Bartrums Road Services

The Nitram Road.

____ It was the Autumn of 1979 when I had a job interview with Philip Bartrum at Great Blakenham, just north of Ipswich in Suffolk. Bartrums of Diss were expanding and had bought-out E.W.List of Debenham. The major reason for the takeover was to acquire the ICI fertilizer distribution contract and the warehouse facility at Great Blakenham. E.W.List had a fleet of ten trucks but had enough work for thirty; Bartrums was their biggest sub-contractor who now wanted the well-paying work direct. All the E.W.List drivers took a redundancy pay-out rather than work for Bartrums; so here I was along with a dozen more hopeful drivers looking for a start.

____  Leonard Bartrum started his road haulage company in 1929 and although it was nationalised in 1949 and became part of British Road Services; he bought back the company and ran it until 1966 when he handed over the reigns to his three sons; Philip, Roger and Roy. Their main customers were Colman's; the mustard people, Howard; farm machinery, Boot's the Chemist, the British Sugar Corporation. They also carried bulk flour and malt as well as loads for numerous smaller customers. The ICI work was important as it gave the company loads to bring back to East Anglia from the three fertilizer plants at Billingham, Teeside, Heysham in Lancashire and Avonmouth in the South-West.

____ At twenty-five years old; I was far from the youngest of the new team based at the four-bay warehouse in Lodge Lane, Gt. Blakenham. Mr Bartrum seemed to have deliberately picked the youngsters; although we had to drive the old E.W.List lorries which were Volvo F88s and MAN 16.280s. I was given a MAN which proudly displayed "Truck of the Year" across the top of the windshield. ALT 31 S was an impressive truck; 280 bhp and a double-bunk sleeper but with a 13 speed Eaton-Fuller gearbox; column-change. Half an hour up the road on my first trip; I pulled a muscle in by left shoulder due to difficulties with the un-synchronised gears and the strange position of the gear lever. But once I had mastered cog-box it soon became the best truck I had driven; up to that point in my career.

____ The out-going work of E.W.List was mainly for Vicon; the Dutch farm machinery manufacturer. A typical load on a 40 foot flat-deck trailer would be fifty fertilizer spreaders for a dozen drops. The destinations could be any where in England and Wales. Delivering the spreaders and returning to base with a load of fertilizer would take a week. I loved this type of work and Bartrums were happy to have a driver who didn't mind how many nights-out they had. The Lake District and the West Country were my favorites but I soon began to like the loads to North Wales; once I overcame my aversion to the Welsh speaking locals.

____ I made some good friends with the other drivers and we became a tight-knit group when all the old E.W.List trucks were replaced by a brand new fleet of 1626 Mercedes Benz tractor units. Our new trucks incensed the loyal long-serving drivers at Bartrums' Eye depot on the Norfolk/Suffolk border; many of whom were driving old Volvo F86s. Their resentment of the Great Blakenham drivers never relented in all the years I was there. Plus of course; there was the old Norfolk/ Suffolk; Norwich City/ Ipswich Town rivalry.

260 horse power - 32 tonnes gross vehicle weight.

____ One of the outstanding differences between my old employer, BRS, and Bartrums was driver attitude. At the union dominated BRS; drivers would doing anything to get out of doing work and everything to make things awkward for the management. At Bartrums; the drivers showed tremendous loyalty and would do anything for the young master; a.k.a. Philip Bartrum. He had started as a driver, roping and sheeting in all weathers  and had earned the respect of the long-serving core of drivers. The company paid better than most and driver turn-over was low. The workforce was hard-working and competent; although there was a drinking culture and trouble-making side. The A1, Great North Road, was their playground; Newark, night-out central. I was always OK with the Norfolk drivers if it was one-on-one; but when they were team-handed they were a handful. Mr. Smith, the despatcher at Eye was always getting complaints about his "Cowboys"
 "Cowboys? I wish they were cowboys. Give me cowboys any day. They're all animals; nothing short of animals." was his legendary reply.

