Just realised that you already had yours MRM, ours is in just over 2 hours. Managed it twice a year for 24 years, just a couple of dozen of us, a message from the Pres read by the Maire, another from the Ancien Combattants leader, the Resistants have long passed on, every name read out to a dipping of the flags, the Marseillaise, and back to the salle for the Vin d’Honneur. 
I don’t know who put this photo up on Trucknet many years ago but it sprang into my mind on Saturday, while I was attending an Armistice Day Remembrance Service.
I never knew my grandad, my mother was only five months old when her father Harry, was called up to go to France with The Lancashire Fusiliers, in August 1914.
3rd August. Germany declared war on France.
4th August. Britain declared war on Germany.
20th August. Harry arrives in Boulogne, France and is sent to Mons in Belgium.
23rd August. The first British shots in Belgium were fired against the Germans.
26th August. Harry, along with over 1,500 British servicemen lay dead.
I found it interesting to learn that on the 1911 Census of England and Wales, Harry was employed as a Chaffaeur Steam Motor Driver, at a cotton dyeing company in Heywood so whenever I see this photo, I sometimes think of him.
A great story here with thanks to Paul Rowlands.
Postby PROWLANDS » Fri Oct 03, 2008 11:42 pm
I have just read Storming Normans account of a 75/76 winters trip through Eastern Turkey and how bad the weather was. That could well be an understatement, all the local experts reckoned on it being the worst winter for 50 years, I don’t know but I have never before or since been in such a cold place as Eastern Turkey.
Taffy and I were running together again and even though we had already done Iran in October and December, seperately, nothing could have prepared us for a proper Turkish winter. We’d shipped out I think January 10th/11th from Felixstowe-Zeebrugge, had a good run through into theEastern Bloc, border controls at places like Weidhaus were still struggling to deal with the flow of West European trucks transitting their countries. Until we Middle Easterners appeared on the scene traffic activity had been non existent… We encountered our first heavy snow at Cluj Napoca, Rumania, and from then on all the way through to Marand in Iran, 2500 miles it stayed with or near us.
The clamber over the Balkans was mostly with chains on, the scenery was magnificent. You have to remember this would have been the first time we wouild have to use chains in anger, and I also remember laying them out on the ground and driving onto them the first time, still you soon learn, and get quicker! And then there was the problm with brakes not releasing, because they were frozen on. The first time this happened in Stara Zagora. Major learning curve this trip turned out to be. Drain air tanks as often as possible and ensure alcohol bottle kept full, otherwise out with paint remover gun and heat pipes which were all exposed to the elements. In -15% you don’t want to be doing this to often.
Anyway we dropped down to Kapic and through the border quite quickly. Stopped at the first garage Edirne and picked up bottles of Tamyak, a fuel additive that reduces the freezing point of diesel from about -9, when diesel starts to jellify, to about -20, depending on the mix, the last resort was adding petrol which we did on numerous occasions, up to 30/40 litres, sometimes gave a good fireworks display. There was intermittant snow all day and that night stopped at Luleburgaz and not a Polis in sight!. The following morning woke up to find 2/3 feet of snow all around, and had to wait for a grader to come along till we could access the road, bit of a sod getting the chains on the nearside as the snow had piled up to the top of the wheel arch, anyway as an ex boy scout I was prepared and we eventually cleared the snow away and fitted the chains.
On the flat lands I tried to get away with just chains on the drive wheels. slow progress and then chaos at the big climb before you dropped down through Silivri. There were trucks all over the place on that climb, but we eventually got through down to the Mocamp. So far we had lost about a day and a half. We decided if the weather was pulling in we would have a clean up here and leave early the next day but one. We pulled out with a couple of other guys and actually had a reasonable trip to Ankara, other than chaining up for Bolu, Just a few snow showers, but what we had noticed that the snow was’nt clearing up during the day, on the roads because it was so cold it remained icy and rutty even withheavy traffic using it. It was a long day and we eventually pulled into Ankara truck stop about 6pm.
I won’t bore you with to much detail, suffice to say we got away the following morning and the journey to Erzurum took us 5 days, it was horrendous.
We actually pulled into a garage forecourt 20 miles East of Erzurum early afternoon, by this time we’d lost track of the days. We decided to stop there as there was already another Brit, a French guy and a Romtrans ( double manned), later on another couple of guys pulled in, a Belgian followed by another double manned Romtrans, they were so heavily covered in snow it was difficult to recognise their nationality. These Romanian guys were the bees knees, these Romtrans, been there, done that, all very slowly mark you, but they’d got the badges, lucky for us. At the garage there was basically a shed, three pumps and a rough area where we all parked. The garage guy was great and gave us chai. He had worked in Germany as a Gastarbeiter. The Belgian guy Saul, Sorry I remember no other names, great pity, spoke German and was able to converse with the Turkish pump operator. Basically he said it was the worst winter for many many years and worse was to come over the next 72 hours. Best to stay here.
There had been no traffic come past either way since we had arrived and the Turk said later will come grader and he was going home in the grader cab until the weather improved. This did’nt sound to good. Half an hour later out of the snowy gloom appeared a grader all chained up. Off went the pump man, not to be seen for three days!!
Well there we were, nine guys, seven trucks. This is where the experience of the Romanian guys came in. They were used to bad winters over in central Russia. Both of the assistant drivers(party members) spoke a little German so they told us we needed to batten down the hatches for the next 2/3 days. First rule of surviving in bad weather DO NOT SWITCH OFF ENGINE!!, and in fact over the next 8 days I had my engine running continuously.
To be continued…
BOLU, TURKEY.
mushroomman:
I don’t know who put this photo up on Trucknet many years ago but it sprang into my mind on Saturday, while I was attending an Armistice Day Remembrance Service.I never knew my grandad, my mother was only five months old when her father Harry, was called up to go to France with The Lancashire Fusiliers, in August 1914.
3rd August. Germany declared war on France.
4th August. Britain declared war on Germany.
20th August. Harry arrives in Boulogne, France and is sent to Mons in Belgium.
23rd August. The first British shots in Belgium were fired against the Germans.
26th August. Harry, along with over 1,500 British servicemen lay dead.I found it interesting to learn that on the 1911 Census of England and Wales, Harry was employed as a Chaffaeur Steam Motor Driver, at a cotton dyeing company in Heywood so whenever I see this photo, I sometimes think of him.
3
2
1
A sad story but a significant and, sadly, so often repeated one. My Grandads fared better, both seafarers, one a Master Mariner engaged on armaments transport he even named his house after his ship, Armourer. It is in Chorlton ■■■ Hardy, Manchester and still bears that name carved into the large stone gatepost. I passed that way a few years ago and knocked on the door to ask if they minded me taking a photo from the street. The Asian lady who answered seemed a little confused at first but gave me the go ahead gladly.
The other, based in Southampton, was a Chief Engineer and I remember him as very fierce looking with bushy eyebrows, which I have inherited, a source of great amusement here as it was many years before I would allow my lady barber to touch them 
. Both lived well into the 1950s before dying peacefully in their respective adopted cities.
Love the picture of the double sleeper, is it a steamer, if so it would explain the single light blanket each driver is covered by. Would they have kept the fire in all night do you think? 
Another good tale of the road to the East, on my trip east we didn’t go via eastern Turkey but south into Syria and Lebanon, then east to Damascus, south to Jordan and then east again through Iraq and beyond. Thus missing the worst of the weather he describes. 
Also Israel, entry to which we would have got no further, a stamp in your passport there meant a ban from entering all the Arab states that surrounded it.
Spardo:
Love the picture of the double sleeper, is it a steamer, if so it would explain the single light blanket each driver is covered by. Would they have kept the fire in all night do you think?
Yes, I think that it looks like a steam lorry. At least Harry would have had a good night heater, unlike Paul Rowlands on his trip through Turkey many years later.
PART TWO.
Postby PROWLANDS » Fri Oct 03, 2008 2:42 pm
The Romtrans guys organised us all, it was like survival training, Saul, the Belgian guy had a Berliet and five of us managed to squeeze in there and four in one of the Romanians trucks. The Romtrans guys through the Belgian guy interpreting, said what we should do, Basically they had all the tackle needed to survive extreme weather.
