Drove a truck for eleven years.
Now I book them.
High Mile Dispatch is one guy. Name's Reg. I started driving a reefer over the road in my twenties, bought my first truck — a '98 Pete, 3406E, million-two on the clock when I took the title — a few years later, and spent the back half of the last decade running two rigs with a partner out of the high desert.
When my back gave out on me for the third time and the surgeon said "or you can stop," I didn't want to sell the knowledge along with the equipment. I'd spent eleven years learning which brokers pay in 15 and which string you out 60, which lanes pay in December and which ones die after Thanksgiving, and which rate cons have a clause buried on page three that'll bite you on a detention claim. That's the work, now.
I dispatch for a handful of carriers — single trucks, a couple of small family fleets, one two-truck husband-and-wife team that's been with me since the week I hung the shingle. I don't want fifty trucks. I want a roster I can actually pay attention to. Right now that's nine.
How I work.
Small roster, on purpose.
If I'm juggling too many trucks, somebody's getting a cold shoulder on a Tuesday afternoon. I keep the book small enough that every carrier gets real attention and I can keep their preferences in my head, not in a CRM.
No contracts.
Week-to-week, 48 hours notice either way. If I'm not earning my five percent, you leave. I've never had a carrier leave for that reason but the door's open either way.
Your rate, your call.
I'll tell you what I think a load is worth. You decide whether to take it. I don't book loads without confirmation and I don't pressure you onto cheap freight to pad my own week.
Phone, not portals.
You're driving. You don't need another app flashing at you. Text me when you're parked, I call you back when I've got something real to say.
Same day on paperwork.
Rate con and signed BOL go to your factoring the same business day the load delivers. Not Monday, not "soon" — same day.
Honest when it's slow.
If the board is dead, I'll say so. I'd rather have a truck sit a day than book a loser to look busy.
Why "High Mile."
Every truck I ever owned had a million-plus on the clock before I sold it. The joke with my old partner was that we didn't buy trucks, we adopted them. A high-mile truck that's been maintained right will outrun a new one every time, and the operator who owns it usually knows a thing or two you can't learn from a brochure.
Those are the carriers I like working with. Knowledgeable, particular about their equipment, not interested in being impressed. Get in, get the load, get home, do it again. If you think the right answer to every problem is a new truck with a touchscreen, I'm probably not your guy.
The desk.
Hours
6 a.m. to 7 p.m. Mountain, most days. Saturday morning until the loads are covered. Sunday is for my wife and my back.
Setup
A desk, a printer that's outlasted two computers, two monitors, a headset, a wall map of the west with pushpins that mean something only to me, and a CB on a shelf I mostly keep around for the sound of it.
Coffee
Whatever's in the can. Strong enough that the spoon stands up.
Dog
Blue heeler. Bad at dispatch. Good at reminding me to go outside.