20 tonnes of ICI Nitram fertilizer tarped and fly-sheeted.

____ Nitrate fertilizer was big business at the time and the ICI plant at Billingham, Teeside, was sending thousands of tonnes of Nitram south to pastures of East Anglia. The problems of drinking water contamination had yet to surface and every farmer liberally used the snow-white granules in their bright blue plastic bags. Farm deliveries were common and forklift trucks were rare; hand-ball was the name of the game. My hands were a mass of hard-skin ridges and splits from all the roping and sheeting; add wet nitrate fertilizer to the cuts and it brought tears to your eyes.

Not the biggest of cabs but it did have two beds.

____The 1626 Merc was a reliable work-horse, if a little under-powered; it plodded along for two years before being replaced by a Volvo F7, lighter and more lively. In all, I did about three years at Bartrums, leaving to go across the water in search of adventure. The money wasn't better and I don't think I've had a better employer than Bartrums. I've good memories of zig-zagging across the country, driving new roads every day, in search of Vicon farm machinery dealers. In 2006, when I came to Canada, I needed a reference from a company where I had done roping and sheeting so I wrote to Bartrums. They wrote back to say they remembered me and wished me luck. Good to see that they are still going strong.

Herbert Victor Green: HGV Driving Instructor.

Sudbury to Mendlesham Airfield.

____ It was Christmas 2004 when I casually remarked to my father that I had been driving trucks for thirty years.
"Then don't you think that it's about time you got a proper job?" was his witty quick-fire reply.
Since then, ten years have flown by, with the last eight in Canada. A disabling accident on my sixty-first birthday has given me time to cast my mind back to the final quarter of 1974 and my time spent with Herbie Green; the second most influential man in my life, after my father.

____Twenty-one was the age limit for lorry-drivers and I sent off for my provisional licence as soon as possible. November 2nd was the date of my assessment at the Road Transport Industry Training Board's establishment at Mendlesham, Suffolk. A Saturday afternoon, where my first experience of driving an articulated vehicle ended as a miserable failure. Reversing: bad. Maneuvering: bad. Awareness: poor. Signalling: poor. Everything on the report card was either bad or poor except for "Road positioning" which was my only "Good." I honestly thought that the driving school would not want me as a pupil.

____ But the short Winter days were not a popular time for driver trainees and I was offered a three week course starting on the 2nd of December. The price was 180 quid including the fee for one test. Mendlesham RTITB arranged for me to be registered as a driver for Anglia Heavy Haulage; this cut the cost of the tuition by about a third as the company was eligible for a government training grant.

____Every morning of my training started in frosty darkness as I rode my 125 Kawasaki trail bike across Suffolk on B-roads from Sudbury to the driving school in the shadow of the Mendlesham  television transmitter mast. It was on an old World War Two airfield which was perfect for lorry driving learners to practice. There were offices and classrooms with all the servicing of the trucks done at the adjacent premises of Taylor Barnard, a large local haulier.

____The first morning was spent in the classroom; were I found myself paired with Nigel, another 21 year old, and Herbert Green, our instructor. Herbie was the senior instructor and made no secret that he was always given the pupils that needed the full three week course and were least likely to pass first-time. The first afternoon was spent in a Leyland Chieftain with Herbie at the wheel; showing us how it was done and confirming to me that I knew nothing.

____The Chieftain was a 4x2 tractor unit coupled to a 33 foot tandem axle flatbed trailer rated to run at a maximum 28 tonnes, fully-freighted. The gearbox was a constant-mesh six-speed; which Herbie informed us, had been converted from a synchromesh six-speed just to make things harder. We were given the keys and told we could come in as early as we liked to practice early morning maneuvering on the concrete airfield runway. Nigel perfected his reversing whist I thawed out from my pre-dawn motorcycle ride.