What we would do would be to keep an ear out during the night for each others engines and if any of them stopped we would all muck in to try and restart it, if we left it for more than an hour it would cool down so rapidly we would not be able to start it again. We all agreed. Then it was outside for all of us to help the Rumo’s set up their cut down drums under their trailers. They had three each, cut to about a foot in depth. the idea was to fill them with a mixture of diesel and petrol, fill them full of rags when necessary and pull them into place under whichever unit needed to be restarted. Of course they had all the rags they needed and we had none. Later that night we were ripping up our own towels to help out. I have never been so cold, wrapped up as I was, it was mind numbingly cold, I don’t know -30C, just a guess. In did’nt really want to be there, where’s me mum… According to the guys the important parts to keep warm when the engine stops are the diesel tank, fuel filters, and make sure the engine stays warm enough for the oil not to solidify !!!. The rumo guys had their fuel filter wrapped in rags.
Eventually that night we all went to bed, Taffy came and had a cuppa in my cab and we talked about what the hell we are doing here, I suppose in all honesty we were a bit scared, I’d heard talk that Erzurum was among the 20 coldest cities in the world, I don’t know, but that night I could well believe it. Taffy went back to his cab and I fully dressed with jumpers on lay in my sleeping bag, a very good quality one supposedly good enough for the Arctic. I pulled out the Hand throttle to above tickover and with the heater on full blast ( no night heater then) went into a fitful sleep. Morning came, there was a whiteout and as Pumpman had said it looked as if it was here to stay.
Nothing came past all day and the road ahd 4 feet of snow covering it. We mostly stayed in our cabs, sharing food and drinks and when called on by the Rumo’s tried as best we could to clear snow from around our trucks, so we had acces to each other should we need it. They had put covers on their drums to stop the snow getting in and when they opened one up to check it it was just like a heavy, thick grey gravy, not very imposing. It was a very long day, very heavy snow squalls with an exceptionally bitter wind interspersed with a dull greyness. That night we all went off to bed and again I fell into a fitfull sleep. Even though the heater was going well you could feel the cold coming through the cab panels, It was a fight between the heater and the elements, luckily the heater was winning.
I don’t know what the time was but there was a banging on the cab. I opened the door to be met with the Belgian Saul. Camion stopped, quick. Give everyone their due we were all out within 2/3 minutes, the Rumo’s were already trying to pull the barrels towards the Berliet. Two of us were shovelling snow out of the way and betwwen us the drums were in place. rags including our pristine English towels were chucked in the gruel and the Rumo guys got some strips of material, dipped them in the mix and with our paint remover guns set fire to them, these were fed slowly into the drums until things were going. Meanwhile Saul had been panicking, as would have I, trying to restart his truck, It nearly did the first couple of times, then one of the Romtrans guys told him to stop or else a flat battery. I felt like In was in a dream.
One of the Romanians had got on a sleeping bag with the bottom cot out and two holes for arms with string tied round his chest. I cannot repeat often enough how good these Romanian guys were, their knowledge and professionalism most probably saved our lives. All the time they were tending the drum fires, making sure nothing caught fire, we just did as we were told. Once the fuel filters had heated up sufficiently I was told to pull the drum out of the way and wrap an old sleeping bag around them, I’ve no idea where that came from.
About 20 minutes later they told Saul to try and start his truck. First twist of the key it was up and running. Many times I’ve thought back to that time and wondered how we would have coped on our own, and the truth is I don’t know. The following winter we were more prepared but the winters were nowhere near as bad as this one. The Romanian blokes poured another 10 litres of petrol into Saul’s tank and we waited for about 10 minutes trying to keep warm around the drums till the Rumo’s said all good now. we all mucked in to pull everything under the trailers and the lids were put back on the drums to put out the flames.
During this whole interlude the snow had stopped, but as soon as we climbed back into our cabs, filthy dirty but so pleased with the result, the blizzard started again, It was about 5am. I sat in the cab of the other Brit, I remember he was from Birmingham, but that’s it, and we had a brew up. Crawled back into my cab at about 6am still pitch black and fell asleep filthy dirty, but I did’nt care. How much longer would we have to be here? When was the weather going to break?
Ps. I did hear later from a reliable source temperatures in Eastern turkey had got down to as low -40. True or not I don’t know, but if you’d said to me it was -100 it would’nt have made a difference. this was a cold like no other.
I’ve got to meet the good lady now, and I don’t know how to save it, so i’ll submit this bit and I’ll finish off tomorrow, there’s a similar twist to Normans story to finish this off
PROWLANDS
SENIOR MEMBER
Posts: 158
Joined: Sat Aug 09, 2008 9:50 pm
Top
To be continued…
P.S. I forgot to mention that on the photo of Bolu mountain that I posted yesterday, it shows one of Romtrans, affectionately known as F Troop.
And I think that this might have been one of Paul’s trucks but I don’t know if this was the truck that he used in this story.
Also, I am not sure exactly where Paul was parked up but I am guessing that it was about 60 miles west of Tahir. M.M.
Spardo:
A sad story but a significant and, sadly, so often repeated one. My Grandads fared better, both seafarers, one a Master Mariner engaged on armaments transport he even named his house after his ship, Armourer. It is in Chorlton ■■■ Hardy, Manchester and still bears that name carved into the large stone gatepost. I passed that way a few years ago and knocked on the door to ask if they minded me taking a photo from the street. The Asian lady who answered seemed a little confused at first but gave me the go ahead gladly.
I think that I have mentioned it to you before Spardo, just how many of your stories remind me of something similar that has happened sometime in my life. As regards the stone gatepost, it turns out that my great, great, grandfather on my father’s side, was a builder and his brother was a stone mason in Stourbridge but that’s another tale for another time.
Postby PROWLANDS » Mon Oct 06, 2008 7:53 am
Just to complete this episode.
As I said I got back into my cab at about 6am, filthy dirty but with a sense of fulfillment, if that does’nt sound to pretentious. These were experiences I could never have dreamed of having to deal with and I don’t reckon would have been on any job description when they were looking for M/E drivers. At the time it was difficult to cope with, and on an individual basis I would’nt have, but with a genuine group of fellow filthy dirty drivers around all supporting each other, I almost felt we had beaten the weather.
So on with the tale.
Taffy woke me with a beaker of tea about midday. Everone was still ticking over he said and that he’d had a hell of a job getting into the trailer box to get more tins of food out and those he had got out were frozen solid, could’nt get the tin opener to pierce the tins of mince properly, so had to stand them in pan of boiling water to defrost them first !!
The weather had cleared quite a bit, in that the snow had stopped, the bitterly cold north wind had eased down considerably, and the overcast seemed to be lifting.
Then about an hour later we were shocked when a guy stumbled into the garage in a bit of distress. We got him into the Brummie’s cab where me and Taff were sitting, the poor guy was frozen. He was in a bit of a panic as his mate was up the road in his cab which had stopped running early last night. The guy who had struggled back to us was if I remember, called Albert and worked for a Welsh company, in fact they both did, and according to Albert his mate was in a bad way and desperate for help.
Albert said they had come past the garage an hour or so before we had arrived there two days previously and had decided to press on for a while. It seemed they had only gone about a half a mile when they were forced to pull over to the side of the road, I think he said that his trailer brakes were freezing on. Anyway they had filled the alcohol bottles and by the time the brakes had come off it was getting late so decided to sit it out overnight. In fact they had seen the Grader who had stopped to see if they were ok. They had said ok because at the time all was ok. Obviously they were as shocked as we were by the severity of the weather.
Albert said they were parked one behind the other and he was’nt aware of his mates engine stalling until he came back to tell him. Albert had told him to stay in his cab with him, but his mate had said that his gas bottle was on and keeping the cold out and he did’nt want to leave it in case something went wrong, so had gone back to his cab. This morning Albert had got up, his wagon was still running, and scrambled forward through the snow to see how his mate had got on. Luckily his mate had’nt locked the door because as soon as Albert opened it he knew something was seriously wrong.
