That come out wrong well reads wrong what i meant ,not read any of your fiction ,the trips yes DBP
Bloody hell PDB, that was rude. 
Glad you qualified your comments the next day though. 
I too write fiction but it wasn’t right for me either, but I did skim through it to the end. Much prefer your real adventures Chris though.
To MRM, and John Mcvey if he is still reading here, I did enjoy those accounts and, although have not passed through most of the places with cargo, other than people cargo, I did recognise much of what you encountered. One thing that did puzzle me though, your mention of road trains. At first I thought you were talking about the Leyland tractors that were made in the 80s (was it?) but then realised that you meant wagon and drags, drawbars. I have never heard British lorry drivers refer to them other than that before, to me road trains are the multiple trailer set ups found mainly in Australia then and now.
One of these days I will get my own act together re London to Lahore, then on to New Delhi, but that will have to wait for the right moment for me to get my thoughts and memory in order, I have a lot on my plate these days.
Yes Spardo my comment was not meant to rude however over now.I bet Shakespeare had his moments.
.
ALSO the calling of road trains is in fact what you call them when you drive them in the UK while i was at BOWKERS we were all road train drivers except the Artic drivers A 6 wheel front end and double axel trailer on a straight bar, that was telescopic just like a piston, some were demountable boxes twist lock type with pull out legs that fitted underneath the boxes so you pulled away and left the box standing on its legs also some boxes were like taught liners boxes fixed on the chassis.
Some trailers had a system where there were small rollers on the front of the front trailer axel, when you braked the trailer would push back or forward from being closed coupled also had rollers on the front end of the trailer for when close coupled you had no control it was automatic i think i got that right.to be honest i never seen it work as always up front driving .all left hand driver BELGIEN REG
A bar like the EUROPEAN were not at Bowkers i have seen some in the uk i think the Littlewoods were A BAR like the EUROPEAN ARE or were Ihave no doubt the road trains years ago on MIDDLE EAST were A BAR.dbp.
Better give this a bump, before it falls off the first page.
The night I visited a brothel.
I’m a proud Queenslander. It is often said Western Australia is ten years and two hours behind Sydney and Melbourne, well Queensland is only two hours ahead of the West. We’re conservative and often out of step with the southern states.
I was taking a B double from Brisbane to Melbourne, my first of two drops was in the industrial west of Melbourne. I knew there was a truck friendly pub close to my first delivery, so that was where I intended to park for the night. I arrived about tenish, checking the pub as I drove past. I was in luck, it was still open. It took me about ten minutes to find a place to park and walk back to the pub.
When I say this was a truck friendly pub, I meant that when the pub closed, they shuttered the bar but left the lounge open and lit fo truckies use. I entered the lounge and noticed two fellows, sitting sperately, but the bar was closed. I said “I thought the place was open, as I drove past.” One of the blokes replied “It was when you went past, it’s only just shut.”
I’m not a big drinker, particularly of beer, but this night I really fancied one or three.
One of the blokes got up to leave, offering me his last stubby (a 375 ml bottle of beer). I graciously accepted it and joined the other fellow, who had a stubby and a half in front of him.
We both finish our beers and I commented that one was never enough. He suggested we go across the road for more, I was a little confused and replied that I didn’t know there was another pub there.
He told me it wasn’t a pub, it was a brothel. I told him “I want a beer, not a bonk!”, to which he replied “Have you ever been to a knocking shop that didn’t have grog?”
Not wanting to show my naivety, I just shruged my shoulders and agreed to go with him. Still not wishing to show my country boy lack of sophistication, I cunningly accompanied him, half a step behind. These type of establishments were illegal in my home state and I had no idea of the etequette when visiting such an establishment. To enter the converted house, one had to walk around the back and up a flight of stairs. I followed my partner in crime up the stairs, happy for him to educate me in the ways of the big smoke population. The barsteward opened the back door, holding it for me to enter first. I stepped into what would have been the laundry of someone’s home. It was a small room, separated from the rest of the former dwelling by security screens, reminding me of a betting shop.
“Minding the shop” was a massive blob of jelly, an absolute caricature of a madam, at least twenty-five stone, with makeup applied with a paint scraper. A voice, sweeter than honey, asked “Hiii guuuys, what can we do for yooou, tonight?”
By this stage I was glowing brighter than a red trafic light, at a major intersection, in the middle of the night. In my embarrassment I blurted out “I just want some beer!” The reply, in less than a honey like voice came “This is a brothel, not a pub,” then moving her look to the fellow blocking the exit, “What’s wrong with your mate?”
He replied “Don’t worry about him, he’s a Queenslander.”
Feeling the glow emanating from my face, I turned on my heel and barged past the body blocking my retreat and relishing my mortification.
I almost ran back to the relative safety and privacy of my cab. I phoned home, hoping for a little empathy for my humiliation, but the only response from 'er indoors was laughter.
I spent about twenty minutes on the phone, receiving absolutely no comfort. A few minutes after hanging up, old mate banged on my truck door, simultaneously opening it and climbing onto the step. He again laughed at my situation and described what happened to him, blow by blow. This is not the place to repeat his story, but I was pretty disgusted as he had earlier told me he had a wife and couple of kids in Wagga.
It took quite some time for me to see the humour of the situation.
