KIWI MEMORIES--TRUCK DRIVING, 50s & 60s.

[kiwi]

It was a good life sometimes but at times it was very hard. I’m talking about the late fifties early sixties when there were not many motorways, just the beginning of the M1, so all the long trips were through towns or country lanes. Journey work could be so hard at times, many of the lorries were death traps, stand up on the foot brakes going downhill and you might stop, then of course on some of the vehicles if you were using your brakes you would use air and what else needed air to operate, the windscreen wipers, so they would stop or go slow, now not only were you trying to stop you could not see what you were going to hit, that’s if the lorry didn’t stop. No power steering then, turning a corner at times I would have to stand-up in the cab to turn the steering wheel. A lot of these vehicles never had heaters so during the winter you would have a blanket wrapped around your legs to try and keep warm. You also had many holes in the front of the cab which you would fill in with paper, to try to keep warm, great until you came to the first big hill, going down the paper would blow out. This wasn’t the only problem, if it was raining and you were going uphill the wipers, being air operated would either stop or slow down, so you had trouble seeing were you were going, and if it was freezing cold the windows would also freeze over, inside and out. Many a time I have stood up with the side window open and reaching round outside trying to make a little hole in the ice on the window so I could see where I was going. Summer, you had the engine in the middle of the cab covered over with anything you could find to keep the smell of the diesel out of the cab. The heat from the engine in the Summer was murder, believe me it was hot. I would sit in traffic with all windows open, including the split window screens pushed forward and I would still be soaked to the skin with sweat. Then you had the roping and sheeting in the snow, ice, and rain, getting the sheet to the top of the load was hard work with no forklift, this was after you had loaded the lorry, a lot of the time on your own, a full load of boxed apples was bloody hard work. Sometimes this was only half of the job because you then had to deliver the load. One of the worst jobs I can remember was loading clay drainage pipes about a foot long, can’t remember how many around four or five thousand. You would pick-up four at a time put them on the lorry jump up stack them in the middle then jump down and start again, once the middle was done you could do both sides. Again, this was only half the job, you then had to deliver them, mainly to farms who never seemed to have anyone to help you, so you unloaded them on your own, plus getting covered in mud, to this day I have never liked farmers.
I have worked many 16hr+ days during those years, so tired it was dangerous, sometimes going many hours with nothing to eat but that was life, I also slept in the lorry many times just to save money, we needed every penny in those days. Of course, there was not so many transport laws in those days, so if you got held up, tough, just keep going, maybe sometimes for yourself, which was your choice because you wanted to get the job done and get home. At times it was so frustrating as half the transport managers never knew anything about routes, miles to and from one place to another plus road conditions but then they were alright sitting in their nice warm offices after starting work at 9 o’clock and going home at 5 o’clock, when we had already been on the road 5 or 6 hrs before they started work and we would still be working when they went home.
You also had times when you had broken down to be left sitting on the side of the road in the freezing cold for many hours waiting for help because you weren’t a priority.
A couple of instances I can remember, regarding transport managers, because at the time they were so stupid, but looking back so funny, these are the people who were supposed to be in charge. The first one I phone from Birmingham to say that I could not get to Luton at a certain time because it was too foggy to drive. Hang on a minute the Transport Manager says, he then returns to say, I have just looked out the window and it is not foggy. Help I’m in Birmingham and you are in London 300 miles away; he then had the cheek when I got back to ask me why I had put the phone down on him.
Another time I’m asked if I can get from one place to another in the next hour, which I answer no way it’s too far to go I’ll go to-morrow, to which he answers it’s not that far it’s only an inch on the map, the map happens to be 300mls to the inch, enough said brains. So, you can see we did have some laughs.
I might have given the impression that truck driving in those days was all doom and gloom that’s far from the truth, it’s just the way it was. When I started driving heavy goods vehicles, I couldn’t have been happier, get in the cab pull out the yard and you’re on your own, freedom, what a way to see the country without paying. To start with no going for a test to drive a big vehicle. You want a job? Right over there is the worst lorry we have, take that out for two weeks and if you don’t crash or have an accident in that time you’ve got the job. So, the way you would go, for want of a better phase Sh….ng yourself. Thank goodness I’ve not stalled it, or crunch the wrong gear, stay in this gear till I get out of the yard and out of ear shot, yes, we all must learn.
In those days life was so different, people seemed to care more, it wasn’t just about flashing lights at each other to say hello. Break down and any number of lorries would pull-up to help, maybe to change a wheel, anything, no reward expected, tomorrow it might be me, and you would do the same. Sadly, that all stopped when the motorways where built, don’t get me wrong motorways are good, but you couldn’t stop to help anyone on them because it was against the law. Then we had the greasy spoons (Cafes) all over the country, 4 or 5 in the morning, fried bread floating in oil, bacon burnt, bake beans dried, tea so weak it struggled to get out the cup, so strong it was like brown ale, stewed where it had been bubbling away in the tea urn for hours. To this day I don’t care how the tea comes, I think it’s called brain washed, would I change anything no, I loved it.
There are many stories about that life in those times from many different people, people who worked very hard in some terrible conditions, this is just a little insight into mine. There are many more stories about my life at that time still in the old memory, sadly people, and that includes family are not interested in your past life, plus when you get older, to many of those people you become invisible.

[Vreagh]

Thank you for that, it brought back many memories. The camaraderie of the drivers, how they would help you to turn the steering wheel when backing into a tight spot by kicking on the road wheels to help you turn, 30s (£1.50) a night subsistence money. As you say, hard but happy days.

[kiwi]

Thank you for that, it brought back many memories. The camaraderie of the drivers, how they would help you to turn the steering wheel when backing into a tight spot by kicking on the road wheels to help you turn, 30s (£1.50) a night subsistence money. As you say, hard but happy days.

Hi Vreagh, not Bermondsey, apart from me in the cab that is, but it shows what you mean about turning the wheels.
As you say many good memories Cheers Kiwi (Ray).

Safeway New Malden.