I took a load from Farmington Hills, MI to Kansas City, MO. It was a 1500 Tuesday pickup with a very generous weather-related 2300 Wednesday delivery time. It was also two skids of plastic parts that weighed a total of 300 pounds. I think I'd have rather had 3000 pounds of ball bearings.
Me, rush hour, sunset and the storm all converged onto Chicago at the same time. It was fun. Anyone can replicate the conditions. Just place a white bed sheet over your windshield, and then drive really slowly, like 20 MPH, while watching the road map on your GPS for the curves so you don't run off the road.
I wanted to make it through Chicago if I could, to Davenport if possible. I made it through Chicago, got by the 55 split on I-80 and trudged onward. Passed Joliet and the 57 split, but it was only getting worse by the minute. Davenport quickly became a fantasy, and I was just hoping to make it to the Flying J in La Salle by that point. 45 miles and 3 hours later I spied through the blurry night the bright yellow and red sign of a Loves, 4 miles shy of my goal. I pulled a clean toothpick out and knew my cake was done, and pulled into the Loves at 21:30. A few minutes later I-80 was shut down, the on ramps having been barricaded.
The snow and wind continued while the guy with the pickup truck at the Loves plowed and plowed like a man bailing out the Titanic with a coffee cup. The truck lot was full and there was three cars in the car lot, all three of which belonged to the people working inside the Loves. I went inside, a girl was just leaving, her shift having just ended. She lived a mile away and was doing her usual walk-home. 15 minutes later she returned saying she'll just hang out at work for a while, like until tomorrow. I parked next to a couple of bobtails and turned on the TV, and later went to bed. I awoke around 4:30 to see the blizzard in full force, and a sizable wall of plowed snow in front of the van. Looks like I'm gonna be here a while, and I went back to bed. At noon the two bobtails pushed through their wall and drove forward to let the plowerman push it all behind them. My wall was three feet thick and came up to my windshield wipers. Driving through it was not an option. I was able to back up a couple of feet and the plowerman moved the snow from in front of me, and I drove out and let him move it all behind where I was parked.
The skies were now clear, still windy but not nearly as even a couple of hours earlier. I wondered what the Interstate looked like, so I drove up over the overpass and saw the roads were essentially cleared, but not a single vehicle to be found driving on them. The on ramps were still barricaded.
Because I had nothing better to do, I went on down into Utica and took hwy 6 over to I-39, just a couple or three miles from the Loves, to see if those ramps were open, and they were. I later found out that I-39 was closed 15 miles south of there, though. Good thing I didn't go down that way like I was tempted to do. I got on I-39 north for a mile to see if the ramps to I-80 were open, and they were, so I headed west on I-80. The on ramps from the exit where the J was were still closed, as were the ramps at the Road Ranger Pilot a little further on down the road. I was the only vehicle out there, other than a state cop who was supervising a tow truck getting a Dodge Caravan out of the median. A couple of other vehicles met me going the other way, and before too long I joined three big trucks heading west. At Exit 56 eastbound, the state police had the Interstate blocked, no doubt because of all the big trucks being pulled out of the median and ditches, and it was easier to recover those without having to deal with the traffic. There was a 4 1/2 mile backup heading east.
There were a few bad patches heading west, but it was certainly drivable. The further west we went, the better the roads became, and once in Iowa the lanes were 99% clear and dry, 65 MPH the whole way. There were many more trucks and cars in the median and ditched in Iowa than there were in Illinois, and I though there was a lot of them in Illinois. As one guy on the radio noted, driving along I-80 between Davenport and Des Moines was like driving 65 PH though a junk yard. I found out it wasn't until 6PM when the on ramps at the truck stops in La Salle and westward were finally opened. By that time I had rounded Des Moines and was well on my way down to Kansas City.
I made my delivery, on-time, with an hour and 5 minutes to spare. And
that's what I do to earn my pay.
