Ice Road Truckers: A Modern Day Christmas Story

Last Friday Cody, Caroline and I headed west for Christmas in Kansas. When we pulled out of the driveway – an hour later than hoped and loaded down with BSG sale cattle in tow – we had no idea what lied ahead. Had I known, I would have packed more snacks. Or, any snacks at all. The first thirty minutes into our trek set the tone for the entire adventure. I forgot three gifts in the back compartment of my Edge, so we had to turn around and get those, putting us even further behind. 

11:15 AM: we hit the road – again.

I’m certain that Cody has an app on this phone that directs him to the dirtiest truck stop restrooms in the history of the world and because he’s a curious guy, he likes to experience them. We hit one every 3 hours, or so.  I killed 17 trees making sure no part of Caroline’s body would touch the plastic changing tables at every bathroom we entered. Point of reference: The Pilot in Terre Haute, Indiana has the coldest bathroom I’ve ever been in. Caroline would agree.  She went through two outfits just trying to self-regulate her body temperature.

I don’t remember much of Illinois. It's probably better that way.

Between St. Louis and Columbia, Missouri a freezing rain moved in and completely crippled the interstate system.  Our truck came to a screeching halt, but we didn’t think too much of it because the roads had gotten noticeably slick. Two hours later we were still crawling westbound in stop-and-creep traffic.

By hour 4 Cody was getting quite uncomfortable. First he took off his belt, which was pushing on parts of his body that didn’t need any extra pressure. What made this noteworthy is the fact that he forgot this minor detail each time he got out of the truck. Have you ever seen Cody Sankey jump out of a truck without a belt to hold his pants up? Noteworthy. Secondly, he got a leg cramp so bad I was sure we’d have to amputate, but he couldn’t get out and stretch because we were sitting on pure ice. Then, somewhere in the dark between Wright City and Warrenton, Missouri these simple words cut through the dark, idling truck cab:

“You’re not going to like this, but I need you to dump this cup as soon as it’s full.”

60 oz. and two minutes of gagging later I knew that love truly knows no bounds.

Both directions of I-70 traffic were stopped for several hours.  In fact, we sat in a 7-mile stretch for 8 hours and in park (not moving an inch) for 6 of the 8. We rolled past one man who had fallen asleep behind the wheel, car still running. Cody honked to wake him up as we slowly rolled past him, but we didn’t get the job done. We later saw the guy back up and going; more rested than the rest of us, no doubt. I forget what hour it was when Cody told me that if we sat there much longer he would have to shut off the truck to conserve fuel and I’d have to keep Caroline warm. It was then that I went from frustrated to worried.

It was an eerie feeling driving, or skating, past abandoned semis and cars/trucks that had either fallen victim to the ice and landed in the ditch, or those which had run out of gas from sitting idle in single digit temperatures for eight hours. Those big semi trucks don’t seem so powerful when they’re strung around like rag dolls and piled against guard rails. Once up and going we also saw a lot of cups lining both sides of the interstate. Cody found a bit of peace knowing he wasn’t the only one in such a predicament. I felt empathy towards any co-pilots involved.

We saw only one MoDOT truck during our 8-hour stop, and he kept driving back and forth across the over pass ahead of us. The local country station wasn’t playing music, but rather taking calls from stranded drivers. Cody called in once we “made it through the gauntlet” and told the DJ about the conditions we encountered, how long we’d been sitting, etc. On the air the DJ asked if Cody had a clean joke he’d like to share with the listeners:

Cody was quick to respond: “Do I have a joke? I sure do: MoDOT.”

We were hauling six cows and three calves that had sold two weeks ago at the Bowman Superior Genetics Form to Function sale. One buyer sat at a truck stop in Kingdom City, Missouri from 4:00 PM (when we told him we’d be there) until 1:00 AM (when we actually arrived) waiting on his investments. We unloaded half of the stock in the truck stop parking lot on a sheet of ice, used the restroom, bought coffee then kept on west. Had there been any available hotel rooms there or the next three exits we would have stayed over night. Every room along icy I-70 was already full at 2:00 AM.  Our family has a whole new appreciation for the phrase "No room at the inn" this year. 

