass. tank.It is about 3:00 am and no one around.
Now the big decision; my skin is on fire but I have a bigger problem. I need to start this truck fast and get the fuck out of here.
 I am parked on a puddle of 60 gal. of gas, 18" below my starter motor, hooked up to 8000gal of diesel.I thought it  and decided I had no choice. I was worried it would not start but it did.I figured if it blew up, it would be quick.
I pulled out on the haul road about a 1/4 mile and stopped; pulled off everything and put on spare clothes and put the soaked clothes behind the sleeper.
 I made it to Coldfoot about 4:30 am and unloaded into a large bladder with no one around.I then hauled ass to Fairbanks so I could get some sleep, wash clothes, work on the truck and do it again that night.
No wonder I feel old.

Jennifer, Peace dog and I finely get to Valdez. I have been telling Jennifer that we have a place to stay for a while until she can move into the nurse housing for the hospital.When we get to the rented room where my friend lives, she is gone.It is Sunday and Jennifer has to meet the head nurse and do paperwork on Monday.
We have $280;I am not too worried. My tractor is parked in the "steel tank" with a couple of Franks new Pete's and a couple more tractors and several trailers outside covered in snow.I call Frank to find Billy since he can make things happen and I am "pretending to know something about running a trucking company. No Billy?
If you are married, it is not hard to imagine how nervous I am.Fuck it!
 We go and have a nice dinner and rent a room.$120 now left.No problem; tomorrow Jennifer pleads her case to the head nurse and I move back into one of Franks petes and go to work soon. Now the fun starts.
Billy went on a 2 month cocaine / whisky bender. The head nurse tells Jennifer that there is a problem with her nursing license in Washington allowing her to work in Alaska.A 7-10 day fix.
I move my 4300 international to a better spot in the oil tank, run an extension cord so we can plug in an old electric heater on the floor in front of the buddy seat.It is cold in that steel tank. We move our 110 lb. dog in to the single sleeper / cab with us.It is dark and cold in the tank. There is a toilet in the shed off of the tank.We are alone in there.We eat out one meal a day but everything is expensive so after a couple of days, money is low.Jennifer checks with the hospital everyday and No freight because of holidays.We buy one bowl of soup a day and eat cracker's and drink coffee.Jennifer is being a good sport but not for long.
One morning on our way to get coffee and crackers, we meet an amazing man.

Sounds like roughing it.  Thanks for sharing.

your stories are really interesting..

His name was Russ Makinsey, about 60 [ we were 26]. He was sleeping in the cab [ no sleeper] in his 1962 Autocar, oil-field, bed tandem, tractor.He rode into town for coffee and free crackers with us; what a beautiful man.He lived in Soldotna AK and was in Valdez to pick something up that feel thru.He moved to AK. from Utah in the early 60's to do some oil-field work.He was low on cash also so we became friends. I made room for him in the tank to get out of the wind. He was having an electrical problem and I was installing an alcohol sniffer that I had found in the truck.He had been in this type of situation before and had a totally positive attitude.He was a great story teller and Jennifer felt better hanging out with him.We would pool our cash for dinner and divide it up 3 ways.
On about day 6, Jennifer has had enough.She tells the head nurse that she find her a place to stay or she was flying home tomorrow. She got a room.
 The next day, while having coffee, a guy sits down and says "I hear you need to put your truck to work; I work for "Unfer Bros. trucking and we need another truck. We have "authority to run from Valdez to Fairbanks" and soon several barges will be arriving from Seattle with 100's of loads going to the pumping stations and the pipeline it's self.Some loads are short but they all pay well.I say how many trucks are you running and "Tom" says 2 and you will be #3. I say great, let's go.
Bill Unfer looked to me like he was 80 years old and he had been trucking in Alaska forever.He had a 62, narrow nose KW, 335 with a 5X3.
 Bill, Tom and I worked on there old trailers and bill leased[ borrowed] some more.Pulling one of there trailers, I received 60% of the revenue.When the barges docked at Terminal Camp, each trucking co. on "the list" got so many loads.We would pull a flatbed to the dock, get a load, take it back to a yard, grab another trailer and go back.When the loads ran out, we took the shortest loads and started delivering them.
That meant climbing "Thompson pass" as many as 3 times a day.[at this point we are working 24 hrs a day because another barge will be here soon.]
 It snows as much as 12' a day on the pass[ world record]But 2-4 feet a day was average. On top of the pass is a bunkhouse with several people running those "Oshkosh" giant, articulating, snow-blowers, around the clock.
  The fun starts now!