Torture by Warning Buzzer

The day before yesterday I was near Chicago, and parked for the night. I decided to run the truck for an hour or so just to make sure the batteries didn't die during the night. About 20 seconds after I turned the truck on, the message panel told me that the coolant was dangerously low, and the warning buzzer came on. Obviously I was concerned. I had just checked the coolant at my last fuel stop a couple of hours before, and it was full. Thinking I had sprung a leak, I popped the hood open, jumped out of the truck and checked it again. The level had dropped a little, but it was still pretty much full. I waited for a couple of agonizing minutes for the truck to figure out there was no dire situation here and shut the buzzer off, but it didn't. Now, you have to understand that this is quite possibly the most horrible, loudest buzzer you have ever heard. Kind of like in the movies, when a building is under a bomb threat and there are all these flashing red lights and the emergency buzzer is blaring as people rush from the building before it blows. Picture that, only there is no bomb. Nothing (hopefully) is going to blow. And it won't shut off. It's incessant. So I decide I will top up the coolant and that should turn the buzzer off. Only problem is, there are only two service stations there and neither of them carries the red coolant, which is of course, what I use. So I message my company and ask them if they have another truck coming by, can he please bring me some? Why, yes, of course. He'll be there in the morning. During the night I had to wake up and run the truck a few times because it was very cold and I didn't want the poor thing to freeze up and die, so during this time the buzzer was continually blaring away. I shut the truck off right in the nick of time, just before the brink of insanity.
In the morning, the other driver came by and topped up my coolant for me, bid me a good day and continued on his way. Problem solved. Or not. The buzzer was still on. Frustrated, I decided to try resetting the message system by cycling the key into the on position several times in quick succession. It didn't work. I messaged the shop. They asked me to just deal until I got back to the shop in a day or two. I told them I cannot last a day or two. I will be in psychiatric care before then. They said to stop by a shop en route and have it checked. But first I had to make three stops around Chicago, which took the better part of the day. So I kept hitting the ESC button on the truck's computer, which gave me exactly 10 seconds of silence before the buzzer came back on. ALL DAY. Then I struck pay dirt. Here are the messages that went back and forth between me and the shop via satellite computer.

SHOP: Can you take it to the Volvo shop in Aurora, IL?
Lizzy: No, that is way out of route. Any other shops?
SHOP: How's Morris, IL?
Lizzy (after a long pause): Sorry, I am not trying to ignore you, it's just that I am trying to hit the ESC button, type messages to you and drive in a snowstorm. You are gonna have to wait till I get to Alsip. But I NEED to find a shop. I am seriously going to have to put my earbuds in and crank my music to survive this and keep my sanity!!
SHOP: Ok, well let us know if any of the shops we mentioned is on your route so we can call in that you are coming.
Lizzy (from the shop in Alsip, IL, where I picked up an empty trailer): Dear shop, being the resourceful woman that I am, I have solved the buzzer problem by batting my eyelashes a few times and pulling the 'dumb blonde' on the nearest mechanic and having him unplug the buzzer. So I am fine now till such a time as I get back to our shop. No rush. Sincerely, Lizzy.
SHOP: Nice!!! We should send you out for blown turbos and other ridiculously expensive repairs. You could save us a lot of money!! Have a safe trip! :)

And so my two days of torture was at an end, thanks to my superior survival skills. Being female has it's benefits!!

Confessions Of a Window Shopper

Okay, let me just start by saying.........oh, what the hell, might as well get right to it.
As I have said before, men are beautiful. Also hot. And sexy. Sometimes. Which brings me to a point. Yes, I look at you. If you are extremely hot, I am definitely looking. Unless I think you notice. Then I give you the old, "Pervert. Of course I wasn't looking at you, you just wish I was" look to save face. So here's the deal. Allow me to enlighten men everywhere with a couple of easy to follow, point- form observations.

1) I window shop. ( This is when I am driving on the highway. Most women window shop for clothes and shoes. My window shopping involves checking out guys in pickup trucks.)

2) Don't worry, I do this safely. Eyes on the road first, men second.

3) If you are driving beside my transport truck, I can see right into your pickup truck, so please avoid doing any dudely things like picking your nose or scratching your balls till you pass me.

4) Just because I CAN see you, doesn't mean I want you to unzip your pants. Please, keep it PG. It doesn't turn me on. It makes me call the police.

5) The best thing you could do is wave or possibly blow me a kiss, then get the hell gone.

6) You should be flattered, but don't let it lead to stupidity on your part, cause we all know too well the stupidity of which you are capable.

So there you have it. I have confessed. And to your wife/girlfriend I say, stop giving me dirty looks, bitch, and be glad SOMEONE thinks you got a catch, cause god knows your in-laws don't.

Ladies, Please- I'm straight!

The other day I was in the bathroom and ran into a rather butchy looking woman, who seemed to think it was a great place to introduce yourself. She was awfully talkative, but I thought nothing of it till she started mentioning her "girlfriend" and other extra-curricular activities. Then it all made sense. Now don't get me wrong, if you're a woman, and you're into women, that's your business. But please, stop hitting on me, ladies. I am straight. As straight as it gets. Men are beautiful. You are not. You are not even pulling off the dudely look in an attractive way. (If there is a way to make that attractive)
I'm sorry if I'm insulting anyone here, but just cause you kind of look like a big, fat, ugly dude in plaid and workboots, does not make me attracted to you. Because you are not a man. And may I just say, that while I am flattered that you think I'm incredibly sexy and beautiful, (ok, those may be my words), I would just like to think there are some truckers out there who will give me my space and not bother me. And here's a hint- if it's a tall blonde carrying 2 chihuahuas wearing sweaters, she is probably not gay, and she is probably me. Thank you.