That is a great tale S.D.U. thanks for taking the time to write it all down and for sharing it with us.
Your post suddenly brought back to my mind something from over forty years ago, while I was watching a television series back in the U.K. I used to really enjoy a programme called ‘Wickers World’ with Alan Wicker, does anybody remember him.
On one of his journeys to Australia, he visited a brothel in Perth, Western Australia, of course it was only for journalistic purposes. The name of the brothel which for some reason I shall never forget, was called “The Tool Box”. One of the reasons being that you could use your credit card and it would come up on your bank statement as, tools.
I wonder if you were able to claim the tax back at the end of the financial year. Maybe we should ask Dig if he knows anything about it.
Spardo, in reply to your question, yes I had heard the expression ‘Road Train’ in the U.K. long before the Leyland Roadtrain went into production. I have a feeling that there may have been other descriptions of a wagon and trailer over the years, wagon and drags or as a friend of mine from Wiltshire used to refer to them as, a wagon and dangler.
As I know that you are interested in canines, I thought that I would mention that in the sixties and seventies, the British military stationed in West Germany used to refer to them as Dog and Pups. I seem to remember that there were more dog and pups going along the Autobahns than there were articulated vehicles back then.
And I might add, when I first arrived in South West Africa in 1975, I turned up at a transport company looking for a driver’s job and was asked if I could drive a Horse and Semi, a question that completely threw me. There were no jobs going there at the time but one of the drivers told me to try South African Railways. Their drivers used to travel 100’s of kilometres collecting cattle from the farms and delivering them to the nearest railhead.
I phoned up the railways employment office straight away and they asked me to come for an interview the following day. When I sat down with the personnel officer, he told me that there had been a mistake and they were only recruiting train drivers. So that was the nearest I ever got to transporting livestock.
Anyway David, I thought that you might find this interesting.
youtube.com/watch?v=3L7s0JP9y7k
And I think that you might have seen this one before but it’s worth watching again.
Love both of those vids and yes, have seen the 2nd one before but several years ago. Never saw that many women when I was in the bush though. 
Favourites? Yes, you know it, the dogs. Never been frightened by a dog but beasts that can squash me always put me on the alert.
I think I was in NSW in '65 and don’t remember anything about a big drought. A couple of years later I was in Queensland, Sarina, Mackay and Townsville and our problems then were too much water in some places. Later, back in NS on the taxis I took a trip out west to Broken Hill and then swung south through Vic, plenty of mud and rain then and our windscreen wiper linkage fell apart, had to operate it by demolishing part of the dash and working it through the hole by hand.
Wagon and drags and their various names, here in France the term is camio-remorque, I learnt that early on as Gauthier then had quite a few, including those with the extending telescopic drawbar. These were popular 20 years ago to get round the overall length laws. I think Paul (Gauthier) told me last year that they are outlawed now and he, for the first time in several years has 3 ‘traditionnels’, 3 axle A-frame trailers, after preferring the centre axle ‘caravans’ for some years after I left.
No sign that the EU is changing to the far more sensible, and favourable for the drivers, trailer length limits rather than overall measurements. No incentive to supply decent sized accommodation for the driver, although I heard on the radio yesterday that that limit is to be increased in UK, not sure by how much though or whether it will be copied here. Even longer trailers then, not bigger cabs. 
MRM, the “loader” in the second video could easily be mistaken for a grader.
Your reply reminded me of another dad from the primary school, my kids attended. He used to investigate fraudulent credit card transactions, for one of the banks. He reckoned the first place a badly went, with a hot card, was a knock shop. They all had creative names, one I recall him mentioning was Yandina Quick Lube.
As it’s got a blade on it Ian, I am sure that it’s a grader.
I remember having to wait 19 hours for a grader to ■■■■■■ me out of a river many years ago. It was one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life.
With the help of Google Earth, it looks like the road is all tarmacked now and they have built a bridge across The Fish River.
earth.google.com/web/search/Ber … DSf0n1XbS_
It’s about time that we had another driver anecdote from the U.K. so I think that it’s time to reshow this uncomfortable night from Dave Penn. 
I spent a couple of nights over the years on ‘The Ramp’ and I remember walking around to Dirty Dicks Pub with a bunch of drivers. It looks like they have cleaned the place up a bit, now they have the dead cats in glass display cases.
Re: Buried at sea
Postby davepenn54 » Sat May 02, 2009 5:56 am
Didn’t get ‘Buried at Sea’ but something similar happened back in the day when I drove a Foden S80 for a small haulage co; in North Manchester.
The company ran two artics (Foden S80’s) and 10 rigids at the time so naturally me and my mate Colin used to run together a lot and we always used to park up at Bishopsgate (The Ramp) when coming through London, which was most of the time, this one night we had both run up from Dover and had been able to park alongside the old station platform which made getting out/in of the cab much easier, especially getting in after a night on the lash up Bethnal Green Rd; This particular night out Colin had left the party 
early and I had gone on with some other lads for more refreshment and to sample the delights of the local kebab house. About 1.30am when we all made our way back to our day cabs to get our heads down I was feeling very smug because I was parked alongside the platform and just had to open the cab door and crawl onto my already made up bed.