The gas cooker was’nt on and his mate looked as if he was in a semi stupor and not very coherent when Albert asked him how he was. ‘I then got very panicky’ said Albert and realised without help he might not last the day. ’ I managed to get my cooker up to his cab and light it, and my idea was to try and drop my unit and come back here’. ‘Of course I was parked right up behind my mates trailer, and with the amount of snow that had fallen I could’nt reverse’. ‘I knew where the garage was and decided to try to get back here to see if there was anyone here prepared to help, I wish we’d stopped here ourselves now’.
While this conversation was going on there was a discussion as to how we could help. According to Albert the snow depth was variable. Once the sky had lifted, It had taken him over an hour to make his way to us, and luckily from where they had parked he could just about see the garage in the distance.
It was decided I would drop my trailer and we would have a go at getting to Albert’s mates truck and bringing him back to the garage. By now, though still extremely cold the weather had improved and a weak sun was showing. We decided four of us would go with Albert and shovels. We chained up all four wheels. Luckily the road, not that we could see it, back to Albert’s wagon was virtually straight. Having got the chains on, me, the French guy, Brummie, Albert, and one of the Rumo’s pulled the pin with great difficulty and pulled out. Two of the lads stood on the door steps holding onto the mirror arms, and we made very slow progress in crawler out onto the road, a couple of the Romanians had already been out with their shovels to find the road and had in fact shovelled two ten foot long tracks to give us a direction.
Once out onto the road we could see the outline of Albert’s two trucks up in the distance. We made slow progress. The snow varied between 2 and 4 feet deep and once or twice had to back up and take a run at a deeper drift, run is a bit of an misnomer, but we had to reverse and have a little go to breach the larger drifts, but eventually with the help of the guys with their shovels we reached the vehicles. We all clambered out and when Albert opened the door was pleased to see the gas cooker still burning, and the cab getting warmer. Albert turned it off and his mate though still very much out of it and shivering intermittantly had’nt apperently got any worse, but was’nt up to much in the way of doing anything to help himself, could have been in the early stages of hypothermia, don’t know.
Between us we managed to manhandle him into my cab, and I must admit he did’nt look to sharp, and could’nt talk without uncontrollable shivering. We had a bit of fun and games trying to turn the unit round, but eventually we did and followed our tracks back to the garage in a much quicker fashion. Saul had made up some sort of soup concoction which he gave to the guy ( my memory for names is so crap, it spoils it) and the decision was to let him sleep in my cab that night and I doubled up with Taff in his top bunk. Albert stayed in my cab with him and by the morning he was greatly improved though still very ashen looking.
That night had’nt been as cold though most probably still -20 or so and it seemed as if the Turkish garage man’s forecast was going to be correct. Albert had left his truck running back up the road, It was going to be difficult enough to start his mates truck after two or more days of freezing up without Alberts as well. That night we all felt much better about the situation and even managed to defrost a few Efes from the trailer and have a sort of celebratory drink, mind you defrosted beer is gross and flat, still we did’nt really care.
The following morning broke bright and clear and the storm was over, and by 10am the grader had arrived and dropped off Pumpman. The temperature was still -10 or more but it would soon be time to think about making a move. Firstly though we would have to get Alberts mate started, that would be fun and games and another story.
Alberts mate recovered and I met Albert on a number of occasions in the future and had a reminisce.
The Romanians were a life saver and I cannot thank them enough for their help and knowledge. They were never the fastest guys on the road even when they eventually got their Roman’s, a MAN by any other name, but I always found them to be generous with.their help, and certainly during this extreme experience their assistance was invaluable.
PROWLANDS
SENIOR MEMBER
Posts: 158
Joined: Sun Aug 10, 2008 6:50 am
Could that Volvo F88 be one of Alan Dayson’s motors from Carlisle, at 1 min 05 secs.
youtube.com/watch?v=7pa6VTG1P4A
This video gets better as it goes along.
youtube.com/watch?v=jtPkH6-1OQg
These Thor from Stoke on Trent photos, were taken by Phil Bunch R.I.P.
I venture to say that that is the best one yet, MRM, made me shiver just reading it. Nowadays in all weathers I sleep with a window open and now and then praise whoever invented the duvet. Back then sleeping bags were the norm and they were never up to modern standards of heat retention. And retention is the key, I never wear anything in bed and the natural heat loss from the body heats up the gap between it and the duvet, tight clothes work against that principle. But, I have never experienced minus 30 I think, so wonder how I would fare. Not intending to test it though, that will have to wait for the next life. 
Nice to see the co-operation between fellow sufferers. I have experienced that from time to time, stranded by floods etc. so recognise the vital advantage of working together for survival.
After writing the above I did remember a similar, but nowhere near the same, experience. In my 2nd life as a dog transporter I was tasked to collect a cat from near Figeac to deliver to London. The plan was to overnight at The Drome, a routier next to a small airfield near Livernon, to the west of the town, and collect the cat the next morning.
I arrived early evening at the resto swaythed in freezing fog. The fog perisisted all night long while I tried to sleep in the Teardrop caravan I used to tow everywhere with me. The thin fibreglass skin, although lined with fabric did nothing to keep the cold out and I lay on a foam mattress with a double duvet underneath me and wrapped over the top. Even then I couldn’t shake the cold. I tried burying my head to allow my breath to provide heat, but you can’t do that for long while breathing in the carbon dioxide exhaled. My face was freezing when out of the cover so I took it out and back in all night.
I was genuinely surprised to survive the night, still bone achingly frozen in the morning, and as quick as I could I was into the warmth of the resto for coffee and a hot shower. Once back in the car I still battled the fog and was again rewarded with a hot drink at the home of the man who was soon to be relocated to his homeland.
The rest of the trip, to Dieppe and beyond was without incident but when I got home I decided on 3 things. To have a heater run on gas with an exhaust to the outside installed, to take an extra double duvet with me in future, this to be doubled and placed on top thus making 3 layers over and one under, and a loose knit woolly hat made by a grateful resident for my wife when she worked in a care home, for my head. And I do mean head, pulled right down to my neck all around it kept the freezing air from my face while still allowing me to breath through it.
I did not shed these precautions, even after the heater was fitted for, although I made sure it was propane, you can never be quite sure that something won’t go wrong mechanically when you most need it.
Never been cold in bed on the road since.
This is the beast, with the first 2 of 5 Peterbilt marker lights fitted. I did not intend to be run into from behind. Later also I had 2 white spots fitted at the rear making reversing in dark places a piece of cake and, bearing in mind that freezing fog, to rear fogs as well. the indpendent battery in the caravan was replenished from the car as I was driving along.
A top of the range sleeping bag was worth its weight in gold during the winter months, especially if you were parked up somewhere in The Balkans.
I bought a Blacks Icelandic special sleeping bag back in 1975, which was Duck down filled along with two cotton sleeping bag inners. I had it for over twelve years, along with three or four much cheaper zipped Nylon sleeping bags, which I used in the summer. I always thought that it was important to ‘air’ your sleeping bag often, by throwing it over an open door for five minutes or more.
EDIT. SUNDAY 19 NOVEMBER.
After a bit of Googling, I came across this.
Something for the week end from Spain and Italy.
Postby Jonah 1 » Wed Jan 28, 2009 3:33 am
I remeber running the “blockade” in the early 90’s.
I used to stop at Benidorm sometimes and I used a fella who owned a cafe there to do tranlations for me over the phone if I couldn’t figure out what people were on about,anyway I flew out to Malaga as one of our drivers missus had been blue lighted into hospital.
Before I flew out I rang the cafe to get the latest on the blokade and he said it was clear as the strike had finished.I flew out and hired a car and met the truck near Gibralta just off a new motorway they were building.We made our way back to Malaga and dropped off the driver at the airport there was another driver (boss’s nephew if I remember right) on his first trip with him.I rang the cafe again and he said that it was definately clear the strike had been over for a couple of days.
So the other driver and myself head north fill up near Burgos and head on,when we left the filling station a sierra estate pulled on the motorway in front of us and carried on at the same speed, I didn’t think much of it at the time but it turns out he is key to this event.
I pulled onto the single track section of road at Bilbao and as I rounded the bend with the traffic lights and bridge on the apex I saw two coppers in red uniforms looking very pale and around 50 protesters.The coppers were frantically waving me through the red light and the protesters were shouting and waving their fists.
