A Game of Chicken

Im sure everyone can think of a time when you were sitting at a red light or in traffic somewhere and you heard the faint howl of a siren. You instinctively check your mirrors and the traffic around you and see nothing. The sirens wail is getting louder and louder so you look around again and the POOF....fire truck!
You watch it go zoomin by and softly chuckle to yourself because although you heard it coming, it still managed to startle you as it went by. You watch it weave in and out if traffic and what seems like the speed of light and you think to yourself "Man! That would be a lot of fun."
Well I'm hear to tell you it is in fact, a lot of fun, but like everything else we do, driving the rigs can be just as precarious. But, as the Chauffeur (the driver/operator) you not only have the responsibility of the half a million dollar rig your wheelin and the lives of the other guys on board, you have to worry about the civilians driving around too. Chances are, if you hit a passenger car with a thirty to ninety thousand pound fire truck .....it's not going to be pretty. Theres also the other responding emergency vehicles you need to look out for. After all, everyone's headed to the same address but pretty much all coming from different directions, so your bound to cross paths with another emergency vehicle.
So it's definitely safe to say that driving, like most of the job, has an inherent level of danger. In fact, vehicle accidents are the second leading cause of firefighter deaths in the line of duty.
But also like everything else in the fire service, it takes a lot of training. Sure, you may already know how to drive, and its pretty much the same concept, but for the most part its way different. And there's no rear view mirror which generally kinda freaks people out. So backing up is usually the hardest thing to learn. In fact, when I started drivers training, I began with a nice stroll through town, then pulled into an industrial park and practiced backing up. Before I would get out of the drivers seat that night, I would drive backwards for 2 1/2 hours straight.....literally.
When we finally got back to the station, I asked why I was given a blunt and simple answer....."Any idiot behind the wheel can make it go forward but some people, no matter how long they practice, never learn to drive backwards and in this job it's just as important."
You wouldn't think, and I would soon learn, that aside from backing it into the bays after every call, there will be times when you absolutely need to know how to drive backwards using your mirrors.
After a few months of "DT" (drivers training) I was finally ready for my test. The Chief took me out in the wagon with 2 other guys and instructed me around town.
Now I had been driving training in the engine at least a few days a weeks for about 3 months, so I felt pretty comfortable behind the wheel. But this is the Chief, or "Pops" as we called him, was watching my every move, and if that wasn't bad enough, Pops worked as a Traffic Sgt. for the local PD so I had to be on point.
"Turn here, pull in there, back up to there, watch the yellow line, how fast are you going? where's the switch for the emergency lights? Talk me through putting it in pump gear?"
On and on and on..... I couldn't get one answer out and he was firing off another, it was nerve racking as hell.
"Head over to the college." he barked.
"Yes sir." I answered.
"Pull in the main drive and stop."
I again acknowledge his order with a "Yes sir" and then it hit me. It's time for the final part of test.
I pulled in, stopped, put it in neutral and set the air breaks.(fire trucks don't have "P"ark)
Pops shoots me a quick "Stay here." then gets out.
I hear the back cab door open and he starts talking to the two guys in the back, the door closes, then he hops back up front and explains to me what he expects me to do.
As safely and as quickly as I safely could, I had to take off, do one complete loop around the parking lot on the right, ziging and zaging around light poles and handicap parking signs, come back across the main drive way into the parking lot in the left and do one fast loop the whole way around, back trough a set of tight turns, then change direction within a given space and come back through the same set of tight turns forward, Stop, apply the parking break, engage the pump, fire up the generator, turn on the scene lights and accurately flow water to the other two guys who would hop off and stretch a hand line when I stop.
"Got it?" he asked.
And again with my mind going a hundred miles an hour, all I could muster was a "Yes sir."
"Good. I'll be watching from over at the hydrant, I'll wave when I'm ready."
I gave him a nod and he began to climb back out of the rig.
Then I hear "Oh yea, one more thing..."