For 370 miles – from St. Louis to Council Grove, Kansas – Cody didn’t exceed 50 mph., nor did he take the truck out of 4 wheel drive. I did my best to keep Caroline fed, changed and entertained in the backseat. I’ll admit I broke many rules in terms of keeping her buckled in, but she stayed warm, dry and fed and at the end of the day(s) that’s all we cared about. I learned how to change a diaper in a single-seat space and how to feed a baby while sitting amongst truck drivers in a well-lit Pilot fuel pump line. Motherhood has a way of tearing you down and then truly empowering you in the next moment.

CJ praying outside a Topeka truck stop that we make 

it to the 6N Ranch in time for Christmas

We left our house at 11:00 AM Friday and should have been to the ranch by 9:00 PM that evening.

Instead we arrived at 11:00 the next morning: Almost 24 hours to the minute. To top it all off, Cody went to unload the remaining Shorthorns (sold to Colorado) and the trailer door was pure ice and frozen shut. He had to unload the cows and calves out the side door. That’s just the luck of Cody Sankey, Ice Road Trucker.

I rolled out of the truck with spit up in my hair, my fingers webbed due to the amount of formula caked onto them, my leggings so stretched out that the crotch was between my knees, and a restless baby in my arms.  Cody was in serious need of a stiff drink and stretch, but he settled for a shower and a nap before the Laflin Christmas began in two short hours.

We had three really nice Christmases, were gifted far too much and spent hours watching Caroline and cousin Bayler interact. It was such wonderful family time. But in no time we were heading east again.

The trip home was much more uneventful, thank goodness.

Although we did stop mid-Missouri for fuel and another dirty Pilot truck stop bathroom experience:

I had just lined the changing table with 40 paper towels and laid Caroline down when another mom came in with yoga pants, a thigh gap and her two young kids.  She looked at Caroline sprawled out on the plastic table, then instructed her kids, “Do not touch anything in the bathroom. Keep your hands off everything.”

As she led her Baby Gap models into the handicap stall, I turned and looked down at CJ, batting her tiny hand against the wall, and began to feel like Grand Champion Dirty Mom of Missouri. Meanwhile, thigh gap continued to instruct her kids to keep their hands off everything. In an effort to make more room at my workstation, I wrapped up the dirty diaper and threw it approximately 8 feet across the restroom to the trash can. If you know my athletic history (it’s brief), you won’t be surprised to know that I missed the trash can, the diaper ricocheted off the side and rolled into Thigh Gap’s stall.

SILENCE.
I didn’t know what to say other than, “I’m sorry about that! I never was much of a basketball player.”

No response.

Shortly after, she and her kids emerged from the stall, she scrubbed their hands and they left without a word of encouragement or disdain. If I had a Snickers bar in that moment I would have gladly given it to her.

In the meantime Cody had come into the travel center to get caffeine. I took Caroline out to get her loaded up and heard water running? I quickly learned that the diesel pump had dispensed 17 gallons over what our tank actually holds because the pump didn’t shut off automatically when full. That was a $39.00 travel lesson learned the hard way.

The best news: We’re home. We’re safe. We were able to catch up on conversations that we hadn’t had in a while and I was given the opportunity to sit next to Caroline Jean and study her for hours on end, uninterrupted. How many other moms get that chance, especially during this busy holiday season? God doesn't always give us what we want, but rather what we need. 

Speaking of needs. 

Does anyone have a chiropractor recommendation in east central Indiana? 36 hours of sitting in a crew cab has really taken a toll on this old mom. I've considered doing yoga stretches but I haven't been able to touch my toes in 24 years. 

Merry Christmas from the Sankey family

No Other Shotgun Rider

"Did you shut off the water?"

- asked halfway through Missouri

Slowly I'm learning just how much I have to learn. 