I turned to the other driver and said
“f… me that was close”
just as I was going round the right hand bend as soon as we were out of sight of the coppers the sierra estate slammed his brakes on in front of me and the motor was surrounded by blokes lobbing stones at the motor.I just dropped it a couple of cogs hit the horn and gas at the same time swereved round the sierra and basically shut my eyes.
They smashed every bit of glass on the motor plus a few dents in the doors but I got through without any injuriesother the a little peppering fron the glass cubes, the other driver had a cut on the side of his head where a rock hit him.
theres another instalment to this which I’ll put up later as I’ve gone on a bit and I’ve got to go out now
Re: Some time to spare in IRUN.
Postby Ex Haulier » Wed Feb 04, 2009 5:38 am
On about my third trip down there in what must of been the late eighties, i was running down with a bunch of lads pulling for companies out of Poole. Amongst them was a big lad called Terry who i think came from the Isle of Wight. He was a big guy and had a bit of a stutter, great bloke though. About 10 k’s from Irun we hit the back of a queue. It turned out the customs were on strike and nothing was going to move that day. After managing to get on the hard shoulder we got a lift down to the border, after sussing out what was going on we started having a few drinks, and then a few more. Around midnight or so we were in the town and by this time there must of been twenty of us. I was never quite sure what started it but i understand someone pulled a knife. Big Terry didn’t hesitate, he hit the bloke, and his nose went everywhere. We never really thought any more of it until we walked out of the bar and found about 20 guardia civil waiting outside. We were all put in a couple of vans and taken to what i think were there barracks, it was certainly a very odd police station. We were all made to assume what these days is called a stress position, on tip toe and with your fingertips against the wall. Being a mouthy little git i came down off tip toes and said something along the lines of, sod this. I immediatley got about half a dozen wacks from rubber batons that they have, it hurt. To cut a long story short we were all fined the equivalent of about forty quid and let out the next morning. Then we had the nightmare of getting back to the trucks 10 k’s away. Great memory, something i will never forget and a really sound bunch of blokes wish i knew who they all were.
Last edited by Ex Haulier on Wed Feb 04, 2009 6:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Some time to spare in IRUN.
Postby harry » Wed Feb 04, 2009 6:06 am
If you wanted fun n’ games the Poole crowd never disappointed ; One night running home in France one of the Poole drivers let his mate who had taken a trip with him have a go in the car park at driving the truck .Somehow the bloke turned the truck on its side ,full of tv’s. They lost the contract after that. You are right ,they were absolutely hilarious. LOL If you wanted trouble just hang around with that crowd. Green Scanias.
FLYING FERRARI - ARCADE MOTORS
Postby Cockney Mark » Sun Jul 27, 2008 10:15 pm
Anyone doing Continental in the 80’s and 90’s would have known Arcade. Blue and White wagons of various guises and styles with the prime objective of delivering Rolls Royce, Bentley, Aston Martin, Lotus, Marcos, TVR throughout Europe. Return loads were the cars of RAC Members or other breakdown organisations that may have crashed, broken down, died, been arrested or some other spurious reason. We also did “undercover” car transport for prototypes, research cars, royal or VIP cars.
The job was good, the pay was “flexible plus” for those that understand the destinations were often great but the trucks were usually crap. Today there is an antiseptic outfit called On Time but the fun drivers have long gone.
I recall a trip back in about 1997. I left my trailer behind and went out to Athens via Ancona with an Aston Martin DB9 for the dealer. Holiday time so a good night on the Superferry, great Souvlaki and Chips at Corinth and into Harry’s for a long weekend.
After delivering the Aston I had to collect a “Topogigio” Fiat convertible from a multi storey in the centre of Athens for a UK collector. Then I had to go to Glyfsada, near the airport and find a little agriculturalgarage that had a gleaming red Ferrari Testarossa with the engine in bits. The story goes that some Sheik from Kensington had the car sent out by DHL for his holiday, blew the engine and these locals tried to fix it but lost their way. I don’t remember exactly why but the return involved a few more days at Harrys and a weekend at Ancona. A weekend I spent smashed to pieces witha Norman Marshall driver!
Monday morning I set off for Rimini to collect a Lotus Europa. Gleaming red Testarossa sitting proudly above the cab with its !A registration showing to all.
Ther throttle linkage on my trusty MAN went haywire and I limped to the services above Rimini with an appointment at MAN Nice the next day. I got up on top of my truck and manhandled the Testarossa back behing the part of the transporter body that needed lifting to tilt the cab. It was hot work and I was [zb] after pushing the car back and glad to get in the shower.
Next morning I rolled out of the services down the hairpins towards Rimini. The Bouganvillea trees stood out so I sat in the middle of the quiet road driving slowly down. Suddenly a little Fiat came flying round a bend in front of me swerved to miss me and disappeared up the hill. I hit the brakes.
Yes, this was the moment that I remembered the straps…the sunroof flexed, snapped and hit the road as the Testarossa rumbled down the deck, hit the little front bars and flew “James Bond” styley through the air landing on the road in front of me witha very expensive sounding nasty thud.
The beautiful magnesium alloy wheels had taken on a jaunty angle and nothing appeared quite right on every part of the car. Inevitably the Carabineri arrived, looked, laughed ,looked again and the bossman walked up to me, made a “phone to the ear” gesture and asked “Capo”.
So if you’ve ever heard that story and thought it was just another bit of folklore then you’d be wrong cos I was that driver and it did happen!
Happy days!
Wanna ride in my truck darlin?
Cockney Mark
Cockney Mark
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I don’t know why Cockney Mark’s post reminded me of this.
I don’t know why Cockney Mark’s post reminded me of this.
You’re right MRM, absolutely classic, both intro and eventual film. I have never wanted to see the American remake, and never will.
I know exactly what you mean David.
I watched the original version of ‘Get Carter’ last weekend and it’s still I.M.H.O. one of the best films ever made.
youtube.com/watch?v=H40V_fLIha0
After watching this trailer for the remake of Get Carter, then I think that I will give this one a miss. 
It was good to see that Gavin had logged on here last week.
Zakho Border
Postby GS OVERLAND » Sat Jul 19, 2008 2:39 pm
During the time that I used to transit Iraq en-route to Doha and destinations further south, I could never understand the need for what looked like a fish tank which was full of drivers blood!! at the passport control inside the border at Zakho.
After fighting your way through the Turkish side which normally took nearly all night, and bunging the Jandarma at the bridge, to allow you to cross the bridge,because by now your defences were so low and you just wanted to get across,( when you looked down to the left you could see the Tonkas going through the river and up the other side)and finally getting into the Iraqi side, you would immedeatly notice the change of pace and the fun would really start.You would park your truck and walk across the bombsite border, to the desk where your TIR Carnet would be converted to an Arab Manifest and the fellow in charge would proceed to relieve you of loads of Dinar.he liked Old Holborn so a few pouches would be slipped in between the pages of the Carnet to ease the process.
Once your papers were in, and you were told to come back later today " Inshallah" you would go to do your passport.
It was like going to the post office, a long counter top with glass partition. Behind the glass partition, there was a great big glass “fish” tank almost full of blood!!!
The Turks in front of you would all be dissappearing one by one, behind a curtain, only to return a few minutes later holding a bit of tissue over a small spot of blood where some official had just taken a sample of Abi’s blood.
I used to slip some money in the Iraqi double Transit visa page of my passport. So as to ensure that I did not have to venture behind the " curtain"
“Aidis Kontrol” was what the Turks used to say, but why the " fishtank" full of blood■■?
Can anyone shed some light on this Middle-East mystery.
Then coming home, you finally got over the mountain and into the hellious queue to the border,normally late afternoon and a customs gaurd would dip your tanks and if you had to much diesel, you had to divert off the road and into this yard crammed full of trucks, all having been sent to have the excess diesel pumped out!! Some times a bag of bananas would save you, or some pillows !!!work that out…
Well if you havn’t been there, you wouldn’t believe it. You are in amongst all these trucks, Turks, Bulgy’s, Yugos, Hungarians, all waiting, edging forward when you could, to these old electric operated pumps, with exposed wires,and the guard would open your tank and assess the amount of diesel that you had! Then once they had decided how much " extra" you had, they would insert a pipe into the tank and flick the switch and this old pump would rattle into action.The diesel would start to dissappear out of you tanks and up through an old piece of boiler pipe, which turned downwards into a great big tank, with a hole about 2 ft in diameter burned into the top with oxy/acetelyn, and a guage which was a clear tube on the side of the tank where the guard would tell you the level that your pumped out litres would reach to…
This process could take all night, or all day depending upon what time you reached there.
