An interesting story, thanks for re-posting it, as I never made Poland on my various wanderings and certainly not in its communist days.
I have also never been asked to do a charity run. I know the goods are donated but does the haulier get, perhaps a reduced, rate. Or is it for free and he makes it pay by a pre-arranged backload? Always interested me.
DIG:
mushroomman:
Star down under.:
Thanks David, most entertaining and very well written. I only wish I could write as creatively as you.
I have to agree with you Ian, Spardo makes you feel like you are sat in the cab with him, I wish that I could write like that.
MRM did you do Geikie gorge on the Fitzroy river as well? Dig
GEIKIE GORGE, WESTERN AUSTRALIA.
Hi Dig, yes, we did pay a visit to Geikie Gorge while we were over on the west coast. The Fitzroy was a bit low at the time after months of a drought and I think that your Crocs were looking for a good feed. 
I think that you posted a photo of the bridge over the Fitzroy River some time ago which brought back a few memories for me, so thanks for that. I have a feeling that the campsite where we stayed was not too far from that bridge.
We stayed there for three days and somebody asked us “had we seen The Bikies”. We had no idea what they meant, until they explained that every year, a lot of the motorbike groups around Perth would meet up and drive from Perth up to Darwin. I found this hard to believe as it must be a distance of over 4,000 kilometres, one way.
That afternoon, about half a dozen Police utes and trailers pulled onto the campsite and set up marquee’s, tents and they also had a barbecue trailer. We thought that was very good of them to look after ‘The Bikies’ but a few hours later another fifty or so policemen and women turned up and moved into the tents. The next night they even held a disco tech and after having an early breakfast on the Sunday morning they all disappeared.
We did see small groups of ‘Bikies’ heading north over the next couple of days so maybe you can answer this question for me.
Would ‘The Bikies’ have been travelling all the way up to Darwin with a police ■■■■■■ or can you add anything just to keep this thread ticking over.
As regards Spardo’s question, I have no idea what the agreement would have been with the charities, but I do remember that when the Iron Curtain came down, Anneka Rice did a television series called ‘Challenge Anneka’.
They were rebuilding an orphanage/ hospital somewhere in Romania and were asking for donations of building materials, beds, medical equipment and transport. I must admit that I never saw the programme as I was probably overnighting somewhere down the road but I did hear that there were lots of shots of the companies who supplied the trucks.
Maybe somebody on here knows which transport companies got involved with the challenge or they may even have some photos of the trip.
GEIKI GORGE, WESTERN AUSTRALIA.
Many thanks to Mushroomman for plugging the book, Roadtrip Ramatuelle. I could do with a big fat royalty cheque as I’m touring Australia this Winter and things are a lot more expensive than I had bargained for. But at least I am avoiding the cold weather of Canada and surviving on a diet of sausage rolls, Tim Tams and ginger beer is doable.
I don’t know if our paths crossed back in the 80’s but they still could as I’m in Queensland until early January.
In regards to the Polish charity work; Fred Archer always said it was his best paying job as the charity had negotiated a free ferry from Dover to Ostend.
mushroomman:
DIG:
mushroomman:
Star down under.:
Thanks David, most entertaining and very well written. I only wish I could write as creatively as you.
I have to agree with you Ian, Spardo makes you feel like you are sat in the cab with him, I wish that I could write like that.
MRM did you do Geikie gorge on the Fitzroy river as well? Dig
GEIKIE GORGE, WESTERN AUSTRALIA.
Hi Dig, yes, we did pay a visit to Geikie Gorge while we were over on the west coast. The Fitzroy was a bit low at the time after months of a drought and I think that your Crocs were looking for a good feed.
I think that you posted a photo of the bridge over the Fitzroy River some time ago which brought back a few memories for me, so thanks for that. I have a feeling that the campsite where we stayed was not too far from that bridge.
We stayed there for three days and somebody asked us “had we seen The Bikies”. We had no idea what they meant, until they explained that every year, a lot of the motorbike groups around Perth would meet up and drive from Perth up to Darwin. I found this hard to believe as it must be a distance of over 4,000 kilometres, one way.
That afternoon, about half a dozen Police utes and trailers pulled onto the campsite and set up marquee’s, tents and they also had a barbecue trailer. We thought that was very good of them to look after ‘The Bikies’ but a few hours later another fifty or so policemen and women turned up and moved into the tents. The next night they even held a disco tech and after having an early breakfast on the Sunday morning they all disappeared.
We did see small groups of ‘Bikies’ heading north over the next couple of days so maybe you can answer this question for me.
Would ‘The Bikies’ have been travelling all the way up to Darwin with a police ■■■■■■ or can you add anything just to keep this thread ticking over.As regards Spardo’s question, I have no idea what the agreement would have been with the charities, but I do remember that when the Iron Curtain came down, Anneka Rice did a television series called ‘Challenge Anneka’.
They were rebuilding an orphanage/ hospital somewhere in Romania and were asking for donations of building materials, beds, medical equipment and transport. I must admit that I never saw the programme as I was probably overnighting somewhere down the road but I did hear that there were lots of shots of the companies who supplied the trucks.
Maybe somebody on here knows which transport companies got involved with the challenge or they may even have some photos of the trip.
GEIKI GORGE, WESTERN AUSTRALIA.
Thanks MRM looks like you explored the Gorge pretty thoroughly, I caught my first Barra in the gorge I was with the the original guide in the tour boat 12foot aluminium dingy that they used at that time after the last trip of the day, we called him Blink great character my fish went 11pounds there was a self imposed limit that the locals worked to of 10pounds so we ate him at the pub that night.The lady who ran the store at the pub Shirley caught a 36 pounder a couple of weeks late.a record at the time.
At the time you were there the bike gangs Hells Angels etc were ll accompanied by a squad of police to make sure they didn’t misbehave when on their annual tours around country, don’t know if they still do as its not as newsworthy anymore.
