Trucks, tracks, tall tales and true from all over the world

So many threads bring back various memories, funny, dodgy dangerous or dramatic. Rather than running those threads off the rail, here is a receptacle for those yarns, everybody’s got at least one good story. I’ll kick it off.

I bought my first truck at the beginning of a recession. I had a family to feed, a mortgage to sevice and took on a loan, bigger than the cost of a house, for a second hand truck. All this in a time of falling trade and businesses going bust, I never did Business 101.
I managed to scrape through four years of truck payments, without the kids starving or losing the house, barley staying one step in front of the repo man. At the time it was said, you could phone a finance company and ask if the had a truck with specific specifications, they’d ask what colour you would like.
Anyway, the truck I bought was a pretty big jigger, for the day, 350 ■■■■■■■■ RTO 12513, Rockwell 44s @ 5.29 and a road train GCM. Now that it was paid for, I had a bit more money to buy a trailer and catchup on maintenance. One of the first things to do was replace the crown wheels and pinions. 5.29:1 behind a 13 speed overdrive gives 98 kph @ 2100rpm. With a 14 litre ■■■■■■■ calling the shots, it could do 98 kph up hill and down dale, loaded to 85 tonne or empty, the drawback being 5 mpg under all of the mentioned conditions. A diff ratio change was in order.
Speed limiters had just been introduced but were not mandated retrospectively. I swung a dodgy with a bloke who had 3.7 centres, convincing him that mine, being able to limit speed, were worth far more than his. With minimal cash adjustment, the swap was done.
After fitting, I loaded a single, oversize trailer to Gunpowder, north of Mt Isa. The top end of the Landsborough Highway was recently sealed and after the dirt track it had been, I thought it was a race track. Give a young bloke a good road and a fast anything, what’s he going to do? A calculated 158 kph, the speedo only read to 140.
It was fun for the short distance it lasted, ended by the biggest 'roo I’ve ever seen. Thanks to the extra heavy duty, steel bullbar, everything except the “DANGER LONG WIDE LOAD” sign survived, even the driver’s seat.

Star down under.:
So many threads bring back various memories, funny, dodgy dangerous or dramatic. Rather than running those threads off the rail, here is a receptacle for those yarns, everybody’s got at least one good story. I’ll kick it off.

, even the driver’s seat.

Slightly soiled?

Dig

Not me this time, a friend. My mate and his three brothers, between them owned different civil engineering/earthmoving machines. They sometimes worked as a crew, sometimes independently and occasionally dry hired gear to people they knew.
My mate had a water truck that he was driving on a lucrative job, whilst he had his multi-tyred roller dry hired on a job close to his home.
He asked the bloke hiring the roller, if he could take it over the weekend, service it and return it. It was agreed.
At the time, Queensland did not require registration of machines designed exclusively for road building purposes. That encompassed rollers and pavers etc., but not trucks, backhoes or other machines that could be used for other purposes.
The roller was duly collected at the crack of dawn, on the Sunday and being driven to the owners house.
The only other vehicle on the road, at such an ungodly hour was a police car, driven by a bored copper. The inevitable occurred and the cop demanded to know why the machine was being driven without number plates. For those not familiar with the exemption, it did look suss, and as if the operator thought he could get away with it at such a quiet time of day. Ken explained the exemption ruling but it was treated as a desperate bluff by a master criminal. It was politely suggested that the officer contact someone, on the radio, who could confirm the situation. Appearing reluctant in case he became a laughing stock, for falling for such a pathetic excuse, he did make the enquiry.
With his nose out of joint, the copper returned with the type of belligerence only a defeated walloper can muster and admitted that he was wrong about the rego, BUT!!! what about all ten tyres, they’re all bald!
Ken explained, they’re supposed to be, that’s how they make the base smooth, before the bitumen is applied. This was also received with scepticism and Ken could see the gears turning in the copper’s expression. Again, it was suggested that the radio might be the way to clarify the situation, if looks could kill…with disappointment and reluctance, Ken and the roller were dismissed without penalty.