So I opened the door, whilst saying my goodnights to my new alcohol related friends 
, I climbed onto my foam bed and OMG there was a body already in my sleeping bag 
I went flying backwards, luckily just onto the platform, with a scream of something like WTF Had I got in the wrong motor? If not had some parafin lamp decided to squat in my ■■■■■ curtained day cab for the night? NO my mate Colin, who had left the party early, had thought it would be a laugh to get in the motor and jump out when I came back Trouble was I was out for another 3hrs and he had made himself comfy and crashed out completely It actually took about 20mins to convince him he was in my motor and his motor was parked right behind 
Oh well it was funny at the time 
Regards
Dave Penn;
RIP Michelle Marie Kerry 26/02/1978 - 03/02/2012
As it’s got a blade on it Ian, I am sure that it’s a grader.
I thought that too MRM, because it reminded me of a day in northern Norway when, as a schoolboy with 5 others and our scout/physics/rugby master, Jake, in his Austin Cambridge pick-up, we came up yet again on another grader that constantly roamed those unmade gravel roads.
The road was banked up with deep ditches each side and the grader pulled over as much as he could to let us pass. Unfortunately Jake got one foot too far over and we all slipped down into the ditch. This obviously was par for the course for the grader driver as he wordlessly stretched out the chain already hanging on his machine, connected it to the Cambridge and pulled us straight back out. At the angle it was it was terrifying for us as we weren’t told to get out and it felt that we would roll at any moment.
Spardo:
As it’s got a blade on it Ian, I am sure that it’s a grader.
I thought that too MRM, because it reminded me of a day in northern Norway when, as a schoolboy with 5 others and our scout/physics/rugby master, Jake, in his Austin Cambridge pick-up, we came up yet again on another grader that constantly roamed those unmade gravel roads.
My grader story is about one of the grader operators employed by the West Australian Main roads department who had a large workshop and numerous machinery operating out of the Derby West Kimberly depot.
We often came across the graders as most of the main roads in those days were gravel or pin down sands and each year after the wet the roads were graded in this case I was travelling north on the Gibb River road almost at the start of the Leopold range when I realised I was catching a grader doing the middle cut on the road so rule of the thumb dolly along behind until he realises he has company behind and they would lift the blade and scoot off the road on the up wind side so he was out of the dust we tended to make a mobile cyclone of the stuff anyhow I was just toodling along and the grader operator I recognised as an old hand because when he was grading he tended to lean his head towards the high side quite a lean he generated and he had been doing it for many years so the lean had developed into a natural habit for him even when having a beer in one of the local pubs he was instantly recognised from the rear by the lean, anyhow I/m tanking along when I suddenly realised I to was developing a lean myself it became a habit I was had pushed to get rid off and the next time I bumped into Charlie he fronted me in the front bar of the pub and asked me why if I was taking the p… I apologised profusely and bought him a beer while I tried to pacify him ,he told me he had had to adapt the lean as his sight in one eye wasnt the best and by leaning he got a better level with his cuts.
A couple od days later a really drunken ringer [stockman] abused one of the barmaids because she refused to serve him due to his drunked state the fella got really abusive and then Charlie stepped in and said you can talk to me like that but you don’t talk to the female staff in that manner so apologise and if you dont behave I shall get upset.
I.m afraid the drunk decided he would teach Charlie a lesson but unfortunately he couldn’t match Charlies haymaker that propelled backwards through the plaster board wall of the Spinifex Arms front bar.
I was really pleased I wasn’t cheeky to Charlie when he challenged my reason for my lean.
Just as a footnote the graders on those days mainly Cat 12s just a sceletil cab bit of shade but definitely not air conditioned.
Dig
Whilst working for a heavy haulage outfit I was tasked with transporting a Cat 120G grader from Townsville wharf to just north of Brisbane. The company was based in Brisbane and as we had a fair bit of specialised gear our prices weren’t cheap. The job was quoted assuming running to Townsville empty. If the truck could be loaded to Townsville, that would be pure profit. Usually there is no shortage of freight going north, getting a load south was more problematic. A three metre wide donga (portable building) was found, looking for a truck to take it to Townsville. As an overdimentional load it was also paying a premium. A 120 G will fit on a drop deck trailer and is far easier to load a donga on, than a float. All I needed to do was level the deck with four stacks of pallets, two at the back and two in the middle. Lay old tyres on the deck and pallets, chain it down, front and back, job done. The drive north must have been uneventful as I recall nothing of it. The donga came off at a roadworks site and the crane was not called until I was on site. After eventually being unloaded, I spent better than an hour reorganising the trailer, shifting twenty pallets, all the dunnage, tarps, tyres and all the other paraphernalia carried on a trailer, by hand, to the upper deck.
I arrived at the wharf during the lunch break, told the office what I was to plck up a 120G grader. After an hour or two of waiting, out trundled a Cat 140 H. I told the wharfie he’d got the wrong machine, his reply “Can’t be, it’s the only one here.”
Now a 140 is considerably bigger than a 12 and at 26 odd tonne a bit heavy for my little dropdeck tri. After phoning the office in Brisbane to confirm it was the right machine, I proceeded to load. I had less than half a tyre on each side of the deck. With it jammed hard against the vertical drop, I still had the rippers hanging a few feet out the back of the trailer. I chained the grader down, made sure the rippers were in the highest position and raised the ramps. They only came up a little over 45⁰. I chained them to the rippers and would have to keep an eye on the back in case the hydraulics leaked, allowing the rippers to drop.