Dig
ChrisArbon:
In regards to the Polish charity work; Fred Archer always said it was his best paying job as the charity had negotiated a free ferry from Dover to Ostend.
Thanks for that Chris, I did wonder how it all worked. 
Hi Chris, I did wonder when I saw you logged on the other morning, what you would be doing up so early at 3 a.m. in Canada. 
It all makes sense now, so enjoy your trip and I am afraid that you will have to put up with this Tropical weather for at least another week.
Hi Dig, that’s a fair size Barra, I bet that you didn’t need many chips with that one. 
I was looking back at the archives yesterday and I remember seeing this great little story from Tony Taylor, so I thought that it was worth reshowing.
by Tony Taylor » Sun Jan 20, 2013 1:28 am
A far more interesting incident Geoffrey was when I got locked up in a Turkish military prison.I don’t have the literary prowess of Jazzandy or Mushroomman,but this is 100% true.It was my first trip to Baghdad and I was with the 2 Daves, Ireland and Mason.We had left Baghdad in the afternoon and reached the border at Zahko in the late evening.I was the lead truck which was a bad idea because Dave Ireland had done the job before and should have been in the front.In those days the border wasn’t open all night,and as we approached it in the dark I saw line of trucks parked and I drove past all of them and went straight to front,I didn’t realise they were waiting for the morning, I thought it a queue for a garage.The border guard came up and he was pretty angry and told us to go to the back of the queue.There was nowhere to turn round or we would have gone back,so we negotiated to with him to stay where we were.He was open to a bit of backsheese and we asked him what he wanted in return for letting us stay.First off he wanted a kettle,so Davey Mason gave him his kettle,the guy wasn’t too happy with it(he wanted one with a lid,not one with a whistle) but he kept it any way.Next I gave him our last ■■■ book,he still wanted more so Dave Ireland gave him a broken calculater.He said “it doen’t work”,Davey told him it was solar powered and would work ok in the sunlight.He still wasn’t satisfied so I gave him 2 packets of marlboro,still not enough,he wanted my shoes and my shirt.We drew the line there and said enough is enough,so he let us stay.The next morning we were first through the border and set off on the way to Gaziantep.About 200 meters down the road there were 2 bulgarian trucks parked up half on and half off the road.The road there has quite a steep camber,As I pulled out to pass them there was a 4 wheel Tonka loaded up to the sky with timber coming the other way,the thing was already rocking side to side.When he saw me coming he panicked(there was enough room to pass) and drove on to [zb] at the side of the road and as he went to straighten up, the truck just fell over on to it’s side.I stopped, which was probably a big mistake because suddenly I was surrounded by angry Turks,god knows where they came from.I wound up the window and locked the door and just sat there nervously wondering what was going to happen next,I’d heard all the scarey stories about what happens to foreign truck drivers who have accidents in Turkey.The Turkish driver got out of his truck through the door that was now the roof and was holding his head in his hands.The border police came up and made me get out of the truck and go back to the border with them accompanied by the Turk.At the border the Turkish driver and the police were jibber jabbering away with each other and making gestures to me,I was getting pretty aprehensive by this time.The police started writing down what the driver was saying and when they finished he made his mark on the paper,the police then wanted me to sign it as well,which I refused to do.This made the policeman angry and he gave me a hard whack across the face,which made me angry and scared and I shouted for the 2 Daves (who outside) to get hold of the Britsh Consul and tell them what was happening to me.Sometimes I think the gods look down and smile at us,because just then along came the army(Turkey had a military government at that time) and wanted to know what was going on.They had a long talk with the police and then said to me “you are coming with us,go back to truck and follow us”.I and the 2 Daves followed them to an army camp at Silopi,where they put me in the cells,I didn’t expect that and I must admit at this stage I was starting to feel a bit frightened,the worst thing is not knowing what is going to happen next.After about an hour they took me and the Turkish driver to a room in which there was a big table with 3 army officers seated behind it.One was reading the paper that the Turk had signed and they wanted me to write down my version of the events.They gave me a pen and paper and so I started,but they wanted me to write it in Turkish,which I obviously couldn’t do and so they gave me Turkish/English dictionary.I don’t know if anyone has ever tried to write a description of events in this manner,but I can tell you I found it impossible.When I couldn’t do it they put me back in the cells.I was left there all day in the roasting heat with nothing to eat or drink, I was wondering what the 2 Daves were doing,whether they had found a phone and called the British Consul.About 4 in the afternoon an army officer came in and told me in English to go with to have a medical check.We went in a jeep to another building and went into a large room.The officer said he was a doctor and he was going to give me medical exam.I wasn’t happy about this, my imagination running wild and asked him why?,he said it was compulsory and he had to check for alcohol and also my eyesight.I relaxed a bit then and expected him to ask me to blow into the bag,but they don’t do things the easy way in Turkey,he came very close,pinched my nose with his fingers and asked me to breath out!! no problem there.Then he said “can you see those 3 letters on the wall over there” I said “yes”,“ok cover one eye up and read them”,“ABC”, “ok,cover the other eye and read them again”.“ABC”.“Well done you’ve passed both the tests” he said.“Ok good, maybe you can help me”.I explained that I had to write down what had happened in Turkish and if I could tell him, would he write it down for me.He said he would and just as he finished there was a knock on the door and in came Youngturks man,the agent we had used at the border.He had been looking for me to try to help.He read the paper that the doctor had written and said to me “You’ve missed out one very important thing.You must say that before you started to pass the Bulgarian trucks you put put on your flasher to indicate that you were going to pull out”.The doctor wrote this in and we went back to first room,the army officers were re-assembled and the both versions of the events were read.One of the officers asked me a question,which I obviously couldn’t understand and so Youngturk answered it instead.Everything happened very quickly then,they said I was free to go.If you’ve ever had a feeling of great relief,it’s the best feeling in the world and that’s what I felt at that moment.Later I asked Youngturk about the question,he said it was about the indicator and the Turkish driver had not repected it,and so the accident was his fault.I shudder to think what might have happened if the army hadn’t come along and I was left in the hands of that border policeman.But,alls well that ends well.And let that be a lesson to all drivers who jump queues intentionally or not.