One trip a guy dressed in combat greens and wearing the obligatory red and white checked jalaba head scarf, nocked on my door. It was about 2am and I was fighting sleep in case I missed my turn. I opened my door to see what the fellah wanted, and as I opened the door, he grabbed my nice light tan pigskin boots that I bought in the Londra shop, and he ran off into the shadows.
I was really ■■■■■■ off at losing my boots and I jumped out to chase after him. He stopped short and goaded me to come after him, but I stayed put, knowing that if I left my truck his mates would rifle the cab.
Lesson learnt…don’t open the door to strangers!
It used to take four days to get through sometimes, and that was after jumping 20 or 30k’s of queue…
Then the invasion of Kuwait stopped us ever transiting Iraq again.
GS
GS OVERLAND
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DIESEL MOUNTAIN, IRAQ. So called because of the thousands of gallons of spilt oil from overloaded Turkish tankers exiting Iraq.
ZACHO BORDER, IRAQ.
mushroomman:
I know exactly what you mean David.
I watched the original version of ‘Get Carter’ last weekend and it’s still I.M.H.O. one of the best films ever made.youtube.com/watch?v=H40V_fLIha0
After watching this trailer for the remake of Get Carter, then I think that I will give this one a miss.
I agree entirely, though I was disappointed to see Caine was in that too. But I suppose, as he once said, ‘I’ve made some terrible films, but they all paid the mortgage’.
BTW, regarding the carry on at the Iraq border, maybe it was a truck driver thing but with us and a bus full of young people they couldn’t have been nicer. No problems no delays, and no baksheesh. In fact the border guards invited us to spend the night parked in their compound ‘because of bandits’, and we did so in perfect tranquillity and nothing demanded in return.
That was called Kermanshah I think but I see now that that is the first city inside Iran. The direct route from Baghdad to Tehran. This would be in 1966 or 7 I reckon, so well before the big rush started with wagons and before they realised how much money they could make.
It sounds like Tim is working for a real ‘cowboy company’ Buzzer. I can’t wait for the next thrilling installment.
Wasn’t there a ■■■■■■■ Trucknet many years ago who emigrated to ‘Rocky’ and hoped to get a job on cattle trucks. I sometimes wonder how it all turned out for her.
One for Western ‘Star Down Under’.
Do they call KWs Kennies in Oz then MRM, haven’t heard it before?
I heard the name on a few occasions over the years David, maybe S.D.U. has heard it although he is a Western Star man.
Yeah, Kenny, Kay Dub, Kenworth or more often @×#$/^&.
From a few years ago.
Buzzer:
Saw this so posted, Buzzer
“YOU CAN’T LEAVE IT THERE DRIVER”. 
Come on Buzzer, don’t you know that there are still a few of us left who are interested in tales about Antipodean, female, hitch hikers. 
Re: Astran / Middle East Drivers.
Postby geoffthecrowtaylor » Fri Dec 14, 2012 11:31 pm
Fred, we are way off any nitty gritty but we l will start now and Jazzandy and Chris Arbon, I completely get your point now that writing a literary masterpiece is far more difficult than at first glance.
What shall we call it, A Brief Sojourn in The Life of an International Truck Driver, no, better How to Further Anzac British Relations without Really Trying.
It was the dark of the moon, way past June and we weren’t hauling pigs, six 2nd hand Massey Fergies nestled snuggly in our rigs. With apologies to Kris Kristofferson and later DLT who parodied this classic far worse than me, Rubber Duck indeed but we did have us a convoy.
Tony and me had loaded 6 second hand tractors each from various dealers mainly up North and we were due to meet the co/owner George Hart somewhere on the A1 it was late September 1984.
Now George, whose Turkish partner Candamir Tufan, John to his mates, had acquired an ex Sperry Rand Ford Transcontinetal, PPR 980 R, a 335E ■■■■■■■ 9 speed Fuller gearbox and a double deck step frame trailer, the top deck being detachable.
It had been designed to carry balers so didn’t carry much weight, the tractor had a Hiab mounted crane behind the cab for self un loading, a very neat and in those days rare piece of kit.
The complete rig later came to us and the trailer Steve, is the very same one used to recover the Middle East Minerals Scania buts that’s another story.
After an un eventful run thru France and Italy we entered Yugo at Fernetti/Sezana and then on to the Nacional Hotel in Belgrade. The Autocesta in those days started at the Peage at the bottom of the big hill south of Belgrade and several hours later weve done the Peage at Nis and off we go.
We are going to use the Ipsala border, between Greece and Turkey, Kapikule has too much traffic now and too many delays. We’re trundling down the highway through Yugoslavia and it’s not far off dark when George suddenly pulled into a parking place on the left. We follow in and ask what’s the matter.
I’m losing a tractor he said and he’s running with the top deck up, the greedy get has loaded 8 tractors and the very first one is hanging half off. We struggle the sod back into place and chain it properly. He drove like a lunatic no wonder he nearly lost it.
We’ve all done this route and not far after Kumanovo in the Skopje area is a services and it’s beginning to ■■■■ down so we all agree to park there for the night. Bloody Hell 2 fried eggs and chips washed down with Skopsko pivo beautiful.
Just to digress for a moment, the cabs had all been cut off the tractors, the Turks didn’t want them and because of an age restriction, all the chassis numbers had been ground off and restamped and George had got Christ knows where from, new I.D. plates which had a year code stamped on and chassis numbers.
George, the tricky get knew it all and you Saviem will know this being a farmer, they wanted heavy cast wheels not pressed steel and wafer weights which are mounted forward of the front axle to give more stability.
The following morning as if by magic, the skies have cleared and its a beautiful day. During our evening dinner we’ve discussed where we are going to stay the next night and we decide on Asprovalta in Greece. Kavala Beach had gone to the dogs the old man having retired and his poxy anti truck son had taken over. Off we go, George first then Tony and me last as usual. They’re both out of sight but no matter I know where I’m going and I’ve got a comprehensive tool kit.
Sometime before Gevgelia I spot a water trail on the road and thought someone’s got a water leak. Sure enough round the next bend Tony’s Volvo is parked on the side, I stopped, no sign of George and no CBs. Turns out it’s the water feed to the oil cooler and its ruptured, I said I’ve had enough now, sort that out.
Well despite carrying a fair range of spares oil cooler rubber hoses is not one of them. We’re in the middle of nowhere and thank Christ the low level coolant red light hasn’t come on. It was essential that you kept these working otherwise over heated seized engine resulted. It took us over 2 hours to fix this. The solution being a length of hose off my belly tank feed. The diameter was smaller than the oil cooler connections but after much cajoling, pushing swearing and washing up liquid, Eureka.
Next problem not enough water, the cooling system on those 12 litre motors held nigh on 10 gallons, we had about 3 between us. We coaxed Tony’s motor slowly forward until we came across a farm and the day was saved. Up to Bogorodica/ Evzoni, the Yugo/Greek border, no sign of George, ■■■■■■■■ he’s not waited. Eff him into Polykastro Texaco garage, diesel, shower, trough.
Those of you who know the route up to the Thessalonika turn off, skirt the town and then off in the direction of Turkey. Asprovalta is about an hour away from Salonica. We pull in there and there is no sign of George, we’re staying here we will catch him up somewhere.
Sure enough the following day, we see him parked up at the BP garage as you leave Kavala. I pull in behind him and Tony goes to the other side of the road. Now what, the front near side wheel bearing is grumbling he says. We jack it up, wheel off, knock the threaded cap off and examine. Sure enough the outer bearing is like a biscuit its bolloxed the bearing and track.
Have you got one I said, I don t know he replied, if I haven’t there will be someone round here that has, don’t forget the Greeks run a lot of Volvo 88s and 89s with the same front axle. I leave him to it, it’s only a one man job, knock the old track out, use it to knock the new one in. I slip across to the boozer and give George and his co driver Dennis a Bollocking, every excuse under the sun none of them plausible. Wait for it Fred.