I put up my signage and flags and headed to the Alligator Creek roadhouse for a shower, feed and sleep.
As an oversize vehicle, I was restricted to daylight travel, so I couldn’t avail myself of the relative safety of darkness. Fortunately the Cat was coming off in Nambour, just north of the 24 hour weighbridge and checking station at Burpengary. I managed to unload without any trouble all the way down. Another win for me.
Hi S.D.U. I don’t know if you or K.Mills can remember an incident that happened on The Bruce Highway around Burpengary, back in 1999.
For a few months I had noticed a lot of three-liter plastic milk bottles, spaced out about every 500 meters along the north bound side of the road. I never stopped to see if they were still full of milk but every time I passed that way, there always seemed to be a few more hanging from the branches of some of the trees.
After a while, it was also mentioned on the Channel 7 local news around Brisbane, about all these mysterious milk containers filled with water, that kept turning up during the night.
Eventually, the police caught a suspect in the early hours of the morning and it turned to be an old fellow, who just thought that it could help somebody whose radiator had overheated.
Going back through the Trucknet achieves it seems that somebody was asking “did anybody know a guy called Roger” and sometime later Roger, a.k.a. EagleForce joined in.
My Trucking life 1970’s…
Postby EagleForce » Thu Dec 25, 2008 11:24 pm
I wish to thank Ash, who still remembers when I met him. Thanks to trucknet for a wonderful site. (Does anyone remember asian driver Roger?)
I am Roger real name Satish Kumar. Trucking was never in my blood, what happened was that I lost my job in January 1976 & I ended at the labour exchange. I was offered HGV Class 1 job and he asked me if I’ve rope and sheet experience. (I didnt knew what HGV Class 1 was, thinking its something to do with sheet metal, I noded my head as yes.) I went for interview at local company. Manager asked me for my driving licences, I said they got lost and have applied for duplicate. I was still confused why is he asking me for driving licences, when as I understood its something to do with fork lifts. Anyway he gave me the job and said to start at 6 in the morning as I’ll be going with another guy. Following morning big guy was waiting for me in Bedford tk with a flat bed trailer, he said jump in and said its a easy day as we only have one load to deliver in dagenham. He said he’ll drive to Bowater Scott where load of andrex will be loaded. He asked me my name, I said Satish Kumar, he goes nice to meet you Sataachgsf Cubaa, I said, call me Roger. It started to come in my mind that this is a truck driving job. After it was loaded he said, he’ll go and collect paper and asked me to sheet it. I had no idea but soon he was back and showed me how to put a dolly in rope. He drove to Dagenham and after tipping, he asked me to drive. I prayed lord and navigated the Bedford home in one piece. Day was over by 11am, and I was told by manager that I will be on my own from tomorrow. On my way to home, I buyed articulated toy truck & started to learn the reverse manouvers. I then started to practice the sheeting by throwing bed sheet over bed headboard. I was there for 3 months before he realised I had no licences. He informed cops and in court I got away lightly with a fine of £30. There was nothing on earth going to stop me from driving trucks, I applied for provisional HGV1 and on 20th December 1976, gave my test at Gillingham test centre, I passed first time… Reeve Transport was looking for HGV 1 driver and I applied for job. They were based in yard of Horton Kirby Paper Mills, Farningham. Bert Reeve said that as I am a new driver, he wont risk putting me on artics and instead he put me on flat bed 4 wheeler AEC, I enjoyed driving that for 6 weeks and then I was put on artics, my first truck was MAN 16.232 reg number STX 274M, day cab hauling AGA trailers all over UK, Thats when I had misfortune in communicating with Mr Russ Mcnally who was a transport clerk at AGA. Soon after that Bert Reeve gained confidence in me and I was given MAN 16.280 reg number LJS 876S.
Reeves then moved to Station Yard in Erith where Russ joined em and I didnt get on well with him, so before they moved to Bilton Road, I quit… I did for time to time worked for him doing odd jobs, not forgeting the trunking for International Stores Swanley to Yeovil. One day Bert Reeve called me to ask, if I am available to do a run down to Florence for Defoy Int. That was my first trip on continent although done many change overs at Ostend port for AGA. I took Deofy trailer to Florence through ventimilia, Bert wouldn’t let me use Mont Blanc saying its too dangerous. I left Florence with other Defoy drivers who used Mont Blanc and I used ventimilia and came back in defoy yard in Belvedere ahead of others which surprised Mr Peter Danzie. As I was looking for permanent work, I asked Mr Danzie if any he can offer me a job. he said, he has a list long enough to keep the company going for 2 years,… funny though as he called me within 4 hours to attend interview. At interview he said, Ok Roger, welcome to Defoy, you are going to Italy leaving tomorrow afternoon. he continued, this is your French permit, this is your italian permit and this is your italian permit. I looked at him and questioned, why do I need 2 italian permits? He looked around and said, ever heard of a mickey mouse permit. I said I have heard of mickey mouse in cartoons.