Great tales, SDU, keep 'em coming

ERF-NGC-European:
Great tales, SDU, keep 'em coming

For a number of years I ran into Onslow a small fishing town on the north west coast of OZ which also served as the mainland supply base for Barrow Island.
I knew a few of the barge crews one of whom had his home in Onslow and as his wife ran the back rooms of the supermarket I got to know them both anyhow on this occasion Ray was on his 6 week break so I suggested he come with me to the on shore rig which was working some distance from the Hwy in the Great Sandy Desert ,he jumped at the chance so he grabbed his swag as we would be 3 or 4 days and off we went.
Now Ray was pretty laid back and great company so when we were clear of Port Hedland with some 450kms to the turn off the hwy to the rig I suggested he had a drive ,he jumped at the chance and proved he was quite capable so I hopped in the bunk for a snooze to be woken by Ray a couple of hours later that a F100 ute with a blue light was behind us blues and headlight flashing so I said to Ray just pull over without going off the sealed road which he did .
I grabbed my my folder with licence permits load manifests etc and jumped out and met one of the Police officers at the bullbar, [I should explain at that time the police had a couple of squads who patrolled the highways with scales etc to annoy us gentleman of the highways it is now done by designated government officials ]
The officer started by asking if the truck was mine I told him it was and then several questions of where we were going come from etc all ok until we got to Ray who was being questioned by the other officer.
I was asked what Rays surname was and I had to confess I had known him for a couple of years but we never got around to surnames, the officer raised his eyebrows but soldered on muttering along the lines letting someone you dont really know drive a road train etc etc, in the mean time Ray when asked what my surname was also confessed he didnt know it although we had known each other for some time, fortunately Ray had a driving licence to cover driving road trains which i hadn’t thought to ask him abut.
As what we were carrying freight wise didnt warrant them getting the portable scales out we were sent on our way with a warning we should get to know one another better.
Dig

Thanks Dig, keep them coming.

C’mon you lot, it can’t have all been dull, boring and uneventful.

I think that every driver has got an interesting tale to share S.D.U. and if you look back through this website, I am sure that you will find quite a few of them.

I have a strong feeling that we all worked with ‘interesting characters’ at some time or another.
One lad who I worked with was always known as ‘Disco Harry’ as he seemed to know where every club or ‘Grab A Granny Night’ was anywhere in England, Wales and Scotland.
Harry must of been in forties and he always carried a suit with him in his A.E.C. Mercury.

Is this the kind of thing that you are looking for S.D.U.

In January 1976 I was employed driving a six tonne Nissan Diesel U.G. 780 for an engineering company in Windhoek, South West Africa, which is now called Namibia.

One day the boss asked me to drive down to Port Elizabeth in South Africa, to collect a load of solar panels for a job that we were doing. If they would have been delivered by rail, it was estimated that the journey would take at least two weeks.
Geeze, I know that things change but I have just looked up on Google and it says the driving time from Windhoek to Port Elizabeth is now 18 hours and 51 minutes. It took me three, very long days driving back then and it seems that now, Port Elizabeth has changed its name to Gqeberha.

I remember that on the second day, I was driving somewhere between Grunau and Upington when I saw something quite unusual in the distance, which was in the middle of the road. There was never much traffic about and it was often possible to drive for over half an hour before I would see another vehicle. I was on a good stretch of bitumen road and as it was coming up to midday it wasn’t unusual to see a mirage forming in the distance.

I could see that something was moving on the road, I couldn’t make out what it was but by now it was getting closer, so I took my foot off the accelerator and slowed down.
My first thoughts were that it was a five-foot black pole stuck in the middle of the road but with the heat haze it seemed to be wiggling about. It suddenly occurred to me that it was actually a snake standing up and I decide to put my foot down and to try and run the thing over.
I must have been doing at least 40 m.p.h. when I reached the snake as I could see it clearly staring at me and just before I made contact with it, it seemed to drop down out of sight below the bonnet of the truck.
Once again, I slowed down looking at my mirrors to see if I could see a dead snake laying in the middle of the road but I couldn’t see anything. I never knew that I had a fear of snakes, until that moment.

I had heard stories of people driving over snakes, only to find that the snake had managed to wrap its self around an axle. When they had stopped the vehicle, the snake would then come out and bite their leg. Another one was that snakes would sometimes climb up into the engine compartment during the night looking for somewhere to keep warm.

