Thursday afternoon I picked up a load going to a nuclear power plant in Nebraska. The freight was 3 wooden crates 48" wide, 20" deep and about 30" high. The BOL described the contents as "spool pieces". Total weight 750 lbs. Out of curiosity I asked the shipper what spool pieces were. He lifted the top off one of the crates, none were secured and showed me. Inside was a tapered, stainless steel pipe with a large bolt-up flange at one end. The weldment at the flanged end was a work of art.
We loaded the crates into my van width-wise, leaving about 2 feet between my bed and the first crate. Using two ratchet straps I secured all 3 crates to the E-track in the floor. Off to beautiful Nebraska.
En route I received a QC message with a contact name, phone number and instructions to call when I was 30 minutes out. I did so and got directions to the power plant. I was told to enter at the main gate, go past the guard building without stopping and turn left on the first gravel road. I questioned the part about not stopping at the guard building, telling him I really didn't want to get shot. He told me not to worry, the building wasn't manned. Cool! I won't have to go inside the secured area. A quick and easy delivery.
About 22:00 I entered through the main gate and rolled past the unmanned guard building. Nobody tried to stop me and no shots were fired. I like that. I found the gravel road, turned left and about an ⅛ mile came upon a well lit sally port. The guy I talked with on the phone met me outside the sally port. He told me when I cleared security I should drive down to the warehouse to get unloaded. He then walked through an unsecured man gate in the fence like he owned the placed and continued on toward the warehouse.
The gate to the sally port opened and I drove in. A guard in his late 20's came out to meet me. He looked like the actor who co-stared in those two Detergent movies, Theo something, but with a more prominent, simian like brow. He was wearing a tight, short sleeve black tee shirt with well veined, muscular arms. He had a duty belt with a pistol on one side and a canvas pack-like thing on the other side. The pack was about the size and shape of a Pop Tart 12 pack, but I didn't tell him that. The duty belt held up a pair of jungle green fatigues. Jungle camo at a nuclear power plant in Nebraska? The environment was varying shades of grey, dirt and concrete. This guy was a wannabe military reject. I didn't tell him any of that either.
He instructed me to kill the motor, pop the hood, open all the doors and then stand over by a concrete wall while he conducted his search. I politely obliged. The wall was a little over 3 feet high and just as wide. Behind it was an armored guard shack. I leaned against the wall while the guard riffled through the cab of my van. He called me over to open the glove box and asked me about a few things in the cab. He then sent me back to the wall. He spent a long time searching the cab.
He wasn't on a power trip like some guards, TSA stooges and grocery house dock workers I have encountered. He was difficult to read and showed no emotion. He wasn't mechanical like a robot. More like a drone who's job it was to search entering vehicles. He was put on this planet to be a guard and to lift weights. Off the job he's probably a fun guy. Someone I might like to suck down a few raw eggs and steroids with and then go out for an ice cold carrot juice. He seemed to be very focused on what he was doing and very thorough. He went through everything in the cab, glove box, overhead shelf, behind the seat and under the seat. He even went through cup with a bunch of loose changes and some pens.
On his way around to the passenger side he inspected the engine compartment. I don't have a passenger seat. In its place I have a console like thing that has shelves facing the driver's side. The top is hinged and has storage area for paper work and miscellaneous junk and the back side has a separate compartment for my tools, jack, lug wrench, reflective triangles, raincoat etc. He had me pull all that out and searched through it. Even the box of triangles.
Next stop was the sliding side door and my bed. He checked the pillows, bedding and between the mattress and platform. While exiting, trying to squeeze out backwards between the lead crate and the corner of my bed, his Pop Tart pack got hung up on the door frame. He nearly fell over trying to get out.
He shown his flashlight under my bunk. This is my main storage area. He called me over and had me pull everything out: 1 small soft side cooler with two 1 pound propane bottles, 1 plastic milk crate containing bottled water and diet Coke, 1 milk crate with food, 2 vinyl zip bags with clean clothes, a laundry bag with a weeks worth of dirty clothes, 1 five gallon bucket with sponges and assorted van washing stuff, a sleeping bag and some miscellaneous odds and ends. Thankfully no chinchillas!
I returned to the wall and sat atop it, beginning to enjoy this. I was in no hurry to go anywhere. I was in Nebraska. Where could I go except maybe Des Moines. Besides, I was fascinated as methodically went through all my belongings. He even opened up my small kit bag and riffled through it. When he was finished with that he re-entered the cargo area through the side door. He crawled along the tops of the crates and searched the side storage areas fore and aft of each wheel box. This guy was thorough but not THAT thorough.
When he finished searching through everything, well almost everything, he walked over to my perch on the wall where I sat cross-legged. He told me I should put everything away and close the doors and hood. He would then inspect the underside of my van with his wheeled mirror and I could enter the plant.
I politely said: "But aren't you forgetting something?" He turned toward my van with his back to me and stood motionless. I couldn't see his face. It occurred to me that he may have taken my question as a thinly veiled statement that we weren't done until he put everything back. That wasn't my intention. He did forget something. Something very important.
After about a ½ minute he turned toward me and said: "No, I don't think I forgot anything." I told him he forgot to look in the crates. He told me to wait. He walked the length of the wall and doubled back on the other side to the armored guard shack. He talk to someone in the shack through a small opening, possibly a gun port. A few minutes late he returned and asked if I could remove the straps securing the crates. I did and he looked in each one. Then he did the mirror thing and released me.
I spent 50 minutes in the sally port while this guy searched my van for bombs. Yet he never search me or the freaking crates until I pointed it out to him. Those crates could have each contained a couple three ninjas with RPGs intent on taking control of the reactor. The world is a safer place today thanks to the diligence of a lowly cargo van expediter.