Mr danzie replied, welcome to Defoy land, and I was given Scania 111. Never looked back and continued to make friends along the road and also did help a few. I remember I pulled into ELF service area outside paris once and saw a lady standing next to Scania 111 with cab tilted on english plates, I asked her whats wrong, she replied, her husband has gone to make some phone calls, as diesel pipe has split., I always carried spare, so I offered one of the spare pipes i had. When I came after a wash, this guy was really pleased and he tried to offer me £3 which I refused for diesel pipe., but he really wanted to pay for it, so I took £1 to keep him happy, Defoy was going strong, when Hamish joined em, for some reason Hamish was saving the Italian used permits under his bunk. Unfortunately he was killed in accident in genoa and Italians found the permits. That was the downfall of Defoy. I then joined BJ Meyers and also worked for fat twit called Ralph Davies in Cheltenham. Ralph was happy with my work and offered me a Scania which I refused as I was now a fan of F16, so I had R666 RDF, and over the months I noticed that wages was somehow not right. For ralph I covered Portugal, Spain, and other european countries. I also worked for G&S Int hauling IBM computers from Gourock to Madrid and many more. Another clown by name of Barry Reed who was running BFR Refridgrated Transport from Coventry Airport took me on in january 2000. With him I was staying in Spain most of the time bringing loaded trailers into France and changing over for back into Spain or Portugal. He went bust in October 2000 owing me £1500+ , which I never got. Finally I stopped International routes in Oct 2000. Merry Christmas and a happy new year to all … Ray Biggar a good friend with whom I worked at Reeves, Defoy & BJ Meyers is greatly missed. Any pics of Defoy will be greatly appreciated…Thanks.
EagleForce
MEMBER
Posts: 2
Joined: Thu Dec 25, 2008 1:59 pm
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G’day MRM, I remember the milk bottles. Cops prevented him from doing it, threatening to do him for littering, or something equally petty.
He said he did it because most of the broken down cars, he saw, had overheating issues.
As regards to my last post, I wondered if peterm had remembered about those ‘emergency water bottles’, as he lives not far from that stretch of The Bruce Highway, which is now being renamed, The Pacific Coast Highway.
Apologies to K.Mills if he was wondering what I was on about.
An old post from Switzerland or should it be Italy.
My Mistake
Postby Wheel Nut » Sun Feb 20, 2005 11:42 pm
Actually it not my mistake! you don’t think I would admit something like this on here do you?
A few years ago, at a company I worked at. we used to ship from Felixstowe to either Europoort or Zeebrugge and then catch the train from Freiburg in Germany to Milan when tipping Italy
At the terminal in Freiburg it was quite well organised, but could be very busy.
Once you have your tickets and in those days cleared customs you were directed to the lanes for the correct train. This bloke Pete, then parked up waiting for the train which would arrive later in the evening.
You then drove on to the train and placed chocks under your wheels before carting your sleeping bag and pillows down the track to the sleeping compartment. Most drivers also took a few cans and some food with them to eat on the journey.
Pete had walked down the track following some other drivers and claimed a bunk in the carriage 
and went to bed.
It was only the next morning when he woke up to find himself in unfamilier surroundings, He was in Lugano in Switzerland, and his truck was in Milan without a driver
A 50 mile taxi ride, paid out of his own pocket, to cover the mistake up and that was the end of the problem,!!!
Except the company got a bill for holding the train up, as they had to split the train in Milan to get the rest of the trucks unloaded until he arrived, very red faced in the Taxi
Because he had got out of the right hand side of his cab and followed some drivers to the sleeping carriage, he forgot that they were on the Lugano Train and he had parked on the correct Milan train, The sleeping carriages were coupled up after the train was fuly loaded, so they had an L or an M on the destination board
Postby brit pete » Sun Feb 20, 2005 11:59 pm
MALC. thats why they now write on yout ticket the no --of the
sleepingcompartment, What also used to happen in Freiburg was
a few drivers staying too long in the gardenspub and haveing to take
a taxi to Basel train station to catch up with the train before it was too
far away,
That is a great tale MRM and more than betters my own latest absent minded story bringing a Dobermann back here from Clermont Ferrand.
The weather was atrocious on the A 89 and the surface lousy which allowed large lakes of water to accumulate making the car think it was aquaplaning and thus switching off the cruise control. I thought the engine was cutting out at first and was panicking about the expectation of being stranded amid thunder, lightning and impenetrable spray before coming to my senses and taking back control (where have I heard that phrase before? ).
So I carried on straining my eyes to see, ever expecting to be faced with a massive pile up of all those idiots thundering blindly past me, but becoming more and more confused in trying desperately to follow the correct overhead signs when suddenly I passed a sortie with the number 47 on it. How could that be? I was travelling from Clermont to Perigueux on the A 89 towards Bordeaux and I knew that I had left S.25 and was planning to leave at S.16. Where the hell had 47 come from? I glanced at the satnav (which I only use as a scrolling map) and saw the words ‘driving on the A 20’ above the screen.
A 20 where had that come from? That goes north-south and I am going east-west. Panicking now and thinking I was heading for Cahors I determined to leave at the next exit wherever it went and try and work out a route from there to get back on track, when the next one came up with the sign A 89 Bordeaux and Perigueux .
Despite travelling these roads many hundreds of times (including outward bound that very same day), the disorientating effect of driving for so long in an isolating bubble of rain and spray had completely wiped from my mind that, near Brive, the A 89 takes a 21 km dog leg (how appropriate ) down the A 20. 