I learned a long time ago (like, on our second date) that we'd likely take very few vacations that didn't include sorting, buying, selling or showing stock. I guess that was one of the first boxes checked during Cody and I's early extended conversations: we had the same background, same passion and in turn...same future. 

Sometime after we were blinded from being googly-eyed at each other, but before twelve hours ago when I washed a large load of dark jeans with 1/2 pound of wood shavings and five Kleenexes in the pockets, life happened. 

And that is where I begin. 
And so did "vacation". 

We had barely reached the first stop sign (1/8 mile from our driveway) in our journey of 1,350 miles before I asked Cody if he remembered to put the lock over the double latch on the back door of the stock trailer. We were hauling cattle to Council Grove, Kansas for the Sankey's 6N Ranch production sale. Cody told me he did remember the lock, but I conducted a Chinese fire drill of my own just to confirm. He was right. 

We made it seventeen miles on to I-70  before Cody suggested I "take a snooze" so I could drive when his eyes got tired. It was then that I knew: This is the first of many "vacations" where I wouldn't catch up on sleep. 


When we we began our journey west (side note - we have the Journey West blanket  in our downstairs spare bedroom to commemorate adventures such as this - the wool blanket keeps guests warm in the winter and the summer! Highly recommended (for winter)).

Where was I? Yes, when we began our Journey West, I had these admirable Phil Bowman-Intentions of eating well and smart and healthy and not buying anything from a convenience store. I sincerely ate celery and peanut butter and honey crisp apples for the first 2 hours of the trip. 

Yeah well, life happens. Cody woke me beneath the bright lights of a Pilot truckstop, threw the rig into park and told me it's "my turn".
My turn for what?
To win the lottery? To use the neck roller? To fuel up?
Nope.
My turn to eat Combos paired with Mt. Dew, pick the radio station, temperature control and seat adjustment preference. Twenty-seven minutes into my truck driving shift I hit a rumble strip, or series there of, just to prove to Cody that nothing ends well when I'm awakened from a nap.

Ninety-seven miles in and my big-rigging took an unplanned halt. We were just trucks away from a life-altering accident on I-70. We landed close enough behind the accident that we could watch the paramedics work. One minute you think you're in a hurry, the next minute you realize you have all the time in the world. I never felt tired after that deal. 

We reached the ranch safely at 4:00 AM; our niece Bayler was just waking up for a snack. That also put things into perspective for this kidless couple. Sleep is fantastic. 

I spent the next four days finding things around the ranch and surrounding shops/areas that I could stow away in the storage section of the stock trailer and tote back to Indiana without Cody noticing. A wide selection of pumpkins, a vintage mirror and an old mobile beverage cart, a fireplace, twelve servings of beef brisket.........really anything I could get my hands on and secured in tow before he caught on. Listen, if this was my vacation, I was packing souvenirs. 

The weekend went quickly. 
The truck made runs between the ranch and town and my celery was never touched again.
The trailer sat parked, though filled with various items periodically. 
The sale went well. 
Though sleep was limited, the views were not. 

Cody and I debated playing ROCK-PAPER-SCISSORS to determine who had to drive the first leg of the trip back to Indiana. Then I quickly agreed to handle that shift; I then proceeded to drive four miles into town to get diesel. First leg down! By the time Cody filled the tank, then returned from buying lame gas station coffee, I was a soundly sleeping shotgun rider. #WINNING. 

Before I knew it he was waking me again - no lesson learned, I guess - and asking me if I needed to use the restroom. Like a temperamental 13-year-old I shuffled into the truck stop. Ten minutes later I rubbed my eyes in the check out line and asked Cody how far until we hit Kansas City?
"Do you have any idea where we are?"
I looked around. All the folks looked like grumpy typical tourists, diesel price looked familiar, there were dream catchers on a rack beside me, so no...I didn't. 
As it turns out, I slept better as a shotgun rider than I anticipated. 