Tony Taylor
SENIOR MEMBER
Posts: 180
Joined: Wed Feb 15, 2012 1:41 am
Location: Cuijk, The Netherlands
Top
And a couple of posts later, I came across this post from Freddie who used to come up with some great little tales. 
freshir » Mon Jan 21, 2013 4:27 am
We in Sussex received a weather warning today advising anyone travelling to be sure to carry Shovel,blankets, sleeping bag,extra clothing including scarf dry socks and a 24 hour supply of food and drink, a de-icer, 5 kgs: of rock salt a torch and spare battery a first aid kit and jump leads - I felt a right prat on the bus this morning,
mushroomman:
Hi Chris, I did wonder when I saw you logged on the other morning, what you would be doing up so early at 3 a.m. in Canada.
It all makes sense now, so enjoy your trip and I am afraid that you will have to put up with this Tropical weather for at least another week.Hi Dig, that’s a fair size Barra, I bet that you didn’t need many chips with that one.
I was looking back at the archives yesterday and I remember seeing this great little story from Tony Taylor, so I thought that it was worth reshowing.
by Tony Taylor » Sun Jan 20, 2013 1:28 am
A far more interesting incident Geoffrey was when I got locked up in a Turkish military prison.I don’t have the literary prowess of Jazzandy or Mushroomman,but this is 100% true.It was my first trip to Baghdad and I was with the 2 Daves, Ireland and Mason.We had left Baghdad in the afternoon and reached the border at Zahko in the late evening.I was the lead truck which was a bad idea because Dave Ireland had done the job before and should have been in the front.In those days the border wasn’t open all night,and as we approached it in the dark I saw line of trucks parked and I drove past all of them and went straight to front,I didn’t realise they were waiting for the morning, I thought it a queue for a garage.The border guard came up and he was pretty angry and told us to go to the back of the queue.There was nowhere to turn round or we would have gone back,so we negotiated to with him to stay where we were.He was open to a bit of backsheese and we asked him what he wanted in return for letting us stay.First off he wanted a kettle,so Davey Mason gave him his kettle,the guy wasn’t too happy with it(he wanted one with a lid,not one with a whistle) but he kept it any way.Next I gave him our last ■■■ book,he still wanted more so Dave Ireland gave him a broken calculater.He said “it doen’t work”,Davey told him it was solar powered and would work ok in the sunlight.He still wasn’t satisfied so I gave him 2 packets of marlboro,still not enough,he wanted my shoes and my shirt.We drew the line there and said enough is enough,so he let us stay.The next morning we were first through the border and set off on the way to Gaziantep.About 200 meters down the road there were 2 bulgarian trucks parked up half on and half off the road.The road there has quite a steep camber,As I pulled out to pass them there was a 4 wheel Tonka loaded up to the sky with timber coming the other way,the thing was already rocking side to side.When he saw me coming he panicked(there was enough room to pass) and drove on to [zb] at the side of the road and as he went to straighten up, the truck just fell over on to it’s side.I stopped, which was probably a big mistake because suddenly I was surrounded by angry Turks,god knows where they came from.I wound up the window and locked the door and just sat there nervously wondering what was going to happen next,I’d heard all the scarey stories about what happens to foreign truck drivers who have accidents in Turkey.The Turkish driver got out of his truck through the door that was now the roof and was holding his head in his hands.The border police came up and made me get out of the truck and go back to the border with them accompanied by the Turk.At the border the Turkish driver and the police were jibber jabbering away with each other and making gestures to me,I was getting pretty aprehensive by this time.The police started writing down what the driver was saying and when they finished he made his mark on the paper,the police then wanted me to sign it as well,which I refused to do.This made the policeman angry and he gave me a hard whack across the face,which made me angry and scared and I shouted for the 2 Daves (who outside) to get hold of the Britsh Consul and tell them what was happening to me.Sometimes I think the gods look down and smile at us,because just then along came the army(Turkey had a military government at that time) and wanted to know what was going on.They had a long talk with the police and then said to me “you are coming with us,go back to truck and follow us”.I and the 2 Daves followed them to an army camp at Silopi,where they put me in the cells,I didn’t expect that and I must admit at this stage I was starting to feel a bit frightened,the worst thing is not knowing what is going to happen next.After about an hour they took me and the Turkish driver to a room in which there was a big table with 3 army officers seated behind it.One was reading the paper that the Turk had signed and they wanted me to write down my version of the events.They gave me a pen and paper and so I started,but they wanted me to write it in Turkish,which I obviously couldn’t do and so they gave me Turkish/English dictionary.I don’t know if anyone has ever tried to write a description of events in this manner,but I can tell you I found it impossible.When I couldn’t do it they put me back in the cells.I was left there all day in the roasting heat with nothing to eat or drink, I was wondering what the 2 Daves were doing,whether they had found a phone and called the British Consul.About 4 in the afternoon an army officer came in and told me in English to go with to have a medical check.We went in a jeep to another building and went into a large room.The officer said he was a doctor and he was going to give me medical exam.I wasn’t happy about this, my imagination running wild and asked him why?,he said it was compulsory and he had to check for alcohol and also my eyesight.I relaxed a bit then and expected him to ask me to blow into the bag,but they don’t do things the easy way in Turkey,he came very close,pinched my nose with his fingers and asked me to breath out!! no problem there.Then he said “can you see those 3 letters on the wall over there” I said “yes”,“ok cover one eye up and read them”,“ABC”, “ok,cover the other eye and read them again”.“ABC”.“Well done you’ve passed both the tests” he said.“Ok good, maybe you can help me”.I explained that I had to write down what had happened in Turkish and if I could tell him, would he write it down for me.He said he would and just as he finished there was a knock on the door and in came Youngturks man,the agent we had used at the border.He had been looking for me to try to help.He read the paper that the doctor had written and said to me “You’ve missed out one very important thing.You must say that before you started to pass the Bulgarian trucks you put put on your flasher to indicate that you were going to pull out”.The doctor wrote this in and we went back to first room,the army officers were re-assembled and the both versions of the events were read.One of the officers asked me a question,which I obviously couldn’t understand and so Youngturk answered it instead.Everything happened very quickly then,they said I was free to go.If you’ve ever had a feeling of great relief,it’s the best feeling in the world and that’s what I felt at that moment.Later I asked Youngturk about the question,he said it was about the indicator and the Turkish driver had not repected it,and so the accident was his fault.I shudder to think what might have happened if the army hadn’t come along and I was left in the hands of that border policeman.But,alls well that ends well.And let that be a lesson to all drivers who jump queues intentionally or not.
Tony Taylor
SENIOR MEMBERPosts: 180
Joined: Wed Feb 15, 2012 1:41 am
Location: Cuijk, The Netherlands
TopAnd a couple of posts later, I came across this post from Freddie who used to come up with some great little tales.
freshir » Mon Jan 21, 2013 4:27 am
We in Sussex received a weather warning today advising anyone travelling to be sure to carry Shovel,blankets, sleeping bag,extra clothing including scarf dry socks and a 24 hour supply of food and drink, a de-icer, 5 kgs: of rock salt a torch and spare battery a first aid kit and jump leads - I felt a right prat on the bus this morning,
Loved the footnote!
ERF-NGC-European:
Loved the footnote!
A great story, and perfectly finished with that.
A short report to illustrate doctors and tests. A few years ago when my wife, after 3 mini-strokes, began to show signs of mental confusion, on our regular visit to the doctor I asked him if he had a test for alzheimers. And just to show willing and also because at my age, you never know, I asked him to test me as well. The test was detailed and complicated.
He drew on a piece of paper a clock face with the hands set at 2 o’clock and asked her to tell him what time it was. 2 o’clock she said in English which I then translated, quatorze heure.
The next drawing was of a house, no windows or doors, just the box outline with the pitched roof attached. But it was lying on its side and the doctor asked what’s wrong with that? I translated the question and then the answer, which of course was correct.
So she was ok and not showing any signs of the disease. Big sighs of relief.
Then he gave exactly the same tests to me, the clock at 2 and the house on its side. Amazingly I got them both right as well. 
No problem there he said, you are both ok. But we were very confused as we left the surgery. At least he didn’t pinch our noses, that would have been a step too far. 
Another one from the Trucknet Archives, from John, a.k.a. old 67.
So just left school,equipped with new boots and a few sandwiches in my pocket,I catch the first of 2 buses at 5 45am for the journey from Illingworth near Halifax, to Ripponden.Ripponden & District was a huge garage and loading bay,where about 70 Albions and Commer 13 tonners with van bodies were all parked inside.
There was a hugh pile of mixed goods at the back of each van to be loaded by the driver and mate.The deck forman too me over to my driver,Neville"TINY". He says “dont just stand there get a sack cart” and with about 60 delivery notes in a bulldog clip starts climbing all over the huge pile of crates,boxes,rolls of cloth,parcels,45gall.drums,castings,carpets,long bundles of steel,bikes,mill skips,and lots of other stuff.
Its my job to wheel / carry it all and stack it up to the roof front to back.From starting work at 7am it took about an hour to load.Tiny says he going to the canteen for his breakfast,and as its Monday I would have to fill the Albion up with hot water!!!. I should tell you now that Ripponden didnt use antifreeze,because the lorries were either working or in the heated garage/warehouse overnight,except at weekends,and the mechanics drained the water out of every lorry on friday night!!!
One of the other mates showed "the new lad"how to close the taps,one down the sie of the block,and one on the radiator.I the had to do battle with 60 or so other mates for the dozen or so watering can available.I soon realised there was a pecking order,but I managed to get done and get to the canteen
In the canteen I met “Dolly-one knife”,who,standing behind a big pile of sliced bread and 2 big bowls said"hurry up lad,pint or half,drip or jam?“.I Got a pint of tea and sat down.Just stated to unwrap my sandwiches,when I get a nudge from Tiny,he says"no time for that lad,get thi sen down t’ van,we’re off,thar latter frame the sen next time”.
It was like a scene from hell with all them engines firing up inside the garage.As a young lad I was a bit dissapointed to be in an old Albion as I hoped to be in one of the new LAD cabs.
Anyway we set off over the moors towards Oldham,the deafening sound of the engine,the draught from the floor blowing the smoke fromTinys full stength about,and me wondering what the rest of the day would bring…To be continued,or not!!!
Regards,John.
Thanks for the kind comments lads.The Albion I was on for the first day was like this one:
Anyway, we get to the top of Windy Hill and it all goes quiet as Tiny casually knocks it "out of stick"and we rapidly gather speed down the other side towards Denshaw,all I could hear was the tyres howling and the wind rushing past!!.Tiny spots me trying to look at the speedo,he laughs and says with a quivering voice(because he was gripping the shaking steering wheel)"dont fret lad,we dont 'ave to stop at the bottom! He was right,we rolled through Denshaw crossroads,and he didn’t snick it back in to gear till we were almost at the top of Grains Bar.
When we got to our first drop,I learned my 1st lesson,mates were to exit the cab BEFORE the lorry stopped,so when your feet stopped running you were level with the back and could drop the tailboard.We delivered to many shops,factories,schools and it seemed to me all the mills in Delph,Uppermill,Greenfield,Mossley,Staleybridge & Ashton-u-Lyne,getting rid of about 40 drops,when we stopped for dinner at “Syds Cafe” in Stamford Square in Ashton.I Was knackered,the worst bit so far was having a 1cwt.sack of water treatment powder(used in the water for steam boilers at the mills)dropped on my back,staggering like I was drunk all over the place,to the laughter of both Tiny & the boilerman.
The rest of the drops were mainly in Droylesden,Clayton,Openshaw & Gt.Ancoats
We did a drop in Sharnaware in Droylesden.When we were going back to the cab there were delivery notes blowing out of the cab window and around the yard!!! Tiny shouted “pick the(ZB) things up you dozy(ZB). Got back in the cab,” count 'em"says Tiny.,you checked 68(or whatever the exact number was)notes out this morning,they had better all be there. i start counting not daring to look at Tiny,sure enough there’s a few missing,he reaches across the cab and gives me a slap at the back of my head.I said I was sorry,but I Thought all the notes were tightly in the bulldog clip.He tells me not to think,I have nothing to think with!,I’m just his donkey,and know nowt. Not a lot you can say to that !!!.
Later on Tiny is looking for a new drop, a shop on Gt.Ancoats St.,he cant 'see it,and asks the bloke at the next drop in he knows where it is.I pipes up " I know where it is,I saw it next to so and so".BIG mistake,got my second slap ta the back of my head.!!! Deserved it I suppose,but didn’t do owt like it again.
The last of the drops off for about 2pm,we ring in for any extra collections to add to the list of daily collections we have.We collect many various size parcels & rolls of textiles,trays of paint ,drums of dye,drums of chemicals,castings,bales of greycloth,cartons of elec. goods sacks of pipe fittings etc etc.The last collection cardboard drums of glue from "Gloy"at Failsworth would not fit in the van so we put the tailboard flat on the chains and loaded them on to this,tied the sheet down and off to the cafe at Waterhead Oldham.
We had 13 vans on the Manchester area every day,and they all met up at the cafe between about 5 30pm to 6 30. I had my chips & gravy,and watched some of the older mates playing on the pinball machine.About 7 00pm,one of the lads shouts " come on he’s going"as he spots one of the drivers heading for the door.It seemed like all hell was let loose as all the drivers and mates headed for the door.I looked over at Tiny,who was sitting down,and he waved me over(the mates didn’t sit with the drivers) and said "we’ll let them silly (ZBs) go,they can race each other back to Ripponden if they want.
On the slow ride over the moors we had a good chat,he seemed a different bloke now the work was done.I cheered up a bit by the time we turned up the steep rise into the yard,the old Albion creaking and leaning well over with the weight of a full tailboard load.I checked the notes back into the office(Tiny had said on the way back he would explain about the missing ones) and went off to catch the first of my 2 buses home. My mam asked if I had enjoyed my first day at work,and you know despite aching all over and getting belted twice,I think I did…
Regards John.
the Foden in your photo was at Ripponden in '64 when I started.I was new in 1960 and was a flat used to collect each day a full load from Shell Oils in Trafford Park. It was coverted by our mechanics in 1966 to replace the previous Atkinson breakdown.There’s a sad story to this lorry.As Tiny and me were climing out of Denshaw towards Ripponden one evening,the Foden, with a full load, was stopped half way up Windy Hill.and one of our other vans in front.Jimmy Booth,was in the passenger seat of the Foden,and said he had stopped because he felt a bit rough.Me and the other mate ran to the Rams Head pub at the top of the hill to ring for an ambulance.By the time we got back,poor old Jimmy had passed away.We found out later it was a heart attack.
On a lighter note heres a picture of the breakdown in our workshops,it was still working in 1997 when I left.Plus a couple of old photos.
regards John
Well worth repeating, MRM, a fascinating story with a sad twist. He started right about the same time as me. I passed my car test in the morning and got a job with the Co-op on a pop van in the afternoon. A different sort of job, a different run every day but the same week after week. Long distance to me was Grantham (Mondays) all of 25 miles away and I thought I was a real lorry driver, especially the day I broke down and an Atki driver gave me a lift to a phone box. So impressed with the mighty vehicle I missed my footing getting out and fell head first, only being saved from a bashed in head by getting a foot jammed in the seat, and dangled upside down till the driver came round to see why I hadn’t shut the door. He then, after stopping the laughter, took my weight till I freed it. Very embarrassing.
Saturday morning was The Meadows, a poor area of Nottingham built on the flood plane of the Trent and a maze of little terraces and alleyways. Took a lot of money there but half the people I noted only bought every couple of weeks or so. So I took it upon myself to split it in 2 and deliver on alternate weeks in order to knock off by dinnertime. Bad move, the complaints flooded in and I was hauled over the coals and made to do the whole lot in one go again.
I always appreciated the individualism of Ripponden and District, with all their vans made to look like old time tilts. All our lorries were Commers, nothing else.
We had another sad thing in common, one of the driver’s sons was drowned in the nearby canal wandering there after helping his Dad on the round that day, and he was given several days off and the lend of the 2nd in command’s car to do all his running about organising the funeral etc… We all had a lot of sympathy for him but it was somewhat reduced when it was clear that he took advantage of good nature and kept hold of the car for much longer than was necessary to do what he had to do.
BTW, the 2nd in command was 6ft 6inches tall and, of course, was always know as ‘Tiny’.
