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I remember the song. And the mint. I have also driven that hill in Scranton. It's not too bad, but the song doesn't mention compression brakes so I assume the unfortunate driver didn't have them and rode his brakes to his doom.
I went to the mint once. ONCE! Never again. I swore to refuse all loads there forever. Why? Because they made me tie my dog to a tree and leave him there (muzzled) in public while I was escorted to the entrance. What a nightmare getting in there with a full semi! And I was relatively inexperienced too. They treated me like I was a branded thief or something. As if they had pallets of cash sitting on the dock. I ain't that lucky!
Then I had to go get the dog and get out again, this time without the police escort. Not fun. If you have ever been there, try to imagine getting A BIG RIG through Market street, right on sixth, right onto Race and right again on Fifth. Without killing the tourists or crushing the decorative ironwork lining the curbs.
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