Saturday was a shitty fucking day. That's the only way to say it. The guy I hired Sept. 3rd has apparently grown tired of working on Sept. 11th. He was supposed to pick up a load on Friday night and he never showed up. The broker called me Saturday morning and gave me this news and then proceeded to tell me that my company basically sucks, unfortunately at that moment I wasn't really in a position to argue. I tried calling him several times on Friday and when I didn't hear back I got a bad feeling that he either quit or got in an accident. So when my dog jumped on my bed Saturday morning at 5AM I was up for good with these terrible thoughts going through my mind. About 8AM, after calling him about 25 times and going straight to voicemail I decided to drive to his house in Denver and see if he was there or if his family could tell me if they've heard from him, or worse, from the police. So then I get his address from his application and also grab the copy of his drivers license and I'm on my way. I arrive at his house about 1 1/2 hours after I leave mine and all the while calling him every 5 minutes still. (the reason for this is where he was supposed to be loading there is no cell phone service so I was hoping that's why I couldn't get him) A little ringy dingy of the doorbell and a 65'ish year old lady answers the door and I say "is Greg Cribbs here"(if any of you know him tell him he's a pile of fucking fresh dogshit) and she gets a confused look and says "no". So I then ask a couple follow up questions that she couldn't have thought I would ask like "well DOES he live here?" (who the fuck woulda seen that one coming?), "do you know where he lives?" Well, to no avail, she could only tell me that her daughter used to date him and he's never lived there. FUCK ME, that's the address on his drivers license and application. I had my wife get me the phone numbers for any other Greg Cribbs, whom I'll call Captain Success from now on, and the State Patrol. I still don't know if Captain Success has died in a car accident or just abandoned my truck somewhere. I figured I'd check the handfull of truckstops in Denver and see if the truck was at any of them. This was just a shot in the dark, but I figured I drove clear the fuck up to Aurora, I'm gonna take a look anywhere I can think. The second truckstop I go to I see that ugly yellow motherfucking truck!!! I couldn't fucking believe it, unlocked with the keys in it and my POD's in there too. So I gather up all the paperwork shit, but couldn't lock the driver side door because the inside of it was all fucked up. That's kind of a problem for me because now I need to get it out of there ASAP because it's in the ghetto with an unlocked door and completely full of fuel ($600 worth of fuel in it). I figure out how and when I'll get it back to Pueblo, where I will park it, on my way drive home. Only people on my insurance can drive the truck I didn't have a lot of options, so I had to pick up one of my drivers at 9PM on Saturday in Pueblo.
South side of Pueblo to I-70 and Quebec = 2 hours. This wasn't bad because we shot the shit the whole way and never really got tired. The drive home was fucking brutal. I left Denver at about Midnight and I was exhausted, been up since 5 AM and have worn the fucking pavement out on I-25 but it was almost over. I leaned forward in my seat, so as not to get comfy, and downed Mountain Dews and chain smoked the whole way home to keep my ass awake. About Castle Rock I got a little bonus, I HAD TO PISS! This was very helpful in keeping me awake. I kept the hammer down and my eyes awake and got home a little after 1AM. Somewhere between 400 and 450 miles driven, awake for 20 hours, 1 semi-truck found, scared 1 old lady, and missed a night out with friends. FUCK YOU CAPTAIN SUCCESS
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