____A pattern soon emerged in our training. Nigel would drive from 8 until 10, when we would stop at a café for breakfast. My first shift was 10.30 to 12.30 then lunch. Nigel 1 o'clock to 3, then a quick switch and I drove the last session; back at base at about 5 o'clock. We sat three-abreast in the Leyland day cab with Herbie in the middle. Week 1 and Herbie never stopped talking; telling both of us each and everything we had to do and when to do it. Mirror, signal, gear. Left, right, straight-on. Brake, stop, go, get a move on.

____Week 2 and Herbie cut the instructions down to just left, right and straight-on but was now telling us both about each and every mistake we made through out the day. He still never stopped talking and the annoying thing was that he never missed a mistake. We got away with nothing.
"You don't seem to be enjoying this?" Herbie remarked after one particular mistake riddled session.
"Don't worry, I'll shut you up." I snapped back at him.
"That's the spirit, boy, now lets make progress."

____Slowly, things began to fall into place. Herbie's tuition in reversing finally began to make sense. The endless driving around the Ipswich ring-road and port area gave us enough practice of the test route while the grating gear-changes of the first week were now just clicks. Herbie also expanded on endless transport topics; teaching us not only "How to drive a lorry and pass the test" but also "How to become a lorry-driver." The difference between the two might be too subtle for some people but the stuff that Herbie taught me is still a big part of my everyday driving technique, even after 40 years.

____The man had my respect from "day-one" with his clutch-less changes of the gearbox and in the following weeks I saw just how much respect he commanded amongst the lorry-drivers of Suffolk. There was never a single time in any transport café where Herbie was required to open his wallet; always there was a former pupil on hand to bring over a mug of tea. Every driving session was punctuated with head-light flashing and waving from on-coming trucks as ever-thankful drivers recognised the master. Every wave was acknowledged with a swift karate chop slash of the right arm. Quite disconcerting at first; as Herbie would normally sit motionless in the middle of the cab with his arms folded.

____Freezing fog greeted me as I made my way to Mendlesham on the morning of the test; Friday 20th December 1974. Herbie was  confident that the test centre examiners would not venture out in such weather but we would have to turn-up at our allotted time in order to get another test slot at no extra charge. Sure enough; Nigel's 08.30 test was postponed and we all went for breakfast. My test should have begun at 11 o'clock and I had resigned myself to coming back and taking it after Christmas; but then the wind got up and it started to drizzle. The fog cleared and the test was on; a series of set manoeuvers at the test centre, reversing, slalom, emergency stop. Then the rest of the two hours was spent out and about in Ipswich followed by thirty questions. I honestly thought that I had failed when a car came out of no-where at a round-about and I locked-up all the brakes. After that , the examiner seemed to be taking me back to the test centre and didn't bother with the hill-start test. But he did pass me; mentioning the incident at the roundabout and saying that if there had been a collision he would have been forced to make me take a re-test.

____ Herbie said afterwards that he knew I would pass; I think he was proud that he had managed to teach someone who knew so little and got him through in just three weeks. During the following years; our paths crossed on numerous occasions. I bought the teas and received the right arm swipe when we passed on the road. I will always be thankful for his tuition and his safety orientated tips that helped me so much through five decades of driving.

Living with the Pain of a Dislocated Shoulder

Just about the only driving I am doing these days.

____Sympathy for the Devil.

 "There but for the grace of God, go I." has always been my thought when I see the bad luck suffered by others. But now it's my turn. Your guardian angel steps out of the office for a cigarette and in a heartbeat your life goes from "Fair to middling" down to "Down-right shitty." I could write a piece moaning about my moaning but I'm going to be positive and give some advice on what to do if you find yourself in my situation.

____Do not Google.

The Internet is great and I love it; information at your fingertips on every subject under the Sun. But when it comes to medical issues; maybe there is too much information. Reading all the stuff about your condition will only leave you feeling worse. You may become an expert and understand such phrases as "Multiple fractures of the rotator cusp due to reduction failures." But this will lead to mental health problems; especially when realise that you know more about shoulders than some of the doctors who have treated you.

