Stuck in a truck

As I was walking to work this morning, I noticed a few police cars blocking an intersection that I normally cross. I looked closer and saw that they were intentionally blocking the on-ramp to Storrow Drive, a major highway that runs along the Charles River. A semi was stuck on the ramp - the turn was too tight for the trailer to make. The sad thing was that there's a huge sign at the ramp entrance that says "No Trucks." I guess the truck driver was just following another one's lead - last night a different semi truck got stuck on Storrow Drive:


All of this reminded me of the time that Josh and I drove a big yellow Penske truck across the country a couple summers ago. The truck was full of my crap because I was moving from Houston to Boston to start grad school. We mapquested the whole route before we left Houston, but we didn't have street maps for every state in between.

Anyway, we did fine until we got to New York City. Our directions took us through areas that were relatively close to Manhattan (which, looking back, was really a recipe for disaster in itself), and at one point we had to get onto a road that had a "No Trucks" sign. The sign didn't specify why trucks weren't allowed, and it's not like we were carrying any hazardous materials or had a heavy tractor-trailer. I had rented the smallest truck they had, which was really just one step up from a large van. Also, we didn't know any other way to get around New York City, and we only had about 3 seconds to make the decision, so we decided to get on the road.

After a couple miles, it became abundantly clear why trucks weren't allowed on this stretch of highway - the low, curved bridges. The writing on the truck said that its height was 9 feet. The rental agreement, however, specified that we shouldn't go under anything that was lower than 10' 6".

At any other time, and in any other car, those stone bridges would have been very picturesque. They sloped gently over the road and many were covered with moss or other plants, which shone in the afternoon sun. However, we were in the big yellow truck, and the bridges kept getting lower and lower. We passed 11 feet, 10 feet, and then just barely above 9'. My heart was pounding and Josh's knuckles were white. The next bridge came up quickly just after we rounded a corner. The sign read 8' 8".

I panicked. There was no room, or time, to get over into the left lane where the peak of the bridge was higher. Josh slowed down as much as he could in the few feet that we had left, and I held my breath, preparing myself for the sickening scrape and jerk to a halt.

Miraculously, either the bridge or our truck was generously labeled. We slid under the bridge without scraping anything - and then we both started breathing again. Thankfully, there were only a few miles left to go on this road before we got back on the interstate, and the rest of the bridges were above 9 feet.

Once we got to Boston, our directions told us to get onto Storrow Drive to go the rest of the way to my new apartment. Josh refused. There was no way either of us was taking any more chances with low bridges. At least on Storrow Drive though, they have the good sense to post why large trucks shouldn't get on the road.

Maybe height is the default reason why trucks aren't allowed on certain roads, so that's why it's not usually posted. I don't know; I'm not much of a truck driver. I never paid much attention to those signs on the interstate that show the clearance height of upcoming overpasses, but after our trip through New York, I notice them all the time. And these ones hit close to home...