Suddenly as if the stage curtain had lifted, these two visions of loveliness floated in from the back room. It was almost as if the sun had been eclipsed by the superb twin moons of the leader. Not knowing their Nationality and fighting for breath I croaked in English, you’re going the wrong way girls. Bingo, they answer in our God given tongue, what do you mean, they said, where are you going.
We’re going to Istanbul I managed to say. We’ve just come from there, they said and they proceeded to tell us about their Visa problems. The Adrenaline has kicked in now and I told them what we were doing and that our route home was via Italy, France and that truly not many trucks went that way.
Does that mean that we can come with you, the one with Two Moons breathed. It certainly does I said. We introduced ourselves and discover she is Aussie and her mate with the sylph like figure is a Kiwi.
Now despite what Tony says I didn’t have a 2 headed coin and it was no doubt due to my animal. magnetic personality not to mention charisma that Nicky the Kiwi made a beeline for me.
Tony turns up moments later, hands covered in grease and is informed of the turn of events. His eyes standing out like organ stops were rivetted on Kim’s upper body and didn’t offer any complaints. She’s your co driver Tony her names Kim, alright.
Re: Astran / Middle East Drivers.
Postby geoffthecrowtaylor » Tue Dec 18, 2012 11:55 pm
The beginning of the end.
So, now with sleeping quarters arranged we’re staying in Kavala that night. George decides he wants to visit a Brothel you must be joking I said, not a bit of it he’s serious. So we go trooping round the town with the 2 girls in tow. After questioning many locals, he finds one.
Right George we’ll wait here for you. I am not going in on my own he said and pushes me up the stairs. It was like a Drs waiting room with half a dozen clients waiting. A door opened and a woman came out clad in a dressing gown. I will fit you in as soon as I can, she said. I said to George, are you really going to wait and he said no way lets offski and we did. The two girls were highly amused by this.
The next 4 days go like this. Transcon breaks down just outside Alexandropolous with fuel problems. As any ■■■■■■■ man will tell you there are no high pressure fuel lines, the injectors do all the work that’s why there are 3 pushrods per cylinder. The fuel pump is just a glorified lift pump. A shaft has sheared, George goes off to get it welded and is gone for hours.
We have a night out in Ipsala at the border with all the associated problems. The next day not far from Silivri, the alternator on the Transcon is not charging, it’s dark and his lights are going up and down like a whores drawers. We limp it into Mocamp in Istanbul, the bars shut with no Efes beer left.
The following day the girls have gone to meet some friends and they are told to be back in two days. We’re taken to dinner by Candimir.
Two days later we’re tipped and with Bos papers in hand we’re off, thru Ipsala and into Greece with not much delay and run up to Polykastro.
We have a night out and the following day Saturday, just opposite the Motel near Nis in Yugoslavia where there are road works, a Jughead clouts a home bound Greek fridge tearing the side out, which means more delays. It gets so late that by the time we reach the Belgrade peage the weekend driving ban is in force.
We’re stuck here for 3 hours and we are late into the National Hotel. There’s a good crew there, Richie Thorne say’s no steak tonight. Now old George is in charge and when he sees the 2 girls, steak is back on the menu. This is the George who featured in one of Commercial Motors accounts, re Whittle International.
Now as you know the Nacional shuts early but not tonight George is enraptured by Kim and is dancing with her. Tony has effed off to bed and so has Nicky leaving me IC.
Let’s paraphrase now, Sunday up to Fernetti parked up at the border and we can’t drive until 10pm.Tony is going to Prato in Italy, me to Milano not Verona, he carried on and I parked up at Scaligera .
Monday, 3 pickups of new furniture for Pegasus Stoke on Trent. It’s a light load, I’m going home Swiss. Night out Ponte Chiasso with dinner in Johnies just up the road. Cleared in the morning by Lorenzonis and away, pay Swiss rod tax and off away thru St Gotthard Tunnel, Basle, St Louis, up thru France and just after Dudelange park up in Belgium for the night.
The next afternoon we are in Zeebrugge and trip over Stanley Wombold. Ship across, ferry didn’t capsize, papers in, then into the East Cliffs Hotel for a gargle. Stanley has no money left, what’s new so I’m paying for the 3 of us, no matter we’ve been weighed in at Istanbul so no shortage of funds.
Next day we are late leaving Dover because of an occurrence that kept me up half the night, discretion comes into play here and to cap it all we get a pull at that weighbridge just after Husks yard.
Off we go and I’m going to drop Nicky off in London. Thru Blackwall and further up going towards Archway is a Tube station on the left with a bus pull in right next to it. Nicky climbs over the engine hump and slides down me to the deck. I don t want to go she says, arms round me and a big kiss, tumultuous round of applause from the crowd waiting for the bus. I never did see her again.
Epilogue.
A week later I ve got 6 second hand tractors snuggled down again. Just as i m about to leave home the letter box clicked and it s an envelope with a card from the girls, a 10 pound note was clipped to the card. Nicky had borrowed a tenner to buy her charges a small gift, I hadn’t expected to see it again.
I wasn’t married at the time and my wife to be Susan wrote to Nicky for the next year or so get that eh.
Nicky if by some strange quirk of fate you read this, Susan and I were married in 1985 and produced 2 children Harriet our daughter and Joe our son.
Tragically Susan was taken from us 2 weeks short of our 25th wedding anniversary. She lost a 4 and half year battle against the dreaded big C.
You’ll be in your 50s now and possibly a grandma. Your maiden name was Withrington and you have photos of Tony and me, we sadly have none of you and Kim.
If someone in NZ knows you and you do get chance to read this I wish you all the best and I still think from time to time of that epic journey.
Like most people from down under you can’t pronounce Geoff and you called me Jiff.
Regards and best wishes to all. Geoff the Crow TAYLOR.
Re: Astran / Middle East Drivers.
Postby Tony Taylor » Thu Dec 20, 2012 12:53 am
Tony Taylor wrote:
5thwheel wrote:
Bit tame that Crow,…Tony’s version is…!!!
David
I’ll write mine shortly I suppose. (how did we get talked into this??)
That’s typical of the Crow,I told you he wouldn’t be bothered to tell a proper story.It’s so long ago I can’t recall all the details,however,now that I’ve been railroaded into it I’ll do my best.When we left Kavalla and George broke down at Alexandopolus and went to get the fuel pump shaft repaired we went on to Ipsala.Kimberley never stopped talking,I can’t remember what about,life down under I suppose,I just switched off and let the sound drone on.At the border we did the papers and waited for George.While we were wating we decided to make a ‘camion stew’,just then up rolls an Italian who parked near us.He took one look at the girls and decided he wanted to stay for dinner.This eyetie was a bit of a lad he said he would make some coffee,he had one of those percolators you see everywhere, silver colour and the base unscrewed so you can put the water in.Well,this guy made the coffee with half water,half grappa and then poured half a cup of grappa into half a cup of coffee and loaded it with sugar,we drank several cups of this brew.The rest of the bottle of grappa went into the ‘stew’.I think he was trying to get us(or maybe the girls) ■■■■■■■■■■■■■ hadn’t reckoned on the capacity of Manchester lads and we only got half ■■■■■■ and the same with the girls.The eyetie on the other hand was 3 sheets to wind and therefore out of the game.I remember the Turkish border workers and the police taking a close interest in the 2 scantily clad females and they got quite a lot of unwanted attention.We decided we would stay there for the night and that’s where the 1st problem began.I had 2 bunks in the 89 but the top one was always full of gear and I wasn’t going to move it into the trailer box.In any case even if Kim could have(which I doubt) got onto the top bunk,if she layed on her back,her ■■■■ would have dented the cab roof.So,it was decided we both sleep downstairs.She was not in the least bit shy and just took her ‘t’ shirt off,she wasn’t wearing a bra and the twin orbs were swinging gently to her movements.I thought I was in for a treat,but had my thoughts dashed when she said firmly “no ■■■” tonight and as I am a gentleman and not a ■■■■■■,I had to content myself with just looking.Trying to sleep 2 in a bed is not easy in an 89 and Kim was a big girl and the only way we could do it and get some sleep was top to tail,the other way was too frustrating for me and impractical as well.Ah well !! maybe better luck in Istanbul.