____Phone a Friend.

With hind-sight; my first mistake in this saga was going to the nearest hospital. A small urban facility that would not have been my destination if I had called an ambulance. Now back at home; I didn't want repeat this by going to the local Steinbach hospital and just hope they could get me back to fitness. I'm sure they would do their best but shoulders are special so why not go to the specialist first? If your local health-care provider fucks it up; you'll end up at a specialist anyway and will have wasted a hell of a lot of time. My good friend and fellow blogger, Bobthedog, suffered serious shoulder damage in an atv/quad-bike accident. Now back to full fitness, a quick call told me that the Pan-Am Clinic in Winnipeg was the best place to go.

____Be a patient Patient.

The Pan-Am started out as a small sports injury clinic attached to the Pan-Am Pool, a facility built in 1967 when the Pan-Am Games were held in Winnipeg. It is now a large well-regarded centre for all types of injuries; with a first-come-first-served hobble-in service. Be prepared for long waits between check-in, exam, x-ray, re-exam; but they do know their stuff and it's not like a normal hospital where you are waiting around with a whole bunch of sick people and are liable to catch something. Life has to be planned around clinic appointments with only total uncertainty controlling the future.

____Buy a 1990's beige Buick Century.

A black Mustang is not the right car for you if you are pottering along at 35 mph in an opiate-induced haze with your left arm strapped to your chest. Some do-gooder will phone it in as a DUI. If it's an old guy in a Buick Century; it's expected. Get used to acting as if you are in God's waiting room. Everything takes time; washing, eating, even sleeping. I've always gone to sleep; laying on my stomach so sitting-up with a pile of pillows behind me is not what my body expects. The drugs don't help either; I doubt if I've had more than four hours of continuous sleep in the last three weeks.

____Shit Happens.

Make sure shit happens. Morphine is a great pain reduction drug but it does have side effects. One is: the Workers Compensation Board don't like it's habit forming qualities and won't authorise prescriptions for it. You have to pay for it. Second: it binds you up. Avoiding one-armed visits to the crapper might seem like a good idea at first; but you will pay for it in the end. The pain in the arse will match the pain in the shoulder. Keep constipation at bay with plenty of fibre and fizzy drinks. Get in a supply of laxative chocolate; even if you don't use it, you can have some fun with it afterwards. You don't want end up sitting on the bog for hours; thinking about the wonderful times when you over-did the truck-stop buffet and it went through you faster than a Ferrari.                  

Dislocation, Dislocation, Dislocation Trip.

Winnipeg to Fort St. John and back to Edmonton - 2697km.

 ____A Monday morning departure with six drops of furniture and four of them are in Grande Prairie, Alberta. They'll be for Wednesday followed by Fort St. John and a tiny bit of Alaska Highway. the re-load is a trailer swap in Edmonton; straight back to the 'Peg. E-Z-P-Z-lemon-squeezy.

Heavy-haul CAT with small sleeper.

 ____I thought I had better retrieve my load-straps before the swap; so did it when killing time in the Flying'J at Sherwood Park. I was just climbing down when WHOOSH; the trailer door whipped round and smacked me on the elbow as I held up my arm to protect myself

At the roundabout; Dawson Creek, British Columbia.

____ I phoned my despatcher; who put my through to the Fort Saskatchewan depot and they sent round Kevin in his pick-up truck. Within an hour, I was at the brand new, state of the art, Strathcona Hospital. Only problem; the place wasn't kitted out with a doctor who knew how to fix dislocated shoulders! After three enthusiastic attempts; they gave it up as a bad job and left me laying in an examination bay for 24 hours. I got given something for pain; but no sleep. I was strapped to an automatic blood pressure testing machine that kicked in every hour with a violent squeeze of my right arm.

