‘Grabbin’ Gears’

The Open (or closed) Road

For some of us, there’s nothing like going for a cruise — solo.

Windows down, music on, a cold drink (sparkling water!) in the console and maybe an open pack of Swedish Berries on the passenger seat.

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I really enjoy new places.

The adventure of driving into unknown territory not knowing what to expect, meeting new people and learning about landscapes, buildings, activities and history keeps me constantly brainstorming about new places to travel.

While we are all limited these days to more of our local areas, I know I’ve still barely scratched the surface of exploring beautiful B.C. and for that I am grateful.

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By trade I’m a truck driver.

When I used to think of certifications and licences I wanted to obtain for my bucket list, having my Class 1 came somewhere in the top five along side the CORE, PAL, Class 6, PPL and whatever it’s called that I would need to ‘man’ a boat on the ocean. Some of those I’ve already got and others I’m still working on.

‘Grabbin’ Gears’ as it’s often called, driving truck I felt so Canadian.

One outfit I worked for, hauling in the summertime, I would get jobs that took me along the rivers, beside the CN train tracks, through the mountains and up steep forest roads to pour foundations at remote fishing resorts. Other times, I would grab a coffee before the sun rose and headed out of town to Shuswap Lake where I’d be loaded at the little plant out there and get to work lakeside in another community for the day.

Some of our regular customers included a rural butcher shop about an hour and a half out of town. They were one of my favourite jobs. Not only were they personable and fun to deliver to, we’d often pour late into the evening and when we were done they would fill my cab full of homemade beef jerky, farm fresh eggs and other treats to take home.

In the winter, cruising through the snowbelt of Blue River up to Valemont B.C., the roads would have so much snow on them that you could only go about 40km/hour in spots.

Thanks to Delvo, we didn’t return with drums of solid mud but those days often ran us about 16 or so hours round trip including being on site. There’s something special about freezing your butts off with your co-workers knowing that whatever could go wrong always does in the truck driving/concrete world. You’d hope you wouldn’t have to resort to chains, you’d hope your water tank wouldn’t freeze, you’d hope hydraulics stayed working and you’d hope the heat stayed on in your truck.

It was beautiful and so peaceful though…even in the chaos.

Back then, the radio stations didn’t offer service through that corridor nor did I have a CD player in my cab. Being a Mom and wife with always lots on my mind, I thrived on those quiet long drives.

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From what I recall, there hasn’t been a time in my life when I haven’t been at least partial adrenaline junkie and highly competitive. They say certain childhood experiences contribute to having a higher risk-taking score, sometimes it’s innate and it also could have been partly because my Dad always pushed and supported us to try new things. Who really knows.

For various reasons I’ve toned things back a bit in recent years but I do very much miss the adrenaline rush of taking risks, adventure sport and making more of an effort to explore new places and experience new activities…but I’m slowly getting back to it.

So, next on the list is a new type of ‘gear grabbing’ (when I can gather the funds mind you) that I’ve never tried before.

I’ve never been to the Area 27 site yet though I’ve seen lots of photos and have a lot of family who reside in Oliver. In a few weeks time, I’m taking Luke there (to Kartplex) to experience real Karting for the first time.

I hope to learn a few things for myself and get that adrenaline flowing back ;)

-Becky