He was there before. The disaster was soon after.

On Sept. 11, 2001, Jack Westerman left his home in Palmerton to do the job he had for 16 years. Drive a tractor trailer over the George Washington Bridge in New York to Farmingdale, Long Island.

“I was carrying liquid nitrogen to a place that uses the gas to flash freeze ravioli before they send them out to customers,” he said.

Little did Westerman know that his routine trek over the bridge to his destination would keep him away from his wife, Sharon, a school teacher in Palmerton, and his children, Kaitlin and Kelly, for the next 24 hours.

“Traffic is always horrible on the bridge, but that’s to be expected every day. I got through the city when I heard on my truck radio that a plane had hit the first tower.”

He switched stations back and forth to keep up with the ongoing story. Once in Long Island, he heard about another plane hitting the second tower.

“Then they closed all the bridges and locked down the city. I couldn’t drive back. I couldn’t get home. Every road was gridlocked. I hear that people were stuck on the road for eight hours. The mayhem shut down all incoming and outgoing traffic from 495 to the tunnels and the bridges. Nobody could fly anywhere and rental cars were not available.”

If Westerman had driven over the Verrazano Bridge, he would have been much closer to the towers. “The GW is the easier route going north to Long Island.”

With no way to get home and with everyone rushing to find hotels, three hours later, Westerman got a room in a Sheraton Hotel in Hauppauge, Long Island.

“I couldn’t call home. Landlines were hit or miss and there was no cell phone service. People clustered around any TV that could be found in restaurants, bars, and in hotels to follow the story.”

He tried to sleep that night. “The adrenalin kept me awake. So many questions about what had happened without many answers. I got word at 4 o’clock in the morning that the GW was open for outgoing vehicles only.”

As he drove back over the bridge, he saw the blockade on the incoming lanes. “There were military everywhere on the bridge holding M16 rifles.”

Westerman got up the morning of 9/11 at 6 a.m. and did not return home to Palmerton until 9 a.m. the next day.

He would later find out that his company was lining up trucks in Giants Stadium in Newark, New Jersey, for emergency delivery of oxygen to hospitals along the East Coast if necessary.

When he resumed his truck route and up until a month later, there was an eerie reminder of the tragedy floating in the air. “On a day when the wind was blowing in a certain direction, you could still smell the odor of burning plastic and debris.”

Every year on 9/11, the tragedy continues to unfold in his mind. “I get goose bumps whenever this date comes around,” he said.

He has spent much time researching the events of that day and watching documentaries on TV, reliving the time frame, seeing pictures of the heroes who risked their lives and those who lost their lives trying to save the victims in the towers.

“One of the most interesting facts I found was that the buildings had been coated with fire retardant, but the incredible heat from the airplane fuel melted that away and burned so hot that whatever was still standing after the crashes imploded the rest of the buildings from the intense heat.”

He and his wife have visited the site and the museum where every year, a ceremony is held on 9/11 to honor those who perished in the attack.

“It was a beautiful thing to see Americans come together as one united people after the tragedy.”

Westerman is concerned that the division he feels the country is experiencing now might be setting us up for another attack.

“I think we lost some of the values we once had and the pride we felt for being Americans,” he said. “It’s not a comfortable feeling.”