Oh my goodness, who would have thought it, this thread is bringing as many nightmare memories back as others do happy ones.
Firstly, Saviem, you mention the Foden 12 speed. The best gearbox I ever played, and you did play it, and not all could master it. Not a horror story this one but a salutary one. I was climbing Swinscoe out of Ashbourne with an empty artic powder tanker in the snow. I had made it past a couple of stuck vehicles but my progress was slowing and I knew I would soon lose traction. It happened, and the vehicle came to a stop. I thought that was it but I tried a couple of different gears and gently let in the clutch, it was gripping, barely daring to believe I kept my feet with the lightest touch on the pedals and she gradually re-started and ground her way slowly to the top. I have sung the praises of that oh so flexible box ever since. The vehicle was a steel cabbed Foden with a 205 â â â â â â â and, of course, the 12 speed. 
A sequel to this story was that I was heading to a sand quarry off the beaten track. I got in there and loaded but by this time the snow was too deep to get out of the quarry. We were offered the floor of their changing rooms for the night and the underfloor heating was most welcome. For food, drink and entertainment we walked to a pub about 10 minutes away. A great evening in front of a blazing log fire set us up for the trudge back.
In the morning I returned to the motor. Most of the snow was gone from the road and I had high hopes of getting on my way to Scotland. Shock! The wagon was in the ditch, well the rear wheels of the unit were, slightly jacknifing it. The telltale skid marks in the snow told the story, it had slid on the melting snow during the night. For once I was glad that I didnât have a sleeper. Can you imagine the horror of waking in the middle of the night to feel the wagon sliding backwards under you?
The horror story mirrored your own on Harley Bank. I had the Kew Dodge, Perkins 6354 6 speed 2 speed axle with a Boden 28 ft 4-in-line flat loaded to the max with asphalt blocks from Matlock for Stoney Middleton. I had passed trough Calver on the A 623 and, on entering the village, took the left fork up to the quarry which was my destination. I immediately saw how steep it was and stopped to put it into crawler, I knew there would be no forward momentum to allow a change down on the hill. Gave it the gun and kept my trembling foot to the floor as the nose lifted and I saw more sky than road. Half way up it began to give up the ghost and I stopped it, fearfully of stalling the engine and losing air. The foot brake held but the handbrake didnât. Desperately I looked around for help. I spotted a side road a few yards back and to my left which levelled along the side of the hill. Gingerly I put it in reverse and lifted my feet. A test showed me that the foot brake was taking an age to stop it and scared that if I missed my direction even slightly there would be no chance of a forward shunt I decided to halt it there. But I couldnât get out, I was trapped by the necessity to keep my rapidly weakening foot on the brake and the old knee trembler was back. For me a knee trembler definitely does not have â â â â â â connotations.
Then salvation, a woman came out of her house to see why a lorry was parked across her front. I screamed at her to grab a rock from the dry stone wall around her garden and stuff it under a wheel. That done, I called for another, and another. Only when all the wheels were blocked did I gently remove my foot from the pedal, the nose came up again and for one moment I thought it would wind itself around the back axle. But it held. Unfazed by the near destruction of her wall my kindly saviour brought me inside for tea and phone. And there I remained till the giant Volvo front end loader arrived from the quarry. He hooked me up and, when he had taken up the slack and removed the rocks, instructed me to start the engine, release the handbrake, put it in neutral andâŚsteer. Do nothing else he said, just sit back and enjoy the ride. And that is just what I did, and when we got to the top, effortlessly, he unhooked his chains, looked at my pale but relieved face, and laughed as he drove away. I got the impression he may have done this once or twice before.
Until this thread started I hadnât really thought about how much scary stuff there was in this job over the years. 