"Yea Chief?" I asked.
".....don't wreck my fuckin engine." He added. Then shut the door.
Now my mind was going...."Does he really think I'll wreck it?" "Is he pissed?" "WTF!!"
I watched him walk over to the hydrant, he turned, gave me a wave.
My heart was racing, my palms soaked & white from gripping the steering wheel. I took a deep breath, honked the horn twice (fire service signal for moving forward)
"HIT IT!" shouted one of the guys in the back.
I released the parking break, shifted into drive and off I went.
It wasn't far into the pre determined course when I started to feel at ease. I seemed to take to driving & operating almost naturally to a point where I could practically drive by feel instead of intense concentration.
I worked through the various tasks like clock work. When it was all said & done, the Chief gave me a few small pointers and then gave me his blessing. I was free to drive the wagon, on calls.
We then began to repack the handling, the hooked to a hydrant to replace the water in the tank we had used, then headed back to the fire house. I pulled up and swung the engine away from the fire house, then began to back into the bays. Using my mirrors, I made minor adjustments steering the rig from left to right, trying to get the rig straight. Then, as fate would have it, "CRUNCH!"
My stomach instantly knotted and I immediately hit the break & looked out the drivers window and noticed I hit the side mirror off the building.
"So much for driving" I thought.
I looked at the Chief who was sitting in the Officers seat (front passenger) and mumbled the only thing I could..... "Sorry Chief..."
He just looked at me, his non-verbals said it all....
Then he barked, "Well don't just sit there, put the damn thing alway."
So I pulled forward a little & straightened out, then, with one broken mirror, finally got the engine in the bay.
I hopped out of the wagon, plugged it in (fire trucks have on board chargers to keep batteries and firefighting equipment charged) grabbed my gear to go hang it up when I hear the Chief from behind me.
"We'll, at least you got it out if the way early..."
I turned and saw him looking at the mirror.
"Sorry Chief." Was again all I could muster.
"Well, it like this," he replied. "There are those that have, and those that will..." Referring to the fact that I banged up the wagon.
".....just try not to make it a habit."
"I won't" I replied.
"Good, now go down to the maintenance room, grab a new mirror and get it on before we get a call."
I shot him another "yes sir" and then off I went to fix what I had broken.
On a side note, in true firehouse fashion, that broken mirror would show up every where for the next few weeks. From my locker, to my pillow, to under my sheets.... I didn't hear the end of that for some time.....and rightfully so.

It would be a few days before I got the chance, but with every squawk on the radio...my heart would start to race a little and I'd wonder....Is this the one?...but it never was. About 4 days after my test, I was sitting around the firehouse doing whatever when someone manualy rang the bells, a pre-warning of an incoming run (fire call) I, like everyone else, slide the pole to the apparatus bays and step into my boots.
"What is it!?" Someone shouted
"Vehicle fire....in 4's due" (station 4's district) someone else replied....then added "He's wheelin the wagon" and pointed to me. I finished pulling my bunker pants up, threw the suspenders over my shoulders, grabbed my helmet and coat then made a B line to the engine threw my coat and helmet in a compartment and climbed into the drivers seat.
My mind was going a mile a minuet, hastily sifting through the Rolodex of training in my head as my heart raced and pounded so hard I could see my shirt moving (literally) I reached down next to the seat and turned the battery switch....the dash lit up, the bells & buzzers chirped, and the mobile firebrand radio sprang to life with a pre-alert and the dispatchers voice putting out the call. This was for real.
I reached down, pushed the ignition switch, and then the start button. The rig shutters a bit as big diesel motor growls to life and my heart races even faster. Next I think, "air breaks" so I press my foot on the break pedal and reach for the big yellow parking break button, then stop... for the life of me, I couldn't keep my foot tightly on the break pedal.
"What the fuck!?"
