Monday morning meant going back to work. My truck had been loaded since Friday, so I simply took it over and headed towards the first customer. On the way, I called my colleague Jožko. We discovered that he was only about a minute ahead of me and heading to exactly the same customer. After checking in, we had some time to talk in person.
The unloading went smoothly, and I eventually spent more time waiting for empty pallets than doing anything else. The work itself does not bother me, but all that endless back-and-forth over empty pallets is something I certainly will not miss in my next job.
While talking to Jožko, I said: “Mate, I didn’t go to Hungary last week, so I’m bound to end up there again now.” A few moments later, my dispatcher told me to collect a load for Hungary from our central warehouse. 😂
I did not mind. The more different routes and kilometres I complete, the more experience I gain. At that moment, I had no idea how quickly that thought would be put to the test.
“You Have to Figure Everything Out”
At the warehouse, I discovered that I was taking 29 pallets of vinegar to Szeged, plus one unusual pallet of syrup for another customer. I immediately began thinking about the weight distribution. We even have instructions beside the loading bays loading maximum 29 pallets and showing us how to position them so that the freight is distributed correctly.
I was not refusing the job. I simply wanted a clear answer about how I was supposed to load this particular combination safely when it did not match those instructions. Instead, I was told that the boss had made the decision and that I had to be able to figure everything out.
This is exactly what can make me angry. Not the work, the kilometres or the journey to Hungary, but the moment when somebody else makes the decision and leaves all the responsibility to the driver who must actually take the truck onto the road.
Why can we not simply follow the rules?
I photographed the loading instructions and asked my dispatcher to send me written directions explaining how the pallets should be arranged. When I received them, I replied that I would follow the company’s decision, but I would not pay any potential fine. He agreed.
I carefully checked both CMR consignment notes and added the listed weights together. The result was eight kilograms above the maximum. With an entire truckload, eight kilograms was hardly a dramatic difference, but the principle mattered.
A driver must pay attention to what he signs, what he carries and what responsibility he accepts.
Of Course They Sent Me to the Scales
At the beginning of Hungary’s M1 motorway towards Budapest, trucks pass through a control system. Until then, the information board had always told me to continue straight ahead. This time, for the first time, it directed me towards the scales.
Of course.
I had spent the entire morning questioning the weight distribution and asking for written instructions and that was the exact day when I was selected for my first Hungarian weight check. I told myself: fine. If there is a penalty, the company will pay it. I had warned them, checked the documents and kept the written instructions. I prepared my paperwork and waited.
After a while, the officer opened his window and said:
“It’s okay. Okay, go, go.”
No fine, no explanation and no problem. All the tension immediately left my body. I felt relieved and happy that I had apparently distributed the freight correctly.
The Hardest Loading Bay of My Career
In Szeged, they sent me to loading bay number one. As soon as I saw it, I realised that this would not be an ordinary reversing manoeuvre.
I had to reverse from a narrow street and around a bend. There was a concrete wall on one side and steel barriers on the other. The rear doors of the semi-trailer had to remain open, making it even harder to judge exactly where the vehicle ended. The battered corner of the concrete wall showed that plenty of drivers had struggled there before me.
The first attempt did not work, so I pulled forward and tried again. The second attempt was not right either, so I adjusted the angle and reversed once more. I did not need to prove to anybody that I could do it on my first attempt. I did not care who might be watching. My only goal was to position the semi-trailer safely without damaging anything. After approximately four attempts, I was finally there. In several places, only a few centimetres remained between the truck, the concrete wall and the steel barriers.
At the beginning of my trucking career, a loading bay like this would have covered me in a cold sweat. I might have become nervous because people were watching or because I felt that I was holding somebody up. This time, I kept a cool head and calmly corrected every attempt until it worked.
The more kilometres I drive, the more experienced I become.
After the most difficult reversing manoeuvre of my trucking career, at least the unloading itself was easy. Their workers unloaded the truck quickly, without wasting any time.
Five Minutes Left on the Tachograph
From Szeged, I continued towards the second customer with the single unusual pallet of syrup. I had one hour and 45 minutes of driving time left before my mandatory break, while the navigation estimated a journey of one hour and 30 minutes. There was some reserve, but I still had no idea what kind of road was waiting for me.
Both Google Maps and my truck Garmin sent me along the same route. There were no low bridges or restrictions, but the road was in an absolutely disastrous condition. There were potholes, broken and almost unpaved sections, and tractors. I could barely drive faster than 40 kilometres per hour, and in some places I had my hands full simply keeping the truck safely on the road.
I managed it. Touch wood, just like everything else so far.
I reached the customer with the tachograph already flashing and approximately five minutes of driving time remaining. When the worker began showing me where to reverse, I explained that I first had to take my mandatory 45-minute break.
The journey back reminded me of my previous long-haul routes to Spain and Germany. I played some music and continued towards Slovakia. I wanted to reach the Rovinka rest area, but a traffic jam on the highway changed my plans. I parked near the border instead, without toilets or any other facilities.
A Seal and Wednesday’s Final Push
On Wednesday, I collected a mixed load for another company warehouse. For the first time, the semi-trailer was sealed even though I was only transporting freight between two of our own warehouses.
The reason was unpleasant. Some drivers had apparently stolen products from previous loads. I cannot understand this. I do not pretend to be perfect, but taking something that does not belong to me would never even cross my mind.
I am simply an honest man.
I arrived at my destination at 17:35. The warehouse worker was already waiting beside the entrance gate so that he could open it immediately. I had the feeling that everybody knew I was still on the road and had coordinated the unloading so that the freight could be delivered before the warehouse closed. Part of me enjoyed that feeling. I had a clear task, and I could see that my arrival mattered to somebody. At the same time, I knew that nobody’s life depended on this delivery.
I ate a good dinner and felt proud of myself. During those first three days, I dealt with a questionable loading plan, passed my first Hungarian weight inspection, reversed into the hardest loading bay of my career and survived a terrible rural road with only five minutes remaining on my tachograph.
The greatest result was the calmness I felt in situations that would have caused me enormous stress only a few months earlier.
The second part of CW 35 continues with Ilava, an unexpected hike, wild blackberries, animals in the forest, Friday chaos and another moment that reminded me why I love this demanding trucking life.