Cody paid for fuel and I checked the black-hided stock in back, those who had new owners awaiting them east of the Mississippi. I rummaged through the back seat and decided to throw the bad celery out of the tupperware and onto the parking lot concrete; it was simply a lost battle. Then I saw a woman fifteen yards away - approximately 108 years old - picking up trash, watching me toss my sour salad into her lot. I proceeded to pick up all celery sticks and toss them into the pet lot. Dogs like celery, right?

I checked my reflection in the mirror and redid my ponytail; I was looking more and more like a trucker's wife every day. Just. Get. Me. Home. 

In the hours that followed, the celery was replaced by the following items to keep me awake: Gobstoppers, Nerds, bottled water, chicken McNuggets and fries and Craisins. I'm basically the picture of health. 

By mile 329 east bound I was able to easily awake Cody with my rendition of Delta Dawn in which I sang mirroring the sounds of Tanya Tucker...all of them; then, and also now. Have you seen her lately? 

He begged to drive if I would just sleep and no longer sing. My plan worked exactly as imagined. I slept on and off for the next three hours. 

It was pouring rain when we got home, which was (not) appropriate since the pumpkins were packed in the trailer and our luggage in the bed of the truck; learn something new every day, I suppose. 

I also learned that long journeys west - and east, and all over this world - require a great partner and someone looking out for your best interests, always. For instance, Cody knew by the look on my face that the Pilot women's restroom was not going to cut it, so he drove me across the interstate to the Flying J and never asked a single question. That's a good man, right there. 

And frankly, I couldn't imagine any other shotgun rider. 

Shotgun Rider

Turning Thirty: Utilizing The Chinese Fire Drill

The thought of turning thirty next month continues to show up in my mind from time to time. 
Mostly just when I wake up or fall asleep. Sometimes in my dreams. 

I consider the age of thirty and everything I thought it would encompass when I was younger - in my teens and early twenties. At that naive, marshmallowy point in my life I figured by thirty I would be married to a guy I met in college and raising three kids on a farm with sweet corn in the garden. 

I was way off. 

I didn't meet The One in college, 
we have no children but plenty of cows and 
this spring we reseeded what was the garden back into grass. And though it seems I'm not living what I believed to have wanted 10+ years ago, I'm quite happy. I'm happy that together we're laying the ground work for a remarkable life, when not busy working cattle or selling the other's belongings in garage sales.

It is interesting the life map we mentally design for ourselves. The routes we plan to take and the anticipated stops along the way. And as we check off the things we get done, the places we see or the people we meet, it can be easy to forget that the simple days lived only to meet the next obligation or destination is actually life. 

I've always enjoyed studying maps and finding the best way to get somewhere, though not necessarily the quickest. As of late, I've realized that perhaps life without the map brings as much joy - or more - to a person. While I've focused on checking all the boxes, it's my hope I remember a bit of the view. Even when I'm (gasp!) SEVENTY.

Really, who are we to assume we get to pick the route? The school, the job, the house, the spouse - sure, all of these things become our choice and determine our direction. And since we're the ones determining the direction in which we move confidently 

that also makes us the driver. Keeping the foot on the gas and a close watch in the rear view mirror. 

The closer I creep towards thirty-years-old, the more clearly I realize the importance of a Chinese fire drill. Letting someone else take the wheel. Because beyond the map and the plan, I now understand that I simply can't do all of the driving. 

No matter how much I intend to use a map to route my life and the stops I anticipate, God is the ultimate navigator. He knows our end point, and the route we must take to get there. 
The pit stops
flat tires
amazing sunsets
blinding sunrises
dirty windshields 
speeding tickets and 
uncomfortable hours 
are all part of the trip planned for me.

And you. 

Don't be afraid to take a back road every once in a while, tossing the map in the back seat. Sometimes flat tires and other obstacles turn out to be blessings. Construction only means that better things are on the way. It is ok if you take a bit longer to get to the destination.

Be confident enough to allow a 
Chinese fire drill 
in your life. 

Remember:

Chinese fire drills give you the opportunity to enjoy the view and put the navigation in Someone Else's hands.