 

Open-sided hoods and three drive axles; all the rage in the oil industry transport sector.

____Eventually an ambulance arrived on Friday night; to take me to the University of Alberta Hospital in down-town Edmonton. I felt bad about throwing-up in the ambulance; but I did tell them that I got car-sick and still they wouldn't let me sit in the front. Since the injury happened; I had been given nothing to eat or drink as they wanted to anaesthetise me as soon as they got a chance. At this time; I felt about twice as bad as when it first happened. It did cheer me up when half a dozen ambulance crews sang "Happy Birthday" when the check-in nurse announced  that I had done it on my birthday.

The Everything Truck

____Finally I was admitted to hospital for the first time in fifty years. An I-V drip, the humiliating gown and the snoring of the other guys on the ward. Still no food or sleep; but plenty of morphine. Still nobody to say when my ball and socket joint would be re-united; but plenty of circulating hospital staff to ask the same questions. Again and again. Any allergies? Any heart problems? Any previous dislocations? Drug-user? Diabetic? Alcoholic? But looking at the state of some of my fellow patients; my troubles were minor. I thought I had a good chance of being last-in and first-out.

Cab-over at the Acheson Husky, Alberta.

____Six o'clock on a Saturday afternoon and I had given up any hope of my number being called. Death looked like the only possible release from the pain. Don't believe anything you see in the movies concerning dislocated shoulders. Clint Eastwood in Thunderbolt and Lightfoot: you can't reset bones by tying your arm to a car and slamming the door. Lethal Weapon; the one where Patsy Kensit gets her tits out: Mel Gibson dislocating his shoulder and resetting it just for fun: bull-shit. The pain is horrendous!

____But just before the theatre staff went down the pub; they managed to fit me in. I don't know what the fuck was on the bits of paper I signed. All I know is that when I came round; they had all gone and so had the pain. The cleaners were in charge; with just a porter to push me back to the ward. I spent most of Sunday trying to escape. Getting yourself dressed and walking out is not an option. Eventually I persuaded them that me, going back to my truck in a taxi, by myself was better for them than having me in their hospital. You're supposed to have some one to look after you; that'll be a first.

____So that is the story so far. I'm back at the J with "something for pain." There is a double-manned truck coming up from Winnipeg; I should be on my way home as a passenger in this truck on Thursday; a week later than I thought.



Protection Against Ebola.

5737 km - 7 days

____ Early Sunday morning on the Thanksgiving Weekend in Canada; I was headed East on the Trans Canadian Highway. Listening to the radio news and the story that told of the nurse in Dallas who had caught Ebola from the guy who flew in from Liberia, West Africa. A long way from Manitoba, yet I was carrying 12 pallets of medical equipment destined for the fight against the killer disease. Gowns, gloves and masks donated by Payne Transportation. I was giving thanks that I was only taking the stuff as far as Toronto International Airport.

____ As far as Hearst on the first day; at the end day two and I was parked on the unloading dock of CS World Cargo. Listening to the jets take-off and land just over the fence. GlobalMedic is the Canadian charity that was organising the transfer of the equipment to West Africa and by the look of things; this could become a regular shipment. The rest of the trailer was loaded with furniture and after trouble-free drops at Brantford and St.Catharines; I got a message that Baltimore would be unable to unload me until Wednesday. So, out with the bike and a ride around the lanes of Port Hope and Port Granby, alongside the north shore of Lake Ontario. Then the heavens opened and it rained for the rest trip.

____ Baltimore, then Ottawa and I was empty. A reload from Trois Rivieres in Quebec Province, booked in to load on Thursday afternoon and the trip looked like it would be at least over-running by a day. Empty oil-drums to Winnipeg; bringing back memories of the last empty oil-drum load that turned out to be full of jet fuel. Another story; with it's repercussions. Still the rain came down, Highway 117 through the park to Louvicourt. Running in the rain, running in the dark and running the gauntlet thrown down by the hunters.