Question ---- I’ve no doubt that both carriers came into contact with each other in the Manchester area so which was considered the better carrier ----Ripponden or Bridges ( It’s best by road and better by Bridges ! ) As I remember Bridges were a regular sight in the Kendal and Furness areas in the heyday of the carriers and IIRC the Barrow in Furness van or vans collected their van Lads in Ulverston each morning for a busy day in the Borough which I suppose made sense as the mate would probably know his way around the area rather than bring a lad from Preston but then again Harold Bridges was a canny operator so he wouldn’t reckon to pay a mate , sat on his arse, all the way from Preston to Barrow and back when he could pay a local for half the hours ! Tight Wad ! 
Cheers Bewick.
I am afraid that I can’t add much to your question Dennis, as I only remember seeing Bridges vans out on the road. I do remember seeing Ripponden and District vans almost every day, as their lads used The Cabin Cafe on the A664 Rochdale Road, at Slattock’s Bridge.
I have just had a look on Google Earth, and it seems that the cafe, which was owned by a bloke called Bill, was converted into a house a long time ago. The cafe, which had a large parking area around the back, was very popular back in 1965 before they built the A627 Motorway and the Stakehill Distribution Park.
As regards the Ripponden driver ‘Tiny’, I don’t think that it was such a bright idea to ‘knock it out of cog’ and engage ‘Aberdeen overdrive’ while approaching Denshaw Junction.
I am sure that there was a major accident there back in the nineties involving a Styrene tanker, and Moomooland posted a photo of it on here years ago. So, if you are reading this Paul, could you please see if you have still got the photo and post it, thanks.
What used to be, The Cabin Cafe, near Slattock’s Bridge.
earth.google.com/web/search/Bri … c0R6UmcQAg
EDITED TO ADD, SOME FIVE WEEKS LATER AND THANKS TO E.R.F.-NGC- EUROPEAN FOR RESOWING THIS PHOTO.
Postby mushroomman » Sun Jul 31, 2022 2:54 pm
Hi Dig, yes, it’s amazing how other people’s stories jog other people’s memories.
S.D.U.'s mention of that caravan took me back to when I had to tow a caravan behind that Nissan truck, down to the diamond mines in South West Africa back in 1976/7.
I have photos of it somewhere and as they say that every picture says a thousand words, then I will have to wait until I get back from my holidays before I can put it on this thread.
Sorry for the delay, I had forgotten all about this post until about three weeks ago. 
MY FIRST TRIP TO THE SOUTH WEST AFRICAN DIAMOND MINES.
or ICE COLD IN ALEX.
It must have been August 1978 when my boss Albert, who was a Dutchman, told me that his company had tendered for a job with Consolidated Diamond Mines a.k.a. C.D.M. to build 30 bungalows on the banks of the Orange River, at a place called Orangemund. The tender had been accepted and Albert said that he wanted me to go down there and get our sheds and materials on the site within the next week.
I asked Albert to show me on the map exactly where the site was going to be and he replied “err, it’s not on the map but I am sure that you will find it, I have some of the directions here”. He gave me a piece of paper which read, go past the airport, do not cross over the bridge and the site is about twelve kilometers along that road on the right-hand side.
The main contractor had told Albert that by the time that we should be arriving, then they would have put up a chain link fence around the site. As we had got the electrical contract for the project, then there was a lot of things that we had to plan and already Albert told me that he had come up with a major problem.
Part of the contract stipulated that there must be a European, qualified electrician on the site for most of the time and it was estimated that the job would take about several months to complete.
The trouble was back then, that time served qualified electricians didn’t want to work in the bush and live under canvas for any length of time. They all preferred to work on ‘big jobs’ like power stations, new hospitals or hotels near the bigger towns or cities.
Albert had already flown down to Cape Town to interview a South African electrician who had agreed to take the job on, providing that we could put a caravan on site for his accommodation.
I asked Albert how are we going to get a caravan down to Orangemund and he replied, “we will make a tow bar and put on the back of the truck, and you can tow it down there”.
Well, I must admit that at the time I did have my doubts if this was going to be feasible, as I knew that it would probably involve driving over many miles of dirt roads that were very often, badly corrugated.
Albert had another surprise for me that morning, he told me that he had gone out and bought two secondhand caravans which needed ‘a bit of work on them’. He was certain that not only could they be used for accommodation, but they could also be used as our site office on other jobs.
The two caravans arrived that afternoon and after a few of the workers had had a good laugh at the state of them, Albert convinced them all that he had bought them at a bargain price. He was a very positive person was Albert, he was a brilliant boss, and it was the best driving job that I ever had.
After I had left the office, I had a look on my Michelin map of Southern Africa to work out the best way to get down there. Basically, it was a case of head 880 kilometers south and then go 90 kilometers west to a place called Port Nolloth. When I arrived at The South Atlantic Coast, I had to head north for about 86 kilometers and when I reached The Orange River, I had to turn east and go for another 12 kilometers.
I was told to leave the truck, which was an eight tonne Nissen Diesel U.G.780 in the workshop, while the boilermakers measured up and made the tow bar. After they had fitted it, one of the electricians installed an electrical coupling onto the back of the truck. As Albert had another job for me that day, he told me to take the ‘V Dub’.
For the four years that I was driving for Albert, I never had a car of my own. He made sure that I always had a company vehicle to use whenever I was back in Windhoek, which was usually a Volkswagen double cab bakkie. It was what we called in England, a pickup truck or in Australia, a Ute, which is short for a utility vehicle. I was always allowed to drive it for my own private use and I never spent any of my own money putting petrol in it. Albert used to say “just call it a perk of the job”.
I spent many happy days in that Volkswagen double cab driving on dirt roads and it handled like a dream. Flying over all the corrugations on the dirt roads needed quite a bit of practice but you also had to treat those dirt roads with great respect, especially at night.
Unfortunately, one of our electricians called Fred rolled it early one morning on his way to a job in Walvis Bay. Sadly, Fred was killed and the ‘V Dub’ was written off.