So where had this one disappeared to, where I had stopped which was now about two hundred yards further on, the road was too narrow to attempt to do a three point turn as the road was slightly raised.
I decided to reverse the truck all the way back to where I thought that I had collided with the snake but there nothing there and there was no way that I was going to get out and have look to see if it was caught underneath. When I parked up about an hour later, I leapt out of the cab and moved away from the truck very quickly. Even the next morning when I had to open the bonnet to check the oil, I felt nervous and I was very cautious.

When I arrived in Port Elizabeth, I was telling somebody about my snake experience from the previous day and after I had described the snake which appeared to have a flattish head, he told me that it was probably a Cape Cobra.

This video to me confirms what kind of snake it was and I think that it’s worth watching it until the end if only to see the outtakes.

youtube.com/watch?v=Kvq17a1ApEI

IMG.jpg1220×938 209 KB

It sounds like the African continent has/had drivers of similar ilk to us here in OZ,I have had several brushes with our wriggly friends and getting bitten a long way from anywhere is a scary ordeal.

I Was taking a load of exploration equipment to a rig which was located about 400kms north of Derby via the Gibb River road ,I have to point out that in those days the mid 80s that track had to be treated with respect not like the hereos of Outback Tracking who have earth moving machinery to assist behind every tree and half the road now sealed.
I had to deal with some tourist traffic from Derby to the start of the Leopold Range so It was quite early but I had decided to pull over until the early hours when I should have the track through the range to myself, I had lit a fire and cooked tea and had a cold stubby for deserts quick wash under a trailer water tank and remove the boots [big mistake] I was walking past the drive tyres on the truck when i felt a sharp pain in the side of my left big toe I shone the torch and saw a small black very slim snake crawling under the tyres estimated length 18inches, I jumped in the truck fired up and drove forward a few feet then had a look to see if I had been lucky enough to flatten him and see it again for identification purpose.No luck.
I had one fang puncture on my toe with a spot or two of blood dripping ,what’s the plan now…
In that area the deadly Tiapan was known to reside but Other than try remain calm and make the right decisions.
Back down the rd a km or so I could see a campfire was burning so I drove back there and walked to the camp a couple of hundred metres off the Gibb and luck was on my side as one of the 2 women was an extremely expirensed nurse she quickly applied a pressure bandage then it was a case of what next ,I decided to drive back a few kms about 15 to a station called Napier downs it was only a short distance off the track and i knew the people that lived there this I did so we then contacted the Derby hospital via the Flying Doctor service they said they would send an ambulance to meet me if I drove back toward town, the only plane was away so rather than me driving the truck which I might add I was suffering extreme pain in my foot and ankle and driving wasn’t really an option for me so John the station manager said i will drive you to town. While he was getting his vehicle refuelled his wife told me that they had been managing Napier 10 years and this year had been the worst for snakes they had been killing at least 2 snakes a day in the gardens which would have been a strain for them with 2 small children.
We took off I was now experiencing the hots and colds plus the pain anyhow we met the ambulance some 100kms from town and I swapped vehicles the paramedic was a good man but had very little experience with the new satellite system in the ambulance which when I was hooked into it correctly it was firing off information to the doctors in the hospital all we had to do was hook me in that was accomplished by me laying on the stretcher reading the instructions from the manual and the paramedic doing the business.
End result I was in hospital by 2am blood tests done and when the snake is not identified they have to be careful what anti venom is administered so as only a minute amount of venom was detected in my blood It was decided in my case that a very powerful antibiotic would be tried and as I responded well to that treatment I was released from hospital after a couple of days.
I was not the best for a couple of weeks so I made my way home to Perth.
At home we got the snake identification book out and a good match from what I saw and experienced the Whip snake got the blame.A bite not normally fatal unless a weak heart or a baby symptoms heavy localised pain in the joints the sweats etc.
If you get the kicks out of pain I can recomend it.

Dig

This is Yamera Gap , a likeness of Queen Vics head in the rocks and Napier Station is just the other side of the gap on the left.

Gibb Road Queen Victorias Head.JPG778×519 139 KB

This is brilliant-more stories please!!

Thanks Dig, an enjoyable yarn.

I was heading to Newman from Port Hedland, with 100,000 litres of fuel. Near Yandi/Area 1 the road runs along a ridge, bends left then decends a couple of hundred metres before it crosses the iron ore train line. The crossing is completely obscured by a bank on the left and heavy scrub on the right. Due to the bend, just before the crossing, there are repeater warning lights before the bend. There are no barriers, only the lights at the crossing.
I saw the repeater lights come on, slowed and came to a gentle stop at the crossing. The ore trains are relatively slow, very heavy and about two kilometres long. Only a fool tries to beat them.
Once stopped, I alighted from the cab, checked a weeping hub and slowly walked around, checking the tyres etc. and enjoyed a smoke. I hopped back behind the wheel and waited. I then noticed the lights weren’t flashing, but no train had passed. I wasn’t prepared to blindly cross the line so again got out of the truck and walked to the line, to visually confirm no trains were coming. The view to my right revealed no trains approaching, looking up the cutting to the left, I could see a gang of fettlers and a large machine, slowly going back and forth. Obviously, the machine had come back far enough to trigger the lights, as I got within view of them.
Fortunately nobody saw me parked like a drongo for no apparent reason.

andrew.s:
This is brilliant-more stories please!!

Share some of your adventures too, Andrew.

Cape Cobras, Taipans they were nothing compared to the horryifying animal experience that Trucknet member KR 79 encountered.

From the Trucknet archives, first posted October 2011.

KR 79 said.
Back in 2003 I was driving an artic bulker on landfill work for a south London skip firm as well as our own rubbish we did a bit out of other skip yards and council transfer stations.
One firm we pulled out of was a dodgy rough as hell half caravan living people outfit who had a couple of old stables in the yard with a couple of scabby sorry looking donkeys in there. One Thursday afternoon I went in there and one of the donkeys had keeled over and there was already a few flies buzzing round.

The Guvnor wasn’t paying for the pet cemetery and came over and said alright if we put it on you. I said no way you can’t send it down a landfill site so without blinking he pulled out a wad of cash that could have choked a donkey rolled of a 50 and said are you sure. The colour of money clouded my judgement so I took the 50 and said ok but don’t take the ■■■■ with it. I pop down to the café come back and it’s loaded so I Pulled on to the weighbridge all ok so I just shut the easy sheet went back to the yard to park up.
Next morning I got in started the truck and instead of hearing a v8 Scania fire up I got the ominous click of a knackered starter motor and ended up in a spare lorry.

No work Saturday so it was Monday by the time muffin the mule was making his final voyage. 4-30 am I’m in the yard and I’m away down the old Kent road over Blackheath down the A2 and off to the Dartford Tunnel. I got to the barrier and the attendant said your over height. This wasn’t a surprise as my trailer was 15 ft 6 and often something sticking up would set the sensors off. So I said I will go for the right hand tunnel she said no your too high for it pull in to the tanker bay and sort it out.

I pulled in to the bay climbed up to see the now rotting donkey rolled half on it’s back and two rigamorticed legs sticking well up in the air. I opened the easy sheet and tried pushing this stinking thing back on it’s side but it just kept rolling back over. I grabed one of the legs and tried bending it but it was solid as a oak tree.

By this time I was covered in sweat and flys and heard another truck pull up I looked down to see Tony a guy I worked with he climbed up and just said what the [zb]. Now there was two of us trying to roll the dead donkey and bend it’s legs with little sucsess.
He said il be back in a second and returned with a big hacksaw and handed it to me and just said crack on son.
My face droped and I said what am I going to do withthat and he replied cut it’s [zb] legs off son. I said I can’t he said I ain’t and have you got a better idea so I set to cutting thrrough the rotting flesh and bone. I was heaving at the blood and maggots going every where but eventualt cut far enough to bend them over. I came down covered in blood with a swarm of flys round me and went through the tunnel and to the landfill at averley.
I tipped it out and the fixer driver jumped out of his d8 saying you can’t tip that here and I had to give him 20 quid to keep his mouth shut.

mushroomman:
Cape Cobras, Taipans they were nothing compared to the horryifying animal experience that Trucknet member KR 79 encountered.

From the Trucknet archives, first posted October 2011.

KR 79 said.
Back in 2003 I was driving an artic bulker on landfill work for a south London skip firm as well as our own rubbish we did a bit out of other skip yards and council transfer stations.
One firm we pulled out of was a dodgy rough as hell half caravan living people outfit who had a couple of old stables in the yard with a couple of scabby sorry looking donkeys in there. One Thursday afternoon I went in there and one of the donkeys had keeled over and there was already a few flies buzzing round.

The Guvnor wasn’t paying for the pet cemetery and came over and said alright if we put it on you. I said no way you can’t send it down a landfill site so without blinking he pulled out a wad of cash that could have choked a donkey rolled of a 50 and said are you sure. The colour of money clouded my judgement so I took the 50 and said ok but don’t take the ■■■■ with it. I pop down to the café come back and it’s loaded so I Pulled on to the weighbridge all ok so I just shut the easy sheet went back to the yard to park up.
Next morning I got in started the truck and instead of hearing a v8 Scania fire up I got the ominous click of a knackered starter motor and ended up in a spare lorry.

No work Saturday so it was Monday by the time muffin the mule was making his final voyage. 4-30 am I’m in the yard and I’m away down the old Kent road over Blackheath down the A2 and off to the Dartford Tunnel. I got to the barrier and the attendant said your over height. This wasn’t a surprise as my trailer was 15 ft 6 and often something sticking up would set the sensors off. So I said I will go for the right hand tunnel she said no your too high for it pull in to the tanker bay and sort it out.

I pulled in to the bay climbed up to see the now rotting donkey rolled half on it’s back and two rigamorticed legs sticking well up in the air. I opened the easy sheet and tried pushing this stinking thing back on it’s side but it just kept rolling back over. I grabed one of the legs and tried bending it but it was solid as a oak tree.

By this time I was covered in sweat and flys and heard another truck pull up I looked down to see Tony a guy I worked with he climbed up and just said what the [zb]. Now there was two of us trying to roll the dead donkey and bend it’s legs with little sucsess.
He said il be back in a second and returned with a big hacksaw and handed it to me and just said crack on son.
My face droped and I said what am I going to do withthat and he replied cut it’s [zb] legs off son. I said I can’t he said I ain’t and have you got a better idea so I set to cutting thrrough the rotting flesh and bone. I was heaving at the blood and maggots going every where but eventualt cut far enough to bend them over. I came down covered in blood with a swarm of flys round me and went through the tunnel and to the landfill at averley.
I tipped it out and the fixer driver jumped out of his d8 saying you can’t tip that here and I had to give him 20 quid to keep his mouth shut.

Nice one MRM.

Thanks Mushroomman.
Dig’s story of carting concrete culverts reminds me of another true yarn.
I was returning to Hedland from Newman and environs, after delivering 100,000 litres of fuel.
I was empty and on a mission, full noise all the way home. I caught up to a new Land Cruiser towing a caravan of epic dimentions, it was 35~38’ long and following two triple road trains loaded with concrete sleepers, for Twiggy’s new train set.
The pair of sleeper loads were struggling to maintain 90kph and often down to 80, or below, on inclines.
I joined the procession and within a few minutes the rear most road train offered to button off, allowing me to overtake the trucks one at a time.
I replied, and I quote verbatim “Thanks mate, I’ll hang back for a minute, so I can see what this goose in front of me is going to do. He’s got no mirrors and I don’t want to get half way 'round him and have him pull out.”
All three of us spent the next few minutes generally whinging and speaking about tourists, in a rather derogatory manner.
I then said “He seems happy there, I’m out and about.”
“All good mate, bring it 'round.” came the reply.
I was into it, suddenly the UHF lit up. It was old mate in the caravan “I don’t need mirrors, I’ve got a camera mounted on the back of the 'van.”
All three truckies fell into a sheepish silence.

Star down under.:

andrew.s:
This is brilliant-more stories please!!

Share some of your adventures too, Andrew.

I don’t have anything as interesting as being bitten by a snake that slithered out from my roadtrain in the outback lol

This was one of my mates tales. Working on general haulage for a local firm in the North East of England, regular load would be full load of plastic granules all bagged from the chemical works a ICI Wilton.
Nightshift drivers would load sheet and because yard was only a couple of miles up the road to the yard would just cross front and back with rope, leaving the rest of roping of load to dayshift driver to take down the road.
So it’s a cold wet windy dark morning in Autumn and my mate get’s to his wagon parked next to the garages and starts roping the load, another driver starts doing the same, and they are both going to the same place. The little edge to this is last to a cafe just 20 miles down the road buy’s the tea’s!!
Anyway it’s horrible cold and chucking it down but roping’s done into motor start up and ready to be away and he’s looking like going to be first away “Result”. Into gear sets off and lo and behold a bloody great thunderflash lights the sky. “Christ weathers getting worse” now on his way couple miles later matey has caught him up and starts flashing at my mate. " I’m not falling for that old trick stopping and he’ll fly by and be first to cafe , leaving me with round of tea’s to buy!!"
Anyway pulls into Cafe first gets out and other driver pulls in and say’s " Do you know why I’ve being flashing you ? have a look at the rear"
Mate walks to back of trailer and finds the remnants of a steel junction box!
Turns out in the darkness he’d thrown the rope over the electrical cable that ran from a pole to the side of the garage, and the lightning flash he saw was actually the electrics shorting out!!
Nothing was said or reported and gypsies got the blame for stealing the metal box.

Brilliant jshepguis, now you have got me travelling down memory lane in an E.R.F. with a tanker full of Nitro Benzine, on my way to I.C.I. Wilton.

Twas the Christmas of 1990 when I got a phone call from Hanson’s Huddersfield depot saying that they needed an extra tanker driver to cover the Christmas period. As you will know, I.C.I. Wilton was a 24/7, 365 days a year operation and the ‘dangling carrot’ was triple time for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day/Night and New Years Eve/Day.

I was sat there on Christmas Eve, at Wilton, discharging around midnight, when it started to snow.
And every year when my missus is watching yet another repeat of Midsummer Murders Christmas Special (with our air conditioner on), she always says, “it never snows in England of Christmas Eve”.

I remember looking out across the yard and there must of been around 100 x 20 foot containers, with the words in huge capital letters I.B.C.
Now I am aware that at the time, an I.B.C. to me was 1000 liter plastic container in a steel frame and I remember seeing on the road, trailers carrying these 20 foot containers. So was there a company based at Wilton called, ‘I.B.C.’

Anyway, those four nights that I worked that week, paid for the skiing holiday to Austria three weeks later, so as they say, “the jobs a gud un”.

I have spent the afternoon trying to find that cafe that was on the southbound A19, I.I.R.C. near the Cleveland Tontine. The lorry park was on a slope and there was a big gravity fed diesel tank on a stand near the entrance, I don’t think that it was Shell station. Is this the cafe that you used hopefully Chris Webb might be able to help us out.

Hi Mushroomman the Cafe was at Knayton for Southbound and just opposite is Woodside on the Nortbound situated about 4 miles north of Thirsk. The old cafe is still there over the years it has opened and closed, i think the diesel tank is still there.
As for IBC/IFF they now come under the UBC banner, bulk containers they were probably at the Freightliner railhead situated in Wilton.

this happened to me in the early 70’s. I was delivering a load of frozen fish to Bremerhaven Germany with another wagon of fish from the same firm. Neither of us had been to Bremerhaven but he had more continental experience than me but let me ask at a filling station for directions when we arrived at the outskirts of the city even though I didn’t speak a word of German. Some guy was very helpful and drew a map on a piece of paper showing where to turn.

He followed me and I followed that map exactly but we ended up going down a residential street and where the houses stopped the road narrowed down to the width of the wagon and was dead straight with what looked like an industrial estate at the end. Thinking we may not be lost after all I forged ahead ( couldn’t turn around anyway). There was a small building halfway down the road and as we approached half a dozen soldiers ran out and stopped us and demanded to know where we were going. I showed them the shipping papers and the map the guy drew for me while soldiers looked inside our cabs and trailers.

Seemingly satisfied the one in charge (thank goodness he could speak English) instructed us to drive slowly down to the end of the road where there’s a big clearing and turn around and don’t stop till you get back here. When we got to the clearing the tower I saw had a couple of soldiers in it with machine guns and our cabs and trailers were inspected by the soldiers again when we returned to where we were stopped. He didn’t say exactly where we were but gave excellent directions to our destination.

The amusing thing to me was I’d picked up a couple of lady hitchhikers a couple of days ago in Scotland and they were still with me. Both were American and the one I ended up marrying rode with me and her friend with John the other driver. When I saw the guards in the tower I told her I think that’s the communist controlled side over there and she said I hope they don’t find out I’m American to which I replied the one and only time…then you’d better keep your mouth shut.