We loaded the crates into my van width-wise, leaving about 2 feet between my bed and the first crate. Using two ratchet straps I secured all 3 crates to the E-track in the floor. Off to beautiful Nebraska.
En route I received a QC message with a contact name, phone number and instructions to call when I was 30 minutes out. I did so and got directions to the power plant. I was told to enter at the main gate, go past the guard building without stopping and turn left on the first gravel road. I questioned the part about not stopping at the guard building, telling him I really didn't want to get shot. He told me not to worry, the building wasn't manned. Cool! I won't have to go inside the secured area. A quick and easy delivery.
About 22:00 I entered through the main gate and rolled past the unmanned guard building. Nobody tried to stop me and no shots were fired. I like that. I found the gravel road, turned left and about an ⅛ mile came upon a well lit sally port. The guy I talked with on the phone met me outside the sally port. He told me when I cleared security I should drive down to the warehouse to get unloaded. He then walked through an unsecured man gate in the fence like he owned the placed and continued on toward the warehouse.
The gate to the sally port opened and I drove in. A guard in his late 20's came out to meet me. He looked like the actor who co-stared in those two Detergent movies, Theo something, but with a more prominent, simian like brow. He was wearing a tight, short sleeve black tee shirt with well veined, muscular arms. He had a duty belt with a pistol on one side and a canvas pack-like thing on the other side. The pack was about the size and shape of a Pop Tart 12 pack, but I didn't tell him that. The duty belt held up a pair of jungle green fatigues. Jungle camo at a nuclear power plant in Nebraska? The environment was varying shades of grey, dirt and concrete. This guy was a wannabe military reject. I didn't tell him any of that either.
He instructed me to kill the motor, pop the hood, open all the doors and then stand over by a concrete wall while he conducted his search. I politely obliged. The wall was a little over 3 feet high and just as wide. Behind it was an armored guard shack. I leaned against the wall while the guard riffled through the cab of my van. He called me over to open the glove box and asked me about a few things in the cab. He then sent me back to the wall. He spent a long time searching the cab.
He wasn't on a power trip like some guards, TSA stooges and grocery house dock workers I have encountered. He was difficult to read and showed no emotion. He wasn't mechanical like a robot. More like a drone who's job it was to search entering vehicles. He was put on this planet to be a guard and to lift weights. Off the job he's probably a fun guy. Someone I might like to suck down a few raw eggs and steroids with and then go out for an ice cold carrot juice. He seemed to be very focused on what he was doing and very thorough. He went through everything in the cab, glove box, overhead shelf, behind the seat and under the seat. He even went through cup with a bunch of loose changes and some pens.
On his way around to the passenger side he inspected the engine compartment. I don't have a passenger seat. In its place I have a console like thing that has shelves facing the driver's side. The top is hinged and has storage area for paper work and miscellaneous junk and the back side has a separate compartment for my tools, jack, lug wrench, reflective triangles, raincoat etc. He had me pull all that out and searched through it. Even the box of triangles.
Next stop was the sliding side door and my bed. He checked the pillows, bedding and between the mattress and platform. While exiting, trying to squeeze out backwards between the lead crate and the corner of my bed, his Pop Tart pack got hung up on the door frame. He nearly fell over trying to get out.
He shown his flashlight under my bunk. This is my main storage area. He called me over and had me pull everything out: 1 small soft side cooler with two 1 pound propane bottles, 1 plastic milk crate containing bottled water and diet Coke, 1 milk crate with food, 2 vinyl zip bags with clean clothes, a laundry bag with a weeks worth of dirty clothes, 1 five gallon bucket with sponges and assorted van washing stuff, a sleeping bag and some miscellaneous odds and ends. Thankfully no chinchillas!
I returned to the wall and sat atop it, beginning to enjoy this. I was in no hurry to go anywhere. I was in Nebraska. Where could I go except maybe Des Moines. Besides, I was fascinated as methodically went through all my belongings. He even opened up my small kit bag and riffled through it. When he was finished with that he re-entered the cargo area through the side door. He crawled along the tops of the crates and searched the side storage areas fore and aft of each wheel box. This guy was thorough but not THAT thorough.
When he finished searching through everything, well almost everything, he walked over to my perch on the wall where I sat cross-legged. He told me I should put everything away and close the doors and hood. He would then inspect the underside of my van with his wheeled mirror and I could enter the plant.
I politely said: "But aren't you forgetting something?" He turned toward my van with his back to me and stood motionless. I couldn't see his face. It occurred to me that he may have taken my question as a thinly veiled statement that we weren't done until he put everything back. That wasn't my intention. He did forget something. Something very important.
After about a ½ minute he turned toward me and said: "No, I don't think I forgot anything." I told him he forgot to look in the crates. He told me to wait. He walked the length of the wall and doubled back on the other side to the armored guard shack. He talk to someone in the shack through a small opening, possibly a gun port. A few minutes late he returned and asked if I could remove the straps securing the crates. I did and he looked in each one. Then he did the mirror thing and released me.
I spent 50 minutes in the sally port while this guy searched my van for bombs. Yet he never search me or the freaking crates until I pointed it out to him. Those crates could have each contained a couple three ninjas with RPGs intent on taking control of the reactor. The world is a safer place today thanks to the diligence of a lowly cargo van expediter.
. Ever push a Jaguar? They weigh as much as a Suburban. Instead, I yanked speaker wire out of the door and used that to connect the starter solenoid directly to the battery. The guards were not amused by the flying sparks.
