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Day is night for the garbage collector By
Derrick Frazier
"Oh, I've had that hood ornament for years," chuckles Dave Smith. "I guess you could say it's my junkyard dog." With no further introduction, truck number four of the Logan City Waste Management Department begins its Tuesday morning rounds. The truck is about the size of four brown UPS trucks, stacked two by two and side by side, but barely any of that vast space is spent on the passenger side of the cab. Any person over four feet tall is likely to have their knees pressed against their chest pretty tightly, any person over five feet tall is likely to lose some circulation in their legs, and any person over six feet tall is in big trouble. This route covers the commercial receptacles in the downtown area between 1400 North and 400 North along Main Street and goes as far east as Utah State University's campus. Smith maneuvers the front-loading garbage truck expertly through a maze of telephone poles and illegally parked cars. At times the space between his truck and the foreign objects is barely enough to sneak a square of toilet paper into the gap, and two-ply would be pushing it. "I ought to know a few tricks by now," Smith says. " I've been on the job 20 years in May." A native of Cache Valley and graduate of Logan High School, Smith worked with a partner on a manual loading truck for 13 years, but in 1993 Logan switched to hydraulically operated trucks, and now a single driver handles each route. A commercial driver's license and the willingness to get up at 3 a.m. are the main qualifications for the job, according to Smith. "The best thing about this job is being able to work at your own pace, not having some boss breathing down your neck all the time," Smith says as he turns up the volume on the radio. The close confines of the cab reverberate with the bass-thumping sounds of the Red Hot Chili Peppers as Smith bobs his head slightly to the beat. Straight out of high school Smith worked as a mechanic, but once he had a family he decided to find something with good benefits that would also pay the bills. He hasn't lost his touch with cars though. "I still like to tinker around with my old Z-28 when I have time," he admits. Darkness blankets the city like maple syrup on flapjacks as Smith winds through a complicated maze of businesses and apartment buildings, deftly backing the 10 wheeler with the aid of a rearview video monitor. "The monitor only automatically kicks on when I go into reverse, but I use it all the time. It helps me stay wide awake, that annoying beep is like a huge alarm clock," Smith says. The clicking of buttons in the close confines of the cab sounds like the Temptations snapping their fingers to "Just My Imagination" as Smith raises and lowers the lift. The hydraulic whine of the equipment seems to be a complaint against being rudely awakened. As for himself, Smith says he sleeps from 10 p.m. to 3 a.m. and only takes a nap if he's really "bushed." "Most of the other drivers sleep during the day but it drives me crazy. I don't get a thing done if I don't stay up when I get home at noon," Smith explains. "I'll catch up on my sleep when I retire, or when I die, whichever comes first," says Smith. With retirement less than 10 years away and Smith in great health, he is pretty sure the former will precede the latter. "I'm not gonna say how old I am. Lets just say I'm old enough to be your Dad, but young enough that my boy doesn't mess with me yet," laughs Smith as he flexes his biceps for effect. Smith's ex-wife and son live in South Carolina, where Dave Jr. will soon graduate from high school. His only child turns 18 in a few months, and Smith will no longer have to pay child support, but he's afraid paying for college tuition will be worse. As the truck grumbles its way up the hill to campus, Smith suggests that people who are introverts, or "keep to themselves" tend to make the best employees for night shifts of any kind. "It takes people who don't depend on others for constant entertainment, and aren't social butterflies either," Smith says matter of factly. He enjoys night work because as long as his route gets done, he can work at a self-set pace without being bugged or supervised. With no one around to impress, wardrobe coordination becomes a little easier as well. Smith wears the same bright orange work shirt, blue jeans and steel-toed boots every day. Even his pet peeve reflects Smith's preference for solitude. "One thing I can't stand is the way college students drive," he said, "especially down 4th North in the middle of the night. Geeeeez!" From Smith's perspective, life is much easier in the summer when all the college kids are gone. The town isn't as wild for people who drive for a living. Smith's opinion is that not only does working after hours affect one's metabolism and immune system, it lowers one's energy level. "I never eat breakfast, I can't even drink coffee this early in the morning," Smith says. "I take pretty good care of myself so I don't get sick, I can't afford to miss any time." To stay active and energetic Smith spends much of his free time hunting and fishing. His constant companion on these outings is Teddy Bear, his black Labrador retriever. "Ted's my buddy," Smith says with a grin that makes his mustache move like a caterpillar in a footrace. "We hunt birds right in my back yard in Nibley." After driving anywhere from 60 to 110 miles a day on the job, Smith prefers staying close to home for most of his recreation. He says he gets sick of sitting still, driving all the time, just like some people get sick of sitting in an office all the time. Smith works the 4 a.m. to noon shift from Monday to Friday with an occasional Saturday or holiday determined by seniority. Anything beyond his scheduled 40 hours pays time and a half, but these benefits come with a price. "Government jobs pay O.K. but they're pretty picky about certain things too," says Smith. He gets 30 minutes for lunch and two 15 minute breaks. "I guess that's pretty standard with other jobs but they're so anal about it that it kills me." On- the- job training can be an interesting, if not traumatizing, experience as well. Smith spilled three disposals in a row his first day on the job. "I know it looks simple, but doing it on your own for the first time is a little tricky. The guy training me just drank his coffee and smiled. I had to get out and shovel it all in, took me close to an hour. All he said was, `You'll learn.'" Near death experiences, according to Smith are a dime a dozen, especially when maneuvering the 38,000 pound truck on icy roads during the winter months. "Here we are now," Smith says as he fumbles for his seatbelt, "Seventh East." The steepness of the hills around campus together with a little black ice combine to form what Smith calls "suicide rides." Describing several such brake-pumping, knuckle-whitening, hurried-prayer offering rides down campus hills, Smith concludes, "They're the ones that really make your butt pucker." It is not uncommon, according to Smith, for garbage truck drivers to be involved in a few accidents each winter. "I bailed out once when the truck started doing its own thing, but it ended up hitting a snowbank and no harm was done," Smith says. "Sometimes I'm the thing that goes bump in the night." Dave Smith doesn't consider himself, his occupation, or the hours he works to be unique, let alone strange. Our night is his day, but to Smith it is all relative, and he counters with a question of his own and possibly the most profound thought of the morning. "Actually, my day is your night, did you ever think of it that way?"
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