It was 2018, and I was hauling refrigerated goods from Ontario to Phoenix. The I-10 was backed up for miles, and I knew I had a tight delivery window. So I did what any trucker with a little too much confidence does — I took a shortcut.
I turned off the highway into a canyon road I'd heard about from a fellow driver. It was supposed to save me 45 minutes. Instead, it cost me the whole day.
The road was a washboard nightmare — every bump, every pothole, every piece of gravel rattled through my rig. By the time I made it through that canyon, my suspension was shot. The shocks were leaking, the frame was bent, and I had to jack up the whole truck just to tighten every single bolt.
That mistake became my first slip — the one that shaped every mile I've driven since. Now I check every route twice. I know when to take the highway and when to find the scenic backroad. I know that a well-maintained truck is worth more than a fast delivery.
Every craftsman has a first slip. Mine taught me that the road doesn't forgive mistakes — but it does teach you how to fix them.