How on earth could I have forgotten that? Understandable in the circumstances but at the time, very frightening. I had registered all this confusion with suitable expletives to my wife, Fran, sitting alongside who was completely unmoved by it all. She has Alzheimer’s, the reason I can only do day runs now and must take her with me as well as my own dogs, and was blissfully unaware of any danger. On the other hand, I could cheer myself up with a pat on the back for being so completely professional to install such trust and confidence in my abilities.
And did.
Re: How I became a Truck Driver…with acknowledgements to
Postby Jazzandy » Mon May 13, 2013 5:45 am
Thanks for starting this thread Saviem. I’m sure it will prove extremely interesting.
For myself, I was known as a truck and bus ‘nut’ at school as evidenced by my constant scribbling in the margins of my exercise books. I used to write to the various manufacturers expressing my interests and received back loads of information including from continental companies such as Berliet, Unic and Hanomag. My study wall was plastered with pictures from their brochures and for my sins I was a particular fan of Leyland with their comets, super comets, octopuses etc., and of course their state of the art Atlantean, the prototype of which had its exhaust outlet at the rear end of the roof which I thought very ■■■■ indeed.
At college I had spent the summers working on the British Rail ferries between Dover and Boulogne and when I left, instead of going into teaching, for which I had spent three gloriously carefree years training, I continued working on the ferries and when laid off during the winter months drove taxis. The next summer, no sooner had I been signed on to the ferries than there was a huge seaman’s strike. Rather than report to the dole office, I decided to take a driving job with East Kent Road Car. This involved two weeks of concentrated driving instruction on a Guy Arab 111 with a five pot Gardner and crash box and then my test in Canterbury which was notable for the examiner running the length of the bus to shout that I couldn’t get in between the two vehicles I was relentlessly heading for. However by the time he had thumped me between the shoulder blades I was already there and had proved him wrong! Needless to say I passed the test and obtained my PSV licence. The training at East Kent was very thorough and I learnt how to change down double-declutching as the revs dropped going uphill and more importantly to do the same while going downhill. This involved putting on the handbrake and judiciously using the footbrake to slow the vehicle down while double declutching down through the gears without hurling the top deck passengers out of the front windows. ‘Never never never go down a hill in a higher gear than you would use to go up it,’ was one of the mantras drummed into us. There then followed a week of route and vehicle familiarisation. So I enjoyed driving a range of buses from AEC Regents and Reliances to Dennis Lancet service buses and what the drivers referred to as spaceships which were Dennis Lancets with Park Royal luxury coach bodies but with the most peculiar gearbox which featured first at bottom right and second at top left. We travelled all over east Kent at our leisure it seemed from depot to depot in each of which we patronised the company tea rooms and I became well versed on all the inter-town routes between Maidstone, Ashford, Canterbury, Thanet, Folkestone and the home depot at Dover. We also spent a day traversing all of the Dover town services and then I was ready for my first shift. One thing I will say is that East Kent made the job interesting in that your roster for the day contained a mix of routes so you would for example start with a couple of runs between the market square and the suburb of Maxton. Then you’d take an 87 to Ramsgate and back followed by another local and then you’d finish off with a 15 to Canterbury and back.
I stuck at this for a good two weeks and the strike was over. Unfortunately the call of the sea with its duty frees and assistant purser’s uniform with the gold braid was too attractive to resist and the pay overwhelmingly better. So I rather shamefacedly informed the depot manager that the job was not for me and handed in my uniform. That is one episode of my life of which I am not particularly proud in that East Kent had treated me extremely well and had invested a considerable effort in my training. I often think that if I’d stayed I could have been a multi-millionaire like Brian Souter but that’s what dreams are made of.
After that long summer on the Lord Warden car ferry I couldn’t face another winter of taxiing so I became a supply teacher for a short while but then drifted into being a manager for Avis rent a car in Dover. Their truck rental department had just started at Euston road in London and one day I received a call from them asking if I could collect an AEC Mandator which had been abandoned at a Dover filling station. I duly turned up thinking, this is bigger than I thought and then had to put on a show that I knew what I was doing The largest commercials I’d driven to date apart from the buses were Ford Transit’s and one of my first cars at college which was in fact a Morris J2 van although I had driven old TVO Fordson major’s on an uncle’s farm and newer diesel majors on a friend’s farm so I wasn’t entirely without ‘commercial experience’! One thing I had learnt at the age of about fourteen was never to allow a tractor to roll out of gear. I’d done that once with a full load of hay on the back and my diesel major on a steep field was gathering speed at an alarming rate. Luckily one of the farmer’s sons was with me on the tractor and managed to bring us to a halt alongside the hedge at the bottom without turning the whole caboodle over. I was shaking all over but it taught me an invaluable lesson.
Once behind the wheel of the Mandator, I surveyed the steering wheel with its smart red and blue embossed AEC badge and the instrument binnacle. I marvelled at the window winding mechanism and tried the gear lever positions, I think it was a six speed, before starting her up. Tractor only she was quite sprightly and I rapidly learnt that you did not need to start off in crawler as I sidled out of the filing station and onto the main A2. I managed to nurse her back to our own depot and proudly parked up and made a professional job of jumping out and locking up. When I entered the office there was a message asking if I could drive it up to London! This was a no brainer and the trucking bug and the call of the open road was irretrievably inside me.
