The shifts are twelve hours. I go in at six pm and get off at 6 am five nights a week. We go in, pick up our keys, trip sheet, and envelope and hit the road.
There are usually a few other drivers standing around when I walk in. Day shift guys dropping the cars off, paying out at the end of their shift, and night drivers smoking cigarettes waiting patiently for their cars to arrive. There isn't much conversation. "How ya doin" and "have a good one," is all you really need. Sometimes we trade stories and joke around. For the most part I save my breath for the customers. twelve hours of even minimal polite conversation can take a toll.
I know which of the Crown Vics I have that night from the names and numbers written in large print on the dry erase board. I find my keys hanging from one of the hooks on the wall and walk out the door.
The engine roars to a start, I put it in reverse, back through the bottle neck end of the parking lot lined by a steel framed body shop and a six foot chain link fence.
Once I have space to straighten out, I park it, fill out my trip sheet, arrange my stuff (beverage, cigarettes, pens, etc). I hold the trigger on the black mic and say "3 is rolling zeros."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