I arrived back at the yard in Windhoek two days later and I was very surprised to see the progress that had been made on both of the caravans.
They had both been resprayed two tone blue and each one had a yellow company sticker next to the door. The electricians had also fitted a 240-volt Neon strip light inside which could be run off one of the portable generators. This was to replace the gas mantle lights that had been fitted when the caravans were new. An electrical coupling had been fitted so that the caravan had brake lights, side lights and indicators.
The only thing that had been overlooked was the state of the tyres on both of the caravans and there were no spares. So, I decided that I would put the best two tyres on the best caravan that we were going to use and to take the other two wheels as spares. We ended up putting the other caravan on blocks in the corner of the yard until I arrived back.
I knew that if I took my time and if I didn’t go over 70 kilometers an hour and if I stopped regularly, to check that everything was O.K. then I should be alright.
We started loading the truck up that afternoon with a few cable drums, conduit tubing, some electrical fittings, a couple of mobile generators, tools and two corrugated iron sheds. Both sheds were in sections, one being about seven foot high by sixteen foot long by ten foot wide. This shed was usually used as a storage area, the other shed was slightly smaller and was used as accommodation for our workers who wanted to live on site.
I was told that I would be taking two semi-skilled electricians with me, Arron and Joshua, to get the camp set up. I had arranged to meet the two lads with their tools, bedding and cooking equipment at our yard at 8 a.m. the next morning when we would then set off.
Arron and Joshua were both good lads who came from the Ovambo tribe up in the north of the country. Their village was close to the Angolan border and they had both been educated at one of the German Missionary schools up in the area. They were both in their late teens and although they were not qualified electricians, they were very enthusiastic workers. The pair of them had never been out of the country before and Joshua was really excited as he had never seen the sea before.
I can’t remember what size fuel tank was on that Nissan U.G. eight tonner, it was probably only about 20 gallons so I always carried at least one, 45 gallon drum of diesel on the back and a length of clear plastic tubing, so that I could use it as a syphon.
Every time, especially when we were starting a new contract, that I went out on a job, the company secretary, Mrs. Olivier would give me a wad of cash, which I would have to sign for and a job sheet. Whenever I had to buy fuel, equipment, materials or food I always tried to get a receipt and book it down to the appropriate job number.
We left Windhoek and headed south and after about half an hour I stopped to make sure that everything was alright. The thing that worried me the most was the height of the tow bar, as it was only about a foot above the sealed road. I knew that I would have to keep my speed down once we hit the dirt roads and the corrugations.
I had fitted a radio cassette player into the truck but once I had driven about thirty miles outside Windhoek, I could never pick up a radio signal. The only station that it would receive was S.A.B.C. The South African Broadcasting Corporation and I could only get it in Windhoek, Walvis Bay, Swakopmund and a place called Keetmanshoop. It was O.K. if I had to drive down to Johannesburg, Port Elizabeth or Cape Town as the radio signal was much stronger down there. And if I was driving up in the north in The Caprivi Strip, then I was able to pick up a signal from the Rhodesian Radio stations or Radio Zambia.
I only had four cassettes, Pink Floyds ‘Dark Side of The Moon’ and ‘Wish You Were Here’. Leo Sayer’s ‘Silver Bird’ and The Eagles Greatest Hits. There were no television station in South West Africa at the time, in fact, Eddie Calvert was still quite popular back then and if you are under fifty years old reading this, then you might have to look him up.
Eddie Calvert - Wikipedia en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eddie_Calvert
Why I remember the date of this trip was because it had just been announced by the S.A.B.C that 56-year-old Eddie Calvert had passed away.
By 3 p.m. that afternoon we had passed the sign for the ‘Tropic of Capricorn’ or as The Afrikaners called it, the ‘Steenbokskeerkring’ and had reached a town called Keetmanshoop, which was about 500 kilometers south of Windhoek. The main road had now by passed the town, but it was always worth doing the two-kilometer detour into it as there were a couple of fuel stations, shops and a café. There was a store near The Canyon Hotel, that sold everything from shovels, picks and paraffin storm lanterns to tins of beans and light bulbs. You could even get a spit roasted chicken with chips and we were able to buy three ‘Braai’ packs which each consisted of a couple of steaks, two large chops and about a foot of Boer Wurst, which was a delicious, thick type of farmers sausage. We even bought some freshly baked bread rolls.
Another great ‘perk’ of this job was the sighting of wild animals in their natural habitat. We had already seen a few Springboks that day along with, a herd of Kudus, a wild pig and a Troop of Baboons. There was never as much wildlife south of Windhoek as there was in the north of the country. If you were in an eight-ton truck and a five-ton Elephant was crossing the road, it was best practice to keep your distance and leave the engine running, as elephants always had the right of way. I must admit that the first time that I ever saw an elephant crossing the road near The Zambezi River, it really did scare me. You just could not predict what they were going to do.
Kudus, which are a large, horned antelope were always found roaming around the bush and were the cause of most traffic accidents. They moved about mainly in the early evening, at night and in the early mornings when the temperatures were a lot cooler than they were during the day. In the daytime, you could usually see them laying around in the shade of a tree or a bush.
Nobody really knew why Kudus seemed to be attracted to the road at nights. One theory was that the moons reflection on the road might have given them the impression that the road could have been a river or a source of water.
Most people who had hit a Kudu at night had said that the Kudu had appeared to run towards them, and they believed that the animal was trying to run away from its own shadow, towards the vehicle’s headlights.
My travelling companion and flat mate Brian had the misfortune of meeting a herd of Kudus on a dirt road, about eight o’clock at night.
I found out about this accident two days later and my other flat mate Pete and I drove up to the hospital, which was about 200 kilometres away.
Brian told me that he had off loaded at a mine out in the bush near a place called Omaruru and that he was on his way home with his Mercedes 2632, 6x4. He was empty, and was pulling a forty-foot trailer with a twenty-foot trailer behind that.
