Another working week started at the tachograph service center. After a recent software update, my tachograph had stopped showing my remaining driving time. They couldn’t find anything wrong, so I asked them to restart it. Believe it or not, that worked.
Monday was calm after that. At our central warehouse, 30 pallets of vinegar were waiting for me to take to Vienna.
What kind of week would it be if I didn’t transport vinegar somewhere? 😂
That evening, I stopped in Bratislava, where temperatures reached almost 40°C. Inside the cab, it was even hotter. At the parking area, I met a Slovak driver whose tyre had blown out. I lent him my trolley jack so he could remove the wheel while waiting for roadside assistance. It was a small thing, but truck drivers simply have to help each other.
A fellow truck driver waiting for roadside assistance after a tyre blowout.
Pallets and a Night at Home
On Tuesday morning, I continued to Vienna, where I faced another one of my least favourite parts of trucking – pallets. One worker claimed that one was damaged, even though I didn’t think it was. The language barrier didn’t help either, because I don’t speak German and he didn’t speak English.
After seven weeks in this job, I can honestly say that arguing about pallets is one of the things I enjoy the least.
I eventually headed back to Slovakia, picked up another 33 pallets of freight and made it to Martin by late afternoon. After talking with Jožko, another new driver at our company, I enjoyed something I really appreciated – dinner, a shower and a night in my own bed.
Forty Degrees and a Different Kind of Pressure
On Wednesday, I unloaded in Liptovský Mikuláš and picked up another 28 pallets for Košice. Unfortunately, my independent cab air conditioning stopped working that day. With outside temperatures between 36 and 40°C, the timing couldn’t have been much worse.
I spent the night at a truck parking area in Košice. The cab was incredibly hot, and I had to start the engine several times just to cool it down.
The next morning, I waited about an hour before unloading. The warehouse was understaffed, with practically one worker trying to keep up with everything. I told them not to rush and that we would manage it calmly. After seven weeks of driving mainly around Slovakia and Czechia, I have started noticing something that bothers me:
At many places, people seem to be constantly rushing, nervous, swearing or shouting at each other.
I understand that many workplaces are understaffed and overloaded. But even during a difficult day, I don’t think it costs anything to say hello, thank you and goodbye.
I have a similar feeling about some Slovak roads. The road through Turček between Turčianske Teplice and Kremnica is a good example. Navigation might show a 90 km/h speed limit, but behind the wheel of a 40-tonne combination on a narrow and badly damaged road, reality is very different.
At the same time, I can feel myself becoming more confident behind the wheel. Tight service yards and difficult manoeuvres don’t stress me as much anymore. I simply slow down, take my time and do what needs to be done.
One Forgotten Parking Brake
After a tyre inspection in Košice and another loading in Tornaľa, I returned to Martin. My tractor unit needed to go into the workshop because of the broken air conditioning, so I had to connect my loaded semi-trailer to a replacement tractor. I switch trailers regularly now and have become comfortable doing it. But this time, I was in a hurry to get home.
After coupling to the trailer, I connected the air lines but skipped one crucial step – I forgot to apply the tractor’s parking brake. The trailer was fully loaded and the combination was standing on a slight downhill slope. When I released the trailer brake, all 40 tonnes started moving forward.
Luckily, the cab door was open. I ran, jumped inside and applied the parking brake. The truck stopped and nothing happened, but my heart rate must have been around 200.
I had seen videos of runaway trucks before and always wondered how something like that could happen. Then it happened to me. Not because I didn’t know what to do. I was simply rushing and skipped one step. It was a powerful reminder that everything around a truck needs to be done slowly, consciously and preferably checked twice. Saving a few seconds isn’t worth it.
Five Hours for a Few Minutes of Work
Thursday was already my second night at home that week. On Friday morning, I left with 27 pallets for Olomouc. The weather had changed dramatically – temperatures close to 40°C had dropped to around 19°C.
I reached the customer without problems, but then the waiting began. One hour, two, three… In the end, I waited approximately five hours for a loading dock. The actual unloading took only a few minutes.
At least there was a canteen where I could get a proper meal. The worst part of this kind of waiting isn’t necessarily the five hours themselves. It’s that the time isn’t really yours. You can’t leave because you have to be ready to move to the dock at any moment.
When they finally unloaded me, I headed back toward Martin. My dispatcher wanted me to pick up another load that afternoon, but I was already tired. I parked the truck in Martin and finished another working week.
This week reminded me of one simple thing. In transport, everyone seems to be rushing – warehouses, dispatchers, drivers and people on the roads. But behind the wheel of a truck, I am gradually learning to do exactly the opposite: take my time, stay focused and not get pulled into the rush around me.
Because sometimes, all it takes is skipping one single step.