Thirty-Four Hours
Thirty-four hours. It is a relatively short period of time, but then again, length of time seems to revolve around what you are doing. An hour at the dentist can drag on while an hour with family can seem to fly by. So thirty-four hours can be a long reset or a short time, depending on how you use that time. Drivers know the rules, know the clock, and know the feeling of watching those hours tick down. Some resets feel like a breath of fresh air. Others feel like you’re stuck in a holding pattern, waiting for the world to start moving again.
In general, I try to use any breaks to my advantage. In a day plus ten hours, I can usually get the inside of the truck cleaned. It’s amazing how fast a cab can go from organized to looking like a tornado passed through. A reset gives you the time to put everything back where it belongs. Of course, the windows and mirrors are cleaned, and the mirrors get a new coat of RainX. That’s one of those small habits that pays off every single day. You don’t appreciate a clean mirror until you’re backing into a tight dock at night and the rain is coming down sideways.
There is plenty of time to handle some small routine maintenance too. Greasing the chassis and liftgate is quick and easy. Maybe shocks need replacing. Maybe a mudflap bracket is loose. Wiper blades and washer fluid need replacing. Perhaps it is time to change that DEF pump filter or even the air dryer filter. Planning for that thirty-four-hour break can have you ready to make the most of it. If you know it is coming up, gather needed parts before being parked, and you can have some activities to pass the time. It beats sitting there staring at the clock or scrolling through your phone until your eyes glaze over.
But let’s say you’re caught up. The truck is clean, the maintenance is handled, and you still have twenty-nine hours and twelve minutes left on the reset. That’s when the question hits: now what? You can only nap so much. You can only wander around the truck stop so many times before you start recognizing the cracks in the pavement. That’s when you start thinking about how to use the time for something that actually benefits you.
You can always learn a new skill. I read a lot in my downtime, but sometimes you just want to do something. Something with your hands. Something that keeps your mind busy without feeling like work. I recently learned to braid paracord in different ways to make different items from it. It started as a way to pass a little time, and before long I had a small pile of keychains, zipper pulls, and a few odd items that I never considered making from paracord. It’s simple, inexpensive, and surprisingly relaxing. There’s something satisfying about taking a few feet of cord and turning it into something useful.
That’s the thing about a reset: it’s forced time, but it doesn’t have to be wasted time. You can pick up small hobbies that fit in a sleeper. Drawing. Journaling. Learning a few phrases in another language. Watching a video on how to fix something you’ve always paid someone else to fix. You don’t need a workshop or a classroom. You just need a little curiosity and a willingness to try something new.
A reset is also a good time to reset yourself. Walk a little. Stretch. Get a real meal if you’re near anything decent. Catch up on the things that get pushed aside when the miles are rolling and the clock is running your life. Thirty-four hours isn’t a vacation, but it’s enough time to breathe. Enough time to get your head straight before the next week starts.
Some drivers dread resets. Some look forward to them. For me, it depends on where I land and what kind of week I’ve had. But I’ve learned that the time goes faster, and feels better, when I put it to use. Whether it’s cleaning, fixing, learning, or just taking a moment to be a human being instead of a machine, those thirty-four hours can make the next stretch of miles a little easier.
And if all else fails, there’s always more paracord.
It’s not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it.
- Seneca
See you down the road,
Greg