LE MARS, Iowa | Ruben Ocasio, of Jersey City, New Jersey, stops at J&J Cafe in Le Mars on a sunny Monday afternoon. He relaxes for a bit over bites of food, then digs into a pair of lottery tickets.
"You're going to see the next millionaire!" he says as he lifts his glasses above his eye, allowing him to focus on the scratch-and-win task at hand.
He scratches. He doesn't win.
And he heads back to work, namely his "office space," an International semi tractor-trailer owned by Schuster, of Le Mars.
"I'm going to Blue Bunny to pick up a load of ice cream and I'll haul it to Illinois," Ocasio says. "I'll pick up ingredients to make ice cream in Illinois, and I'll bring that load back to Blue Bunny."
This is Ocasio's latest in what he calls "a mountain of jobs."
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"There were two trades that I failed at, so in 2007 I went for my CDL (commercial driver's license) and I got it," Ocasio says. "But in the nine years since then, I've only had two years of trucking experience. I did bus driving and other things during that time."
Schuster represents the third trucking company for Ocasio, who generally heads east and northeast from Le Mars, sometimes making a 1,400-mile haul to Massachusetts.
On such treks like that, Ocasio, like most over-the-road truckers, dozes off in his "sleeper" a smaller double-bed mattress that occupies space just behind the driver's seat and the passenger's seat.
Decades ago, trucking companies would put drivers up in motels across the U.S. That changed with advent of bedding in the big rigs that haul up to 80,000 pounds.
"I can sleep, I can rest, it's OK," Ocasio says.
The cab contains a spray bottle for his mirrors and windows. A plastic bag from a grocery store hangs on the side of the passenger's seat, and collects wrappers and tissues. On the passenger's seat there is a cap, a notebook and a pair of finger-less gloves.
There are no family pictures, magnets or stickers on his dash, just lots of gauges to monitor. Oh, those and the all-important radio. Ocasio isn't a satellite radio devotee. He finds local stations as he motors across the country.
"I'm a little light on country music and I don't do hip-hop," he says. "Have you listened to a lot of the hip-hop lyrics? Do artists understand the negativity they're putting out there, the disrespect? How can you call that art?"
Ocasio, who comes from a largely Democratic area in New Jersey, listens to Rush Limbaugh on occasion. He follows politics and has enjoyed the change of pace billionaire developer Donald Trump has provided, shaking up the establishment.
"Donald Trump is 100 percent born and raised in New York," Ocasio says, indicating the GOP front-runner hasn't much in common with the typical Iowa or Midwestern voter.
"But, Trump has taken off on issues that seem to resonate with 'Middle America,'" he says. "He's tapping into something and has been a dark-horse surprise."
Ocasio continues with his political monologue, showing he's plugged in to the national conversation.
"Donald Trump might be this country's first hangover president," he says, laughing. "I say that jokingly, but his sticking power may see this come to pass."
Ocasio tosses his losing lottery ticket aside and zeroes in on his task at hand. He'll hit the highway soon, zooming south and east toward Illinois, hoping against hope that the thaw continues, maybe bolstered by all the political "hot air" he'll hear as the primary battles press on.