____ As long as there is meat in the butcher's shop and meat on the shelves of the supermarkets; I wont be going off into the woods looking for animals that I can shoot. I hope that all the animals get this message and don't come onto the highways looking for me. Stirring-up harmless creatures causes thousands of road-kill and the strike-rate running through Northern Quebec and Ontario is a bad as it gets. A driver needs to concentrate 100%; looking well ahead for any movement. Focussing on the delineators, to see if anything crosses their reflectors. Keeping out of cruise-control. I do see two moose, just before the last of the daylight. Both are standing on the wide margin at the side of the road; watching traffic and hanging around. The most dangerous of all animals in a potential road-kill situation.

____ There are two sorts of animal; those that run away from you and those that run after you. There are two types that run after you; those that want to eat you and those who think that defence is the best form of attack. This last lot are usually big; elephants, rhinos and moose. Moose don't fear much. They don't fear cars or trucks and often they will just hang around at the side of the road watching and eating. Of course, sooner or later, they wander across the road and bang. I saw one victim on the Saturday morning; a heap of fur and flesh with fifty yards of blood-stained highway.

____ Highlight of the trip was the Pipeline Truckstop at Louvicourt. If one restaurant can serve up a ham and cheese omelette with hash-browns, toast and coffee for $6.72 including tax; why can't they all do it. Most places are double that price and not as good.

Moose on the loose.

 

21 Days - 15947 Kilometres - 5 Loads - 4 Time Zones.

Load 1

____ Nine drops spread across a route spanning 2000 miles might be a daunting task if it wasn't for cell-phones, Gps and good old Google maps. But I had done seven of the 9 before and could picture the whole trip in my head. It went very much as planned with the tactic of parking overnight at the next day's first delivery paying good dividends. Sunday night at Milwaukee, Monday at Nashville, Tuesday at Charlotte's place. Empty, Wednesday mid-afternoon at Savannah with only one mishap. Charlotte was one piece short and it didn't turn up until the last drop was off.

Load 2

____ There was not enough time to get across from Savannah to Augusta, so I loaded in the morning before swinging by to see Charlotte and deliver their missing item. Also not enough time to get back into Canada and do some deliveries by Friday night. But it's harvest-time in Quebec and all the farm machinery dealers are open for business on Saturdays. Sherbrooke and Victoriaville get unloaded but not enough time to get to Halifax. I make it to the Blue Canoe Truckstop in Fredericton before the driving hours run out; not a bad place to spend a 36 hour reset. The last pieces get delivered on Monday but when the reload arrives there is not enough time to get it. How many "Not Enoughs" can one trip have?

Load 3

____ Peat-moss out of Inkerman in New Brunswick makes me shudder with the thought of the last load that I hauled out of this place for Big Freight. A freezing cold February night when they loaded icy pallets onto an ice-covered flat-deck. By the time I got to Fredericton; the whole load had slid across the trailer and was hanging 12 inches over the side. I still remember the frantic two hours when I threaded straps through the bottom of the pallets and winched them back into place. I'm grateful to going back with a box-van trailer.

____ When the job came through, I thought I would be able to move the Saturday delivery time to Friday. But its not peat-moss for a plant nursery; its for Lowes, the home improvement chain, and I'm stuck with the appointment at a RDC. This trip has too much time on it but gives me the chance to go into New York City and spend too much money. Then; at 06.30 Saturday morning I arrive at the brand new Regional Distribution Centre at Adairsville, Georgia. Here, I put my Bills of Lading in a plastic container and send it up a plastic pipe. The container comes back with a set of instructions: drop trailer in Bay 4001, park in the bob-tail parking area, wait for phone call to say empty trailer is ready for collection, leave premises. Three hours later, the phone rings and I leave. Obviously the idiots who thought up this system have no regard for the amount of truck-drivers time that they are wasting. I hate RDCs and at this one there isn't even an opportunity to grab some lazy twat by the throