New Mexico has a Navajo Indian reservation with very large hay farms. We were dispatched a load from there hauling hay. The pay rate wasn’t good, but we were going to be in a good position for a better load after delivery, and there were a few other factors that led us to accept the load. We were led in a sort of convoy behind our leader, who was in a pickup truck, and three other trucks to a hay field. It was a bumpy ride for sure, and when we got to the loading point, they didn’t have any hay harvested for us, so we were directed to once again convoy to the next field.

We did this four times… the fourth time, we learned the difference between duals and super singles. The three trucks in front of us had dual tires (eight drive tires). We have super single drive tires. One super single tire is as wide as two duals are, approximately (so there are only four of them). The first truck went, no problem. The second, then the third, no problem. I was worried because this field was particularly muddy. But having watched those three guys, I was confident. Right up until I started spinning tires and got stuck about 50 yards in. I locked in the axle differential and started to get out the mud pretty well, only to get stuck again, and much deeper, and further from the road.

We did all the obligatory boards under the tires and digging and praying and cussing, and nothing worked. Meanwhile the three trucks in front of us got loaded and left. Not one of them offered to help. There were large tractors and other farm machinery happening by, looking and continuing on without offering to help. Our fearless leader who led us into this mud pit, got on his radio and asked for help for us. Nobody would help. I had long since lost my temper, and this young man was starting to cry, literally.

It was getting dark now, and we finally had to call a tow truck. Towing an 18 (14 actually) wheeler out of the mud is expensive. The tow truck man came and rescued us. We found somewhere to park for the night, off the reservation- literally. My fleet manager told me he wasn’t going to send trucks there anymore, and I knew I could get another load if I wanted.

At 6 am the next morning, I was there getting loaded (tarped, which was a pain in the ass), and I ran that load of hay. Why? Because I said I would.