Tony Taylor
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Re: Astran / Middle East Drivers.
Postby Tony Taylor » Fri Jan 18, 2013 10:59 pm
geoffthecrowtaylor wrote:
Not bad Steve what with your tank and our Tony’s it looks like the only thing true about the Cold War was the weather. Incidentally we re all still waiting for our Tony s second stanza, what s up kiddo Alzheimer got a grip of you, regards to all, Crow.
I didn’t write any more on the Kim saga Geoff because 1) I don’t think it’s all that interesting. 2) I can’t remember everything that happened acurately and 3) I’m not that good as a novelist. The upshot was that me and Kimberley didn’t get on all that well, all she seemed to do was talk incessently, she had a voracious appetite and ate everything in sight and she snored loud enough to wake the dead.
She was a chain smoker and never had one of my ciggies out of her mouth (she could talk, eat and smoke all at the same time).If had been up to me I would have said goodbye to her when we arrived at Istanbul. However Geoffey, because you wanted to make futher progress with nice Nicky I did the brotherly thing and kept her for your sake, and if you think clearly about this bruv, Nicky kept you on a string until you got to Dover, only then, when she was safe back in the UK did she succum to your magnetic charms. It would possibly have been the same with Kim, but before we had got back into Greece I had already deemed the price too high to continue pandering to her insatiable appetites in return for possible favours later on. When we got into Italy and you loaded from the north and I from Prato I saw my chance to get free. I couldn’t load that day and had to wait until the next day, she was anxious to meet up with Nicky again and so I gave her to an English driver who leaving that evening. I never saw her again nor did I want to. Here endeth the saga.
R.I.P. Geoff, gone but not forgotten.
GEORGE, THE WAITER AT THE NATIONAL HOTEL, BELGRADE, YUGOSLAVIA.
STAN WARMBOLD.
Luckily, I did manage to download a couple of Geoff and Tony’s photos that they posted here on Trucknet years ago.
I remember having a few good ‘nights out’ with the A1 Transport (Leeds) lads over the years, in places like The Hotel Wein in Budapest, Santhia and Carisio in Italy. The Bakehouse and The Algerian’s in France and at the Swiss border. So, I thought that it would be good idea to share a couple of their anecdotes.
Re: A1 transport,leeds
Postby keith 2 » Sat Aug 28, 2010 3:39 am
philberg182 wrote:
hi Phil,can you remember,going with Shaun on the cab job to France
Yes,how could i forget, it was no good trying to keep up with Shaun when it came to drinking, christ i felt crap . Tried to sleep it off with my head hanging out of the window untill Shaun put the window up trapping my head in it
When i think back, working for A1 was probably the happiest time of my life, we had some good fun with the stunts we used to pull. Can you imagine doing it now with all the Health and safety rubbish we have to put up with . Well i suppose it keeps someone in a job
Do you remember when we had all them spares upstairs above the workshop ■■? . Someone wanted a back spring for something and we couldnt be arsed carrying it downstairs , so we decided to lower it out of the window on a rope. Terry Bentley pipes up " ill be the anchor man " . so he wrapped the rope round his waist, i put the spring on the window ledge and Ken and Woody also had a hold of the rope. Trouble was i shoved it out of the window and them 2 let go. It was like a cartoon with the rope disappearing fast with Terry still tied to the other end, he shot across the room with his club foot and only just stopped at the window as the spring hit the deck.
I dont think i ever laughed as much, he burnt his hands trying to grab the rope. It was a good job the rope was long enough as nobody had thought of that.
We would have all been sacked now
Another one for you, One of the continental lads ( I`m not saying who it was but he goes on here ) gave me an aerosol can of mace which was, and probably still is illegal in this country. I waited while John Taylor went to the toilet and i snook in and sprayed it then shut the door. He came charging out in a big rage with his eyes watereing, he never did find out who did it
[/quote]
bloody hell Phil,the tail with the rope,i forgot about that one,but now remember it plain as day ,have been in stitches just reading it
keith 2
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Posts: 789
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Re: A1 transport,leeds
Postby ddrbsn » Thu Aug 26, 2010 7:29 am
philberg182 wrote:
Keith 2 if that dont jog your memory you did a spell at walkers with me, Richard , Ken, and Singh
Wasnt there a Singh at Bradford garage about 1970 ■■. I remember they wanted my unit for service there one night and as Id struggled to find an m/t trailer I asked if I could leave it attached.Sure I was told just stick them over one of the long pits and well have it ready for the morning. They asked if any problems I said none on unit but rear o/s indicator on trailer was blown, as the stores were shut I asked if theyd stick some bulbs in cab or if they got bored they could change it.I got the usual mouthful of banter as I left. Next morning rolled into garage before night shift had finished to find wires and connecter blocks hanging from trailer. I think it was Tony …(surname eludes me) came over to tell me they had had a right time trying to get indicater to work and they still hadnt succeded. Theres me thought it was just the bulb blown says I, what blown bulb says Tony, the one I asked them to change says I. The look on their faces when they realised what I was saying was priceless, apparently the handover just said there was an indicater problem on the trailer, I beat a hasty retreat and left them to greet dayshift when they arrived…
ddrbsn
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Posts: 123
Joined: Thu Feb 28, 2008 12:45 pm
Re: A1 transport,leeds
Postby DRY GINGER » Tue Apr 26, 2011 7:52 pm
Mostar Yugoslavia.
My next trip was to a far flung place I had never heard of. I had a trailer full of chemicals from I.C.I. in Huddersfield. When I collected my documents from the office, I was told that their were four of us making the trip but would be setting off at different times. One driver had already set off, namely, CATWEASEL, as he was known on the C.B.(John Taylor)
I set off down to Dover to catch the ferry to Calais. When I arrived at Dover and parked up the Truck, there was a great deal of paperwork to do at the customs house. This entailed standing in line with many other drivers.Some that had probably not washed for several days! My docs were in order and so the next thing to have done was to get my “PLOMBES” or seals, put on the security cable that goes all the way round the trailer.
After arriving at Calais and having a short rest, I set off.
Paris, Dijon. Macon, first overnight. The following day. Geneva, Chamonix, thought the Mont Blanc tunnel and into Italy. Aosta, second overnight.
Third day, across the top of Italy. Milan.Bergamo.Verona,Venice to Trieste and park up for some well earned sleep. Fourth day through a very small border at Klinca Selo into Yugoslavia.
The journey down the coast road of Yugo’ was very scary, to say the least. Very long, and very twisty and slippery surface. Not a lot of traffic, once I was south of Rijeka. But you certainly needed your wits about you. As you travelled along, you might see a vehicle a few hundred yards away across an inlet, but it could be as much as 10 minutes before you passed each other going in opposite directions.
I got as far as Sibenik and found a lovely place to park for the night right next to the Adriatic Sea. Went for a beer or two with lovely steak and chips. (£2-£3)
I set off, on the fifth day, following the coast road, through Split, Markarska, and down to the port of Ploce. Here, I turned inland, and drove north to the town of MOSTAR.
I arrived in the town centre, looking for the “Customs Office.” I pulled over into a Bus lay-by, (on the right hand side of the road) to ask the way. There was a very official looking man dressed in a uniform standing nearby, so he would be the one to ask, I thought. I asked him in my best German language, if he knew where the “Dogana” was? And surprise, surprise, he said “Zurruck drie undert meters” which meant that I had passed the place by 3 hundred meters. He then indicated to me that he would stop the traffic in order for me to do a “U” turn in the road. As I sit on the right hand side and was on the right side of the road, I knew I would lose sight of the left hand side of the trailer when manoeuvring. The policeman said to carry on, and as I was turning I could see the horrific expression on the face of a man standing on the opposite side of the road. I leaped out from the cab to see what the matter was, and lo and behold, there was a very small car that had all but disappeared under the trailer side protector bars!
The driver was not a happy bunny, and proceeded to tell me so in Croatian! I started to tell the policeman what an idiot he was, in English! And he stormed off to get his superior.
After extricating the car, the new policeman climbed into my cab and, with hand signals, guided me to the Customs Office.
Who should be already parked up, but another A.1 driver, CATWEASEL.
The police officer then tried all ways to get me to part with lots and lots of money, as bribery, to forget the accident!
