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Truck Drivers Falter Under the Weight of High Fuel Prices

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"If you are a remaining player, that's great news for you," Broughton says. Truckers have little recourse to stop the industry shift, but some are trying.

On April 28, J.B. Schaffner, a driver from Nocona, Texas, gathered about 250 truckers at the Gables Truck Stop in Pennsylvania. Schaffner had spent months organizing the meeting, mainly through the trucking Web site he created.

The truckers convoyed to Washington, D.C., with air horns blasting and American flags waving from the trucks, to protest the cost of diesel.

"You look at the pay scale, it's treated as though this is the couch potato's answer to a job," Schaffner says. "That's our lives that we put out there, and everybody is being impacted by this one thing, the rising cost of fuel. Everybody is losing everything out there. They really should put us on an endangered species list."

A year ago, Schaffner worked as an owner/operator. His brother also owned a truck, and they followed in their father's and grandfather's footsteps as independent drivers. Schaffner and his brother have since sold their trucks.

"I had a nice dream truck. A Peterbilt 379, kind of the ideal thing everybody wants," Schaffner says. "It got to the point, even at $3 [a gallon] it was so hard, I was barely making ends meet."

He now works for a small company based in New Jersey. The day before the protest, Schaffner hadn't been home in almost four months.

The truckers rolled into Washington and parked at a football stadium. They marched several blocks to the Capitol building to demand that the government open the U.S. oil reserve and place a cap on fuel prices.

A senator from Maine met with a small group of the truckers, but beyond that, not much happened. Schaffner is now trying to organize truckers to shut down and stop hauling freight.

"Don't call it a strike; we have no choice. We cannot afford to drive anymore," Schaffner says. "Call it a going-out-of-business sale. Not even a sale. We're just going out of ­business."
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Ken Becker, an independent driver from the Houston area, prides himself on being a shrewd businessman, making a living with two assets: himself and his truck.

Becker, 53, started driving 20 years ago as a way out of the oil field. He saved $5,000 and bought his first truck.

He does almost all of his work for a company in Oklahoma, because the company pays a good fuel surcharge. Becker says if he had a truck payment, he probably wouldn't survive.

His Peterbilt is 11 years old, and a few years ago he resisted the urge to buy a new truck. Instead, he started depositing what was equal to a truck payment — when he could afford it — in an interest-bearing bank account.

Becker now uses that money to pay for routine maintenance on his truck and any on-the-road emergencies. He can't imagine driving without the money to repair a flat tire, which he knows some drivers are doing.

Becker meets plenty of drivers who are barely making it, especially the large number who entered lease-purchase programs with big companies. The programs basically offer a chance for drivers to own their trucks.

Until the truck is paid for, the driver can haul freight only for the specific company, at the price the company sets. And the driver pays fuel costs. Some of the programs advertise trucks for a $0 down payment and no credit check.

"They're almost destined for doom," Becker says. "They're working hard, and they think life is a bowl of cherries. Then nine times out of ten they fail.

"The carrier can quit moving them, but if you're not hauling any freight, you're not making any money. It's about like sharecropping in a sense."

If Becker couldn't change his business plan, his money would suffer. He has started leasing his truck to another driver during his down time. His maintenance costs have soared, but the truck has to move for Becker to make money.

"I don't know if I could suggest to anyone to do what I put myself through," Becker says. "If I had it like I know some of these drivers do, it would be very ­difficult."

And it's not just the drivers who are ­hurting.

The Interstate Motor Lodge, west of Houston, is a well-known stop among truckers looking for a place to stay at night. The lodge, which opened in 1968, caters heavily to truckers. There is free, gated parking for 18-wheelers, and special rates — about $40 a night — are offered to drivers. The motel has direct billing for a handful of small trucking companies.

Erica Cruz, who works the night shift at the motor lodge, says that about 95 percent of the clientele are truck drivers. The motor lodge has operated at about half occupancy since the first of the year.

"Our owner always calls me to see how we're doing, and she always complains about the diesel prices," Cruz says. "It's about shut us down."

Near the Interstate Motor Lodge is the Key Truck Stop and Restaurant. With its gravel parking lots and a cafe that allows smoking, the Key Truck Stop is a refuge for truck drivers looking for a change from the sprawling "travel centers" and "family" restaurants a few miles west.

But the Key Truck Stop is struggling. The ownership has changed several times in the last two years. A sign above the building advertises a 24-hour cafe, but the restaurant started closing at 9 p.m. several months back.

Judy, who asked that her last name not be used, has worked as a waitress at the Key Restaurant for 17 years. She makes $2.60 an hour plus tips. The restaurant once stayed packed during breakfast and dinner hours, and Judy averaged about $70 in tips a day. She could make $100 on a good morning.

Now, she says, she's lucky to make $30. That's less than the dishwasher, who makes $7 an hour. The owners sometimes tell the dishwasher to stay home, and Judy will stay late to wash dishes and mop the floors.

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