Jocelyn Guimond On A Trucker’s Lonely Life Now: ‘I’m Essentially Homeless’
This story is part of a series called, Heart Beat, stories from workers on the frontlines of the coronavirus crisis.
Like most truckers, Jocelyn Guimond can handle life on the road.
The driver for AYR Motor Express is used to 70-hour workweeks, showering at truck stops, and sleeping for days (sometimes weeks) at a time squished inside the cab of his truck.
It’s not the easiest life, but it’s one he loves. However, the global COVID-19 pandemic is making that life harder than it’s ever been.
For four straight weeks, he has been living in his truck and working almost non-stop. And he says he’ll be doing it for at least another month — probably longer.
“I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I’m essentially homeless right now,” he recently told Huddle on the phone from the road.
Guimond normally stays with his girlfriend when he’s not working, but when COVID-19 hit North America he had to stop.
She has a medical condition that makes the virus more dangerous for her and Guimond says he didn’t want to make her feel unsafe.
“Her family is afraid for her and she’s afraid for her so I decided the right thing to do is probably stay away,” he says.
The situation is similar with his parents and other friends, so with no real place to go Guimond decided to just keep working and living out of his truck until things change.
Earlier this month he even spent his birthday alone.
Because he’s constantly crossing the border between Canada and the United States, Guimond says the stigma that he’s likely infected follows him everywhere.
People keep their distance when they learn he’s been outside the country; restaurants and gas stations refuse to let him park his truck; not long ago he was even refused a washroom at a Texas gas station.
While almost soiling himself looking for a washroom was bad, Guimond says it could have been worse: a gas station recently refused to let a trucker friend of his into the washroom, and gave him a bucket instead.
Guimond says facing this kind of treatment takes its toll.
“It brings you down, honestly, mentally. For a little bit last week it was affecting my mental health… having the feeling of being stigmatized,” he says.
“Truck drivers aren’t making a whole bunch of money but we can afford most things, but the fact is right now there’s the lack of places to be able to find food, or to find a shower,” he says. “You can’t really stop at just any grocery store. You’re very limited where you can stop and get your supplies.”
That becomes even more challenging when you’ve been living in your truck for a month.
“We have the basic amenities, but also… most prisoners have more room in a six-by-eight cell than we have here in our trucks,” Guimond says.
On a typical day, he’ll get up around 7 a.m., do some stretches, and hit the road. He drives for 10 hours, punctured by a few breaks, and usually stops around 8 or 9 p.m.
At night, if he’s in a place where it’s an option, he’ll go outside for a walk. Then he’ll either watch documentaries on Netflix or play NHL 2020 with friends on the X-Box he keeps in the truck.
“And then I repeat the same thing the next day and the next day and the next day,” he says.
It’s a grueling routine, but Guimond knows it’s important for him and other truckers to keep doing it.
“I’m just a normal guy doing my job. There’s plenty of us out here just toughing it out,” he says.
And his plan is to continue toughing it out: working and living out of his truck for at least another month. By the end of his run, he says he will have worked between 9-12 weeks straight.
That will give him a full four weeks off. He can spend two of them in quarantine, and then take the rest to enjoy.
“It’s the best way I’ve thought of keeping everyone safe and sound,” he says. “But it will require me bending the rules a bit because no matter where I stay, I shouldn’t be there. It’s only with the support of friends and family [that I’ll be able to do this].”
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