As I refused point blank, he simply said “Passport” and told me to be at the local court house at 10.00am the coming Monday. And off he went, complete with my passport.
When my fellow driver, John, woke up, I told him of my predicament. He was as concerned as me because the ruling in Yugoslavia at that time was, “If, a foreigner has an accident in our country, he is automatically to blame because if he hadn’t come to our country, he wouldn’t have had an accident!”
So there I was, stuck in Mostar with a fully loaded trailer, and NO PASSPORT.
We both managed to clear customs without too many problems and went to find somewhere to park up for the night.
I found a lovely place just on the outskirts of the town with a large area to park and right next to a small restaurant.
We got changed and went to the restaurant intending to have something to eat and drink. As luck would have it, the manager , who we later learnt was called Radoslav Remetic, could speak German and as I could as well, we could communicate with each other. As the evening was still very hot he put us at a small table outside and next to his BEER COOLER! This was a 3’ X 2’ metal tray, about 8” deep and with water flowing in one end and out the other. It was filled with beer bottles! FULL ONES!
He told us to help ourselves and he would get us something to eat. This was too good to be true!
As the evening wore on, I told our host about my troubles. He said not to worry, He would sort out an interpreter for Monday.
I had to keep clearing the water outlet from the tank as it was getting clogged up with beer labels! We did our best to empty it, but got beaten by tiredness.
The cost for the whole evening, for the two of us, including the meal, was £5!!
The following morning, Friday, John and I said we would meet up back at the same ■■■■■■■■■■■■. So we set off find our various factories up in the Mountains.
John had told me that you would need your passport at the factory, in order to get unloaded which meant that I had another problem to sort out.
When I eventually found the chemical works, way up on a plateau, all by itself, I drove up to the gates.
It seems that ALL big industrial sites have to have guards. But what I hadn’t foreseen was to be approached by a military guy toting a bloody KALASHNIKOV!
He asked me for “PASS”, so I did the next best thing and gave him my
DRIVING LICENSE! He seemed happy with that, thank goodness.
I duly got unloaded and by late afternoon, got back to our parking area.
Who should be there, but “Notty” also from A.1.(Arthur Knott). He also had seen the open space and thought that it would be a good place to stay. A little later, Catweasel arrived.
Friday night, in the middle of Yugoslavia, and nowhere to go!
So naturally we walked to our FAVOURITE restaurant! The place was buzzing, only it was full of military army lads. It seemed that the garrison as just across the road. All three of us had a good time with lots of food and beer. Talked about this and that and “HOW FAST THEM TRUCKS CAN GO!” Then went to our respective trucks to sleep. The temperature was in the mid 90’s and too hot to sleep.
Saturday and Notty had to get off to unload his trailer somewhere. As this was Saturday and the sun was just rising, John and I had a lie in until 10.00. We each made a late breakfast for ourselves.
It was getting VERY VERY hot outside, so we went walkabout sightseeing MOSTAR. It was so hot that we had to get from one shady place to another quickly. There were Mosques, Minarets and churches everywhere. A great deal of gold and silver shops which had little copper doors, all brightly polished. And of course, the wonderful 13th centaury MOSTAR BRIDGE. This wonderful white marbled steeply curved bridge was absolutely amazing to behold. The river NERETVA was flowing swiftly under the bridge with its lovely bright green waters.
The afternoon was getting so hot that the only place was back at our own trucks where we could make ourselves a cup of tea.
It was too hot to sleep and we didn’t have AIRCON in those days, so tossed and turned until the sun went down.
Notty eventually turned up, so we walked to our favourite restaurant, the LIPOV PLAD.We had some wonderful Yugoslavian food with locally made wine, finished off with some more beers and Kirch liqueurs the whole lot coming to to not much more than £5 each. Naturally, we all slept well that night!
Sunday, am. Feeling a fair bit hung-over, but after a couple of coffees I was ok. I noticed that my two fellow drivers were stirring in their cabs and thought it best not to disturb them just yet.
Around mid-morning they joined me at the restaurant for some coffee. After some discussion it was decided that they should set off up the coast of Yugo, in order to get to the place of our reload, which was in KLAGENFURT, Austria.
After some light food, both Catweasel and Knotty set off up the road leaving me to face the music the following morning.
As I had already phoned the British Consulate in BELGRADE and got NO help from them in trying to get my passport back, there was not a lot that I could do. So I thought I would walk down to the MOSTAR POST OFFICE to see if I could phone my wife.
In those days there were no such things as MOBILE phones. And what you had to do was stand in a queue until a booth became available for you to use. This could take a very long time, as Sunday seemed to be the only time that the general public wanted to use a phone!
After what seemed like an eternity, I finally got through to my wife in England. She already knew of my predicament and was very understanding. I have to say that I broke down in tears with emotion. I have never felt so alone and helpless.
That evening, my new good friend, Radoslav, collected me in his car and we went down onto the centre of MOSTAR. He had decided that I needed cheering up!
He took us to a hotel which was the former house of the late PRESIDENT TITO. It was not very full but the waiters were very helpful and we had a lovely meal together. I remember Radoslav trying to persuade the waitress to join me later in the evening for fun and games
What with the following days court case worries, I had to decline the invitation!
Monday, 10.00am. Found me sitting at the top of a flight of stairs outside the court room waiting for an interpreter to arrive from YUGOTOURINTEX.
When he eventually arrived and put me at ease, he was most helpful. He told me what the procedure would be. He told me to say “YES” when he gave me the nod!
We entered this tiny room which had three HUGE women sitting behind a long desk. I could see my passport on the table in front of them much to my relief. A lot of jabbering went on until my interpreter gave me a nudge! I said “YES! A small piece of paper was passed, along with my passport, to my interpreter and that seemed to be that. He told me that the piece of paper was a fine that had to be paid at the post office straight away.
As Radoslav had gone off shopping for his wife he had left his son to chaperone me. So he went off to the p/o for me whilst I sat in the very hot noonday sun waiting.
When Zoran returned after paying my fine for me, which totalled £10!! I gave him some extra money for all their help. I was desperate to say good bye to Radoslav but couldn’t afford to wait for him to return.
So with a very sad heart, I departed MOSTAR and set course north, to AUSTRIA. The time was now, 1230pm. The sun was at its hottest and boy oh boy could I feel it! Don’t forget the trucks in those days did not have Air conditioning. I had both windows down and the roof vent open but it was still very hot in the cab.
I drove down south west to PLOCE on the coast, and turned north towards the Yugoslavian border with Austria.
SPLIT, SIBENIK, ZARDAR, all passed in a blur. I caught glimpses of holidaymakers sunbathing on the beaches as I drove through tourist spots and small villages.
Onwards and upwards, always heading north. Hour after hour, kilometer after kilometer.
KARLOBAG, RIJEKA, where the big oil industry is based, and then finally I turned off the coast road at OPATIJA and headed for LJUBLJANA.
The time was approaching midnight and the weather had turned very much colder. It had started to rain and I found it very difficult to drive on the wet and slippery roads especially as I was hauling an empty trailer.
0200am Tuesday. The border crossing with Austria. This small border post was at the entrance to a tunnel which went through into Austria. I had no problems with customs as I was “Leer,” or at the other end and finally entered Austria. The rain hadn’t stopped and I was very very tired. I was approaching the outskirts of KLAGENFURT, couldn’t find anyone to ask directions to where I wanted to be. All I wanted to do was find somewhere to pull in and lay my weary head down for a few hours.
I finally saw in my headlights what looked like a lay-by, so pulled in, parked up, and fell onto my bunk and was asleep in seconds.
The time was 0330 and I had been driving for almost 15 hours non-stop!
I awoke 4 hours later. Opened my curtains to a bright and sunny day and couldn’t believe my eyes.
There, approximately half a mile away, over to my right across a field, I could make out TWO, A ONE TRANSPORT trucks. I hurriedly got dressed and drove to the entrance to the factory to meet my two mates. They were as surprised to see me as I was with them. They had had to sit awaiting loading instructions from the agents for TWO WHOLE DAYS.
So. After all my heartache and troubles I had caught up with them and was now on schedule to reload and return to the UK.
DRY GINGER
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Joined: Fri Aug 13, 2010 12:38 am
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