Later I became manager of the Euston depot and, whenever I could, deputised myself to collect new F88’s and FB88’s from Volvo at Irvine after having experienced the luxury of the night sleeper up to Glasgow. As time went by we were renting tractors to most of the pop groups for European tours, and increasingly to continental transporters including Astran and I discovered that the drivers were earning a lot more than I was so I became an agency driver one summer for Industrial Overload, that led to car transporters and then on to continental work. The rot had truly set in!
Jazzandy
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Posts: 1100
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Back in 2008, truckerash asked me if I knew of an ex Astran driver called John Holland. Ash told me that John had moved over to Perth in Western Australia so after searching through the Perth W.A. telephone book, I came across two John Hollands. I left a message on both of their answering machines but nobody ever got back to me.
Eight years later I am pleased to say that John came across the Trucknet site and shared a few of his stories with us.
After reading some of his posts recently, he mentioned that he and Jeff Ruggins had to go up to the Avis depot at Euston to pick up two Volvo F 88’s.
If you read jazzandy’s story above, I wonder if Andy was the Avis depot manager at the time.
Middle East Drivers
Postby JOHN HOLLAND » Fri Jan 22, 2016 7:11 am
Hi My name John Holland and I’ve found out today that Bob Paul from Asian Transport is dead. I joined Asian Transport in 1973 with Bob Paul & Mike Woosman as directors and the other drivers where Bob Vallis, ■■■■ Snow, Peter Cannon, Tony Samson, Johnny William, David Poulton, Mr Pearson. I started the same day as Jeff Ruggin and we done our first trip to Iran both driving Volvo f88 from Avis trucks. My first company truck I drove was a Scania 140 rego TDX400K which I later bought from Bob on A gentleman’s agreement and then subbed to Asian Transport/Astran . The office was in Chislehurst opposite the Bickley Arms and many a drink was taken in that pub. We then moved to West Malling. I now live in Perth W.A. and have be an owner driver pulling triple road trains and got into heavy haulage as well. but its with great sadness to here about the lost of people like Bob Paul. Johnny William, ■■■■ Snow. Bob Paul was a true gentleman of the world and he’s wife Caroline was a true Lady , Thanks for the memories and the life aspirants RIP Bob Paul. regards john Holland.
Re: Middle East Drivers
Postby truckyboy » Thu Feb 11, 2016 4:23 am
Hi John, nice to hear from you and hope your keeping well, Jeff Ruggins took me on my first trip, i was woprking for Asian Tpt, and did a month trotting around europe with a dutch company called Brutink i also had the Red Volvo F88 out of Avis Euston Road, and feel sure we went together to pick them up…I remember you having a huge silver tray in your cab…those were the days of the 8 track i believe, i loved my music too, and spent a small fortune on them at the time…what ever happened to those volvos ? As yo say it was a sad day when Bob passed away, and some of the others too, the most recent being Mr Parlane, his wife is often on facebook, recalling memories, along with other middle east veterans, there is a page dedicated to that era. Hope the weather is nice and warm over there , as its bloody freezing over here…take care and speak soon. regards Bobby
( ray ) white.
Re: Middle East Drivers
Postby truckerash » Thu Feb 11, 2016 5:49 am
Hi John.
I spent one year trying to “find you” when I was researching and writing my book; The Long Haul Pioneers, the complete history of Asian Transport & Astran.
Sorry I never managed to track you down, but at least you have “found all of us”>…
Here you are posing…Photo taken by Bobby Vallas who had left Astran by this time, and was driving the Oryx F89.
Best regards Ash
ps; (I have sent you an email)
Postby JOHN HOLLAND » Sun Mar 13, 2016 5:02 am
Hi Just about one trip I did to Kabul. Bob Paul told me my next trip was to Kabul and I had a special load which turn out to be Afghan money which was printed by the Royal Mint in the UK so off I start on my trip to Kabul and had no troubles at all till I left Iran and travelled the 17km of no mans land and it has an Afghan army post half way to check on visa’s which I had but the solder did not recognise my visa but after about an hour he let me through and I got to the custom area on the Afghan side were the chief of custom greeted me like I was god he told me he had a phone call from the President to expect a truck from the British Government that phone call was the highlight of his life. I had to say the night at the border and when I woke up in the morning I had about 50 solders around my truck. So I spoke to the custom chief to get my paper work done and ill be on my way to which he told me than I would be traveling to Kabul very safely. It use to take me about 17hrs driving from the border to Kabul but I had to wait one more day which I was getting ■■■■■■ off with waiting around then when I looked up the road their was 4 army trucks full of solders ready to ■■■■■■ me to Kabul their trucks were old S type Bedford about 1950 models. Well a trip should of taken me about 17 hrs took me 3 days from Herat/Kandahar/Kabul and when we arrived the truck was parked in the police compound for a day then the guys from the British Embassy turn up and we got escorted to the Royal Palace in town were I had a big argument with the army about them wonting to drive my truck inside whilst I stayed outside so after telling them that it was going to happen that way their let me drive inside and for me to drop my trailer where there wonted it. So I drove in and parked in the right place for them and started to wind down my legs on the trailer when all the army guy started to [zb] themselves so I turned around and well The President of Afghanistan/ The Fiancés Minister and The Minister of Interior where standing there as it takes all three of them to open the vault then the President came over to me and asked me in good English what I was doing so I told him I had to leave and wait outside to which he said I was a guest of Afghanistan and I could stay so I did. The next day I had to get an exit visa to leave so the guys from the British Embassy took my passport and arranged that for me. Four days later I got my passport back and asked about my entry visa as I had trouble getting in and was told that the visa their gave me in London was a one off entry visa that would only be renewed on me delivering the load to Kabul. After which I got hold of ■■■■ Parkinson an agent for Oriental Carpet Manufacture in Kabul and loaded carpet back to London and off loaded them at their warehouse near St Pauls Cathedral in London. One more trip done Regards John Holland
Re: Middle East Drivers
Postby JOHN HOLLAND » Wed Mar 16, 2016 4:47 pm
Hi. Just a couple of stamps from my old passport and it has to be one of the best trip that a man can do. You can forget about Tahir in eastern Turkey although in winter it gave me a few changelings times but Afghanistan/Pakistan was without doubt the most rewarding for me. From Herat/Kandahar/Kabul was boring to drive the Russian’s built the road from Herat to Kandahar and was just concrete slabs every 25mtr but from Kandahar to Kabul was buit by the Yanks which was good. But the road from Kabul to Islamabad was great its what mountains and gorges are all about the over The Khyber Pass which is about 75km long that part of the trip tested your driving skill’s. Then you had to get over the Terbela River which the British had built a bridge over but was not designed to take a articulated truck over it had an arch way at 90 deg angle to the road so you drove through until your trailer would hit about half way down the top so you had to jack one side up and try to push it straight to get onto the bridge all go fun with half of the locals watching giving you all the advice you need but it was the greats bite of road that I’ve driven on I’ve enclosed a couple of photo of that road Regards John Holland
Re: Middle East Drivers
Postby JOHN HOLLAND » Fri Mar 11, 2016 11:29 am
Hi Just a couple of my photos from the past first one is going up the Khyber Pass the next two are at the Afghan/Pakistan border the next one is part of the road up the Khyber Pass towards the Khyber Riffles Fort and the last one is between Doha/UAE before the road was there
Very interesting stuff MRM, especially this bit which rings a few bells for me, although some of my bells are different to John’s.
Just a couple of stamps from my old passport and it has to be one of the best trip that a man can do. You can forget about Tahir in eastern Turkey although in winter it gave me a few changelings times but Afghanistan/Pakistan was without doubt the most rewarding for me. From Herat/Kandahar/Kabul was boring to drive the Russian’s built the road from Herat to Kandahar and was just concrete slabs every 25mtr but from Kandahar to Kabul was buit by the Yanks which was good. But the road from Kabul to Islamabad was great its what mountains and gorges are all about the over The Khyber Pass which is about 75km long that part of the trip tested your driving skill’s. Then you had to get over the Terbela River which the British had built a bridge over but was not designed to take a articulated truck over it had an arch way at 90 deg angle to the road so you drove through until your trailer would hit about half way down the top so you had to jack one side up and try to push it straight to get onto the bridge all go fun with half of the locals watching giving you all the advice you need but it was the greats bite of road that I’ve driven on I’ve enclosed a couple of photo of that road Regards John
Funny how memory plays tricks as you get older and mine more than most, but mine tells me that the concrete road was built by the Yanks and the tarmac by the Ruskies, not the other way round as John says. Perhaps I should give way to him as he passed that way sometime after me and his memory is fresher. Also perhaps I was impressed with a song by a country singer called ‘Sailor on a Concrete Sea’ and in the depths somewhere I think that’s how the Yanks built all their roads.
I don’t remember the bridge either, but then perhaps that is not surprising for I was driving an AEC coach and height was the least of my considerations. I do remember the Khyber though as we had to get all the passengers out and push up the hills because the engine had lost so much power due to dirty diesel bought at the roadside. 
Hi David, I once worked with a bloke who drove a Volvo F88 up and down The Khyber Pass in the early seventies. I remember him telling me that along the pass, there were British military cap badges or coats of arms, carved out in some of the rock faces, of all the British regiments who had been stationed there over the years.
Do you remember seeing any of them.
Some more of John Holland’s photos. Click on the pictures to enlarge them.
This is the British Army post on The Khyber Pass.
This is the road about 400 kilometers north of Kabul heading towards the Russian border, which gets snowed in for about four months of the year.
One of the locals.
Just stunning country.
The road at Mahipar.
If you look at the top right hand side of the photo, you can see the concrete wall which is the top part of the road.
Then you drop down and come out at the bottom.
Do you remember seeing any of them.
I do not, nor that fort, though it does look a bit like the Red Fort in Delhi. But perhaps I was too busy driving or just as often sharing the pushing to get to the top. I do remember those colourful wagons though, but mainly in Pakistan. I think it was called The Great North Road then. There are things I remember vividly and many more that are lost completely. As others have said, if only I had had a camera. But I did have a camera, a Kodak Retinette 1A, a realy good one but very rarely used it. I used it so little that when I flew from Delhi to Darwin via HK I left it in storage in my big suitcase at Cox and King’s. I got it back in Blighty several years later when I asked them to send it to me. You’d think years of storage plus air freight home would have cost a fortune. But that is another thing I have forgotten, so it can’t have been too mighty.