As he came around a left-hand bend, he noticed a herd of Kudus at the side of the road who came running towards him. Brian braked, but the unit and the trailers just slid across the dirt road and hit the dirt banking. He told me that the cab had flipped over and they seemed to scrape along the dirt upside down for ages, and he thought that they were never going to stop.
All of a sudden everything went white, which was the windscreen smashing, (I think it was laminated?). Then everything went pitch black, which must have been the batteries dropping off the truck and cutting off the headlights.
Brian told us that the scrapping noise was horrifying and that he was screaming out for it to stop. To Brian, it seemed to go on for about ten minutes but in reality, he said that that he had been thinking about it since it had happened, and it probably only lasted for about two minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime.
When the truck finally came to a standstill, he very quickly scrambled through the front windscreen and stood there shacking, not believing what had just happened. He called out the name of his lorry mate who lay motionless in the cab and after a minute or so he thought that he must be dead.
As it was pitch black inside the cab he felt around in the darkness and heard a slight groan when he touched something. He grabbed hold of his mate not thinking that he could probably do any more damage to him, Brian said that he just wanted to get him out and away from the cab. They both sat at the side of the road until the next morning when the first vehicle came along and took them to the hospital at Omaruru. Brian was in the hospital I.I.R.C. for over a week and surprisingly, his lorry mate was discharged after a couple of days.
Now it might have taken you just a couple of minutes to read this story, but it took Brian over twenty minutes or so to describe to Pete and myself every little detail of the things that had happened during those few minutes and not once did we interrupt him while he was telling us this. Like the bits of glass and gravel being flicked up off the road into Brian’s face, as the truck went skidding along on its roof.
Brian was back on the road after a couple of weeks and two months later he went back to the U.K. and never returned to Africa.
I thought that I would mention this story because if we don’t share stories like this on Trucknet then they will be forgotten forever.
And I did wonder if any of you lads had ever been involved in a very serious accident and can relate to this episode.
Anyway, I digress, so back to that bloody caravan.
Just before 8 p.m. that night we were crossing the bridge over The Orange River into South Africa, at the Vioolsdrif border. There wasn’t a border as such, there was, from what I can remember, a small stone building which looked like a small fort. It was painted white, with the words South African Police painted in large letters on one of the walls and it had the old South African flag flying from a tall flagpole. I did hear that occasionally the police would be doing a spot check of vehicles, but I never saw anybody there whenever I passed through.
About an hour later, we arrived at the small town of Steinkopf, which is in Namaqualand in the Northern Cape. This was where we turned right off the bitumen road and headed west along the dirt road towards Port Nolloth. I have a feeling that some of this road may have been bitumen and at the time, there were certainly long stretches of dirt road that had not yet been upgraded.
Arron and Joshua had been sleeping for most of the day and whenever I had stopped to check that the caravan was still with us, they would have a look around for a few sticks of wood called Camelthorn, which they would throw onto the back of the truck.
It had been dark for about the last three hours by now and we had pulled off the dirt road to make something to eat. Joshua and Arron got a fire going while I changed a side light bulb on the back of the caravan. Everything looked O.K. on the truck, although the weather had now turned cold and we had to change from our shorts into our jeans and put a jumper on. As our bags with all our clothes in were stowed in the caravan, I checked to see if everything inside was O.K. which it was.
Fairly soon we had good fire going and once we had a few hot ashes we started to Braai or barbecue the meat that we had. There were no such things as street lights on this journey and because there was no ‘light pollution’ we had a spectacular view of the night sky, occasionally seeing a couple of shooting stars.
I asked Joshua and Arron if they fancied staying here for the night and we could crack on in the morning but they both decided that they wanted to push on. Port Nolloth was only about 100 kilometers away and with the break that we had just had, we all felt refreshed at the time.
With hindsight, I now wish that we would have stopped there for the night.
To be continued if anybody is still reading this.
Still reading and anxiously awaiting the next episode.
Certainly I’m still reading it, a fascinating tale and am looking forward to the follow up. I have been trying to trace your route on the map and would Orangemund be somewhere near a place called Grootderm?
If so I haven’t entirely lost my route finding skills since coming to a halt here.
More please, puts the N bound M6 in to perspective !
MUSHROOM man my god you have certainly been around do not stop this story will make a good start to 2023 .season greetings DBP.
Hi Mushy
Happy New Year to you and Mrs Mush.
What a fantastic tale, thanks for taking the time to post it.
Best regards
GS
Mushroomman .
The main question i would like to ask is-me and thousands of other men are well travelled, world wide,however it my case i had no control where we went as on a ship others had control ,however in you story it seems as you yourself had control of what you were doing and where you going to me that is a bit special,please tell all of us how on earth you were where you were and why very interested to know. dbp.
Spardo:
Certainly I’m still reading it, a fascinating tale and am looking forward to the follow up. I have been trying to trace your route on the map and would Orangemund be somewhere near a place called Grootderm?If so I haven’t entirely lost my route finding skills since coming to a halt here.
There is nothing wrong with your map reading skills David.
Since I started this scribbling about three weeks ago, on and off. I have been doing quite a bit of Googling and looking at Google Earth. It was the first time that I had heard of the names Grootderm, Kortdorn or the name of that farm Beauvallon and I certainly don’t remember that Oranjemund Eskom Substation.
What I did find on the internet, was a couple of lines from somebody who used to live in Orangemund and it read.
The story of Beauvallon is a sad one. A once stunning farm and campsite handed over to the local squabbling community who promptly run it into the ground.
I also came across this photo of those bungalows that we built near Orangemund, some 45 years ago. I can only see three of those street lamps that I brought over from Johannesburg.
Not My Photo.
To be honest, it turned out to be slightly upsetting for me when I was doing this research.