Wally World Wanderings - and still the only 20 thread you need to read.

I have reached the Pinnacle of cool.

Nobody can match the awesomeness of what I got to experience today.

As I hit the kingpin on this trailer that had been backed into a dock at our store, but the doors forgotten to be opened because theyre swing doors and not a roll up door, a wave of fantastic, generalized incompetence rolled over me.

It consumed me to the point where I drooled down the front of my shirt.

Me headset which is ordinarily laying on the passenger seat hardly every used automatically flew across the cab and mounted itself firmly on my head. Boom mic in the proper upward position, of course.

My hands seemed to grow fingerless gloves all on their own. It was like magic.

I'd just showered at the DC a few hours earlier, but was amazed and honored when my jeans transformed themselves into oil, and chicken grease stained sweat shorts. At first I was worried about my dress, but then I noticed the sweat shorts had pockets. That makes them formal, and acceptable.

A smell rose up to meet my nostrils like a redneck through an ANTIFA crowd. My eyes watered. I gagged a bit. This was my new stench. The stench of being the Best In Crash. If I was to be of that caliber, I would have to learn to understand that this new smell could only be understood by the select few that had earned it. And I was now one of them. I drew in a deep breath through my nostrils and embraced my new stench.

My socks disappeared and my shoes turned into flip flops, which admittedly I saw as the natural next step in my new evolution. My toenails yellowed and grew exponentially in all directions. I began to feel almost God like.

As I backed out of the cab, I gained 450 pounds before I hit the ground. I could no longer see my feet.

I proudly displayed my requisite 2 feet of butt crack as my second foot hit the ground. I guess it hit the ground anyway. If there was anything underneath me it was now forever lost to my glorious girth.

Like the Lovercraftian "Old Ones", I simply went about my business with Cosmic Indifference. Whatever I may have just stepped on just doesn't matter anymore. It probably never did.

I hooked up the air lines then rolled the landing gear.

Sweating and panting as only a Grand Being of The Cosmos could, I walked to the cab, my new godlike stench melting the October snow around me for untold meters.

I pulled forward a few feet, and somewhere in the universe I heard a tow truck driver cursing loudly. Noises of crashes and crunching played in my ears from all over the lower 48 states. In my mind was the crisp, clear vision of a trailer being dragged through a ditch so deep the landing gear stopped all forward motion. Another one taking down a Walgreens drive through.

It was glorious. I was now part of the cosmic hive mind of destruction. I could feel the world around getting nervous just by my presence. And dammit, it needed to be nervous. I'm now of the the great ones! One of the self insured!

As quickly as a grand cosmic being of my size could, I did another quick walk around of this grand trailer which had gained me such status. I owed this trailer everything. More snow melted from my funk cloud. More noises and visions filled my ears and eyes. Endless displays of broken equipment and papers from insurance claims flew around my brain in a swirling vortex.

At least, I was to be this grand being for the next few hundred feet anyway.

When I dropped this trailer out of the way and unhooked I simply returned to boring, normal old me.

But I'll never forget my brief time as one of the greats.

One of the Diamond Drivers.

One of the Best In Crash.

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I have reached the Pinnacle of cool.

Nobody can match the awesomeness of what I got to experience today.

As I hit the kingpin on this trailer that had been backed into a dock at our store, but the doors forgotten to be opened because theyre swing doors and not a roll up door, a wave of fantastic, generalized incompetence rolled over me.

It consumed me to the point where I drooled down the front of my shirt.

Me headset which is ordinarily laying on the passenger seat hardly every used automatically flew across the cab and mounted itself firmly on my head. Boom mic in the proper upward position, of course.

My hands seemed to grow fingerless gloves all on their own. It was like magic.

I'd just showered at the DC a few hours earlier, but was amazed and honored when my jeans transformed themselves into oil, and chicken grease stained sweat shorts. At first I was worried about my dress, but then I noticed the sweat shorts had pockets. That makes them formal, and acceptable.

A smell rose up to meet my nostrils like a redneck through an ANTIFA crowd. My eyes watered. I gagged a bit. This was my new stench. The stench of being the Best In Crash. If I was to be of that caliber, I would have to learn to understand that this new smell could only be understood by the select few that had earned it. And I was now one of them. I drew in a deep breath through my nostrils and embraced my new stench.

My socks disappeared and my shoes turned into flip flops, which admittedly I saw as the natural next step in my new evolution. My toenails yellowed and grew exponentially in all directions. I began to feel almost God like.

As I backed out of the cab, I gained 450 pounds before I hit the ground. I could no longer see my feet.

I proudly displayed my requisite 2 feet of butt crack as my second foot hit the ground. I guess it hit the ground anyway. If there was anything underneath me it was now forever lost to my glorious girth.

Like the Lovercraftian "Old Ones", I simply went about my business with Cosmic Indifference. Whatever I may have just stepped on just doesn't matter anymore. It probably never did.

I hooked up the air lines then rolled the landing gear.

Sweating and panting as only a Grand Being of The Cosmos could, I walked to the cab, my new godlike stench melting the October snow around me for untold meters.

I pulled forward a few feet, and somewhere in the universe I heard a tow truck driver cursing loudly. Noises of crashes and crunching played in my ears from all over the lower 48 states. In my mind was the crisp, clear vision of a trailer being dragged through a ditch so deep the landing gear stopped all forward motion. Another one taking down a Walgreens drive through.

It was glorious. I was now part of the cosmic hive mind of destruction. I could feel the world around getting nervous just by my presence. And dammit, it needed to be nervous. I'm now of the the great ones! One of the self insured!

As quickly as a grand cosmic being of my size could, I did another quick walk around of this grand trailer which had gained me such status. I owed this trailer everything. More snow melted from my funk cloud. More noises and visions filled my ears and eyes. Endless displays of broken equipment and papers from insurance claims flew around my brain in a swirling vortex.

At least, I was to be this grand being for the next few hundred feet anyway.

When I dropped this trailer out of the way and unhooked I simply returned to boring, normal old me.

But I'll never forget my brief time as one of the greats.

One of the Diamond Drivers.

One of the Best In Crash.

View attachment 73218
That's just shameful.

I talked to a Cowan pulling a Swift trailer once and he said it was "****in embarrassing."
 
Maybe he experienced a wave of fantastic generalized incompetence as he read your elaborate memoir.
You can't hardly leave a Walmart, DC or store, only moving a hundred feet.

So he never left the yard.
 

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