Camp Soapbox | JR Elrod

Your Camp Counselor here.
Grab your coffee and pull up the nearest stump.
All right, campers…
Before we make another jump through time…
I want you to stop for just a minute.
Look behind us.
Over the last several days we’ve watched America solve one transportation problem after another.
First came the waggoneer.
Then the Erie Canal.
Then the railroad.
Every invention made moving freight a little faster.
A little farther.
A little cheaper.
But none of them could do the whole job by themselves.
Each one simply handed the freight to the next.
Today…
I don’t want to talk about another invention.
I want to talk about the man who kept them all connected.
The waggoneer.
In many ways…
He was America’s first truck driver.
No…
He didn’t have eighteen wheels.
He didn’t have a diesel engine.
He didn’t have an air-ride seat.
He didn’t have air conditioning.
He didn’t have cruise control.
What he had…
Was responsibility.
Before daylight…
He was already awake.
There was no truck stop.
No diesel island.
No CAT Scale.
No app telling him where he could park that night.
Just a freight wagon.
Four horses.
Sometimes six.
Sometimes even eight.
Every one of them had to be fed.
Watered.
Harnessed.
Cared for.
Those horses weren’t just pulling the freight.
They were his engine.
If one became lame…
The trip stopped.
Before leaving town he’d grease the wagon hubs.
Inspect the wheels.
Check every leather strap and harness.
Then came the freight.
Barrels of flour.
Crates of tools.
Leather from the tannery.
Iron from the foundry.
Nails.
Salt.
Dry goods.
Whatever the next town needed.
A fully loaded Conestoga wagon usually carried somewhere around 8,000 to 12,000 pounds.
Today…
One tractor-trailer can legally gross 80,000 pounds.
One truck can often haul what once required eight or more loaded freight wagons.
Then the journey began.
There was no Interstate.
No divided highway.
No rest area.
No truck parking.
Just dirt roads.
Mud.
Dust.
Creeks.
Steep hills.
Broken wagon wheels.
And weather that didn’t care what your delivery appointment looked like.
Most days…
A loaded freight wagon covered only twelve to fifteen miles.
That’s it.
Think about that.
Many of you reading this probably drove farther before breakfast this morning.
A trip from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh could keep a waggoneer away from home for weeks.
Just like today’s over-the-road driver…
Home wasn’t where he slept.
Home was where he eventually returned.
Some nights he found a tavern.
Many nights…
The ground was his mattress.
He’d unroll a bedroll beside the wagon.
Build a small fire if he could.
Check on his horses one last time.
Then look up at the stars before closing his eyes.
Tomorrow…
He’d do it all over again.
Long trips brought another challenge.
Horses get tired.
Just like people.
Some waggoneers stayed with the same team for the entire journey.
Others, especially on established freight routes, stopped at relay stations where tired horses were
exchanged for fresh teams before continuing down the road.
The freight never changed.
Only the horsepower did.
Here’s something else most people never think about.
The waggoneer rarely made just one stop.
He might deliver flour to the baker.
Leather to the harness maker.
Iron to the blacksmith.
Supplies to the general store.
Tools to the carpenter.
Then load something else for the trip home.
Point A.
Point B.
Point C.
Point D.
Sound familiar?
The equipment changed.
The job really didn’t.
For more than two centuries…
There has always been someone willing to leave home…
Carry what America needed…
And keep moving until the job was finished.
The farther we travel through history…
The more I realize something.
The truck driver didn’t invent that way of life.
He inherited it.
Tomorrow…
America is about to hear one word…
Gold.
And when hundreds of thousands of people suddenly decide to head west…
Guess who’s going to haul everything they need to survive?
Yep…
Our old friend…
The waggoneer.
Until then…
I need to make one more adjustment to the Flux Capacitor.
Keep the coffee hot.
One last thing…
I was talking to Elon the other day…
Well…
Not really.
But if I had been, I’m pretty sure he’d have told me to quit being shy and plug my book once in a
while.
So…
If you’ve been enjoying these little trips through history and want to see what I do when I write
fiction, take a look at Frozen Freight: Iron Reach.
mybook.to/FrozenFreight
Now…
Back to adjusting the Flux Capacitor