I look down at my right leg and its shaking, and i dont meen shsking like I'm cold. It was visibly hopping up and down on the break pedal. The feeling of adrenalin mixed with a nervous excitement is so intense It tool everything I had to control it.
So I stop, sit up and take a few big deep breaths to try like hell to calm down. Then "SLAM" the officer door is yanked shut, damn near making me jump outta my skin. I look over at the officers seat and its my Captain, Keith (we call him "Fuss")
Knowing its my first run behind the wheel, He looks over at me and asks, " You Ok?"
I shot him a nervous nod.
"Well then, let's get going" he said.
I took on more deep breath, pressed the break pedal, released the parking break, shifted into drive and gave it some gas.
I pulled out onto the apron and made the left, my leg still shaking a little and my knuckles a pale white from gripping the oversized steering wheel tight.
I made it down the road about a quarter mile, and wouldn't you know it....traffic. Fuss stepped on the siren pedal an yanked the air horn chain..."Go Left!" He yelled....
I hesitated for a moment the he added, "Go left....Take it at an angle.."
Yup....he wanted me to hop the median strip & take the on-comming lanes. (as I'm sure all of you good drivers out there reading this know, by law, you are supposed to pull to the right and stop for emergency vehicles, so we're taught to always pass on the left.....or at least try too whenever possible.
With my heart still pounding out of my chest, I ease the steering wheel left and up and over the concrete hump separating the lanes and continue on in the oncoming lanes towards what is statistically the second busies intersection in the state. (in drivers training, they make it a point to repeatedly tell you that, not to scare you but to beat into your head that there are a lot more people on the road than just you and your firetruck)
Ahead of me is a white pick-up...I lifted my foot off the gas a little....
"Don't slow down, He'll move..." said Fuss.
So I kept going.....and so did the white pick-up.
Now you've all heard the phrase (or something to the effect) "He who has the most lug nuts, wins."
The guy driving the white truck obviously didn't get the memo. Even with all these flashing red lights & the screaming siren coming from the 34,000 pound fire truck coming at him...this guy wasn't going to move......or stop.
In a split second I surveyed my options......
I couldn't go left because someone in the oncoming slow lane had stopped, and there wasn't the room to maneuver around the stopped car and the ass hole in the white truck with out a good chance of smacking the stopped car head on.
I could go right and back over the median into the fast lane on "my side" of the road, only it had morphed into the left turn lane with 2 cars stopped at the approaching red light, waiting to turn. But if I timed it right and keep my speed (about 35 mph) there still a decent chance ill make it.
I holler over my shoulder to the back of the cab, "Hang on guys!"
Then, sounding like an auctioneer, I hear Fuss in the officers seat...
"What are you doing?What are you doing?What are you doing?What are you doing?...What the hell are you doing!?"
I ignored him, give it a little more gas & turn the wheel slight right, taking the rig back up over the concrete median, concentrating on the inches I may or may not have to spare. Then, as soon as I clear of the white pick-up I come back fast to the left and back over the median strip. I manage to keep from plowing into the vehicles in the turn lane and squeak by with out a scratch and continue through the intersection and back to my side of the road.
"Holy shit that was close!" Fuss exclaims.
I calmly reply, "Sorry about that but I didn't think I would have stopped in time." Now I wasn't going fast, but he was coming toward me to closing the gap even faster. Not to mention 35 mph seems a lot faster when your duckin & weavin through traffic.
We continue on our way, crossing into on coming traffic only one or two more times just to get around stopped vehicles and as we turned onto the road with the vehicle fire, we were returned in service (canceled.)
Now what I'm unable to get across in writing is how quick that little game of chicken was. The entire event took a fraction of the time that it took you to read it. If I had to put a number to it, I'd say about 4 seconds at best, but that still doesn't do it any justice.
I would learn a lot from my first little jaunt in the engine...maneuvering through traffic, hopping the median and how much the pair of eyes in the officers seat helps. But the most important thing I learned that day was that civilians don't always move out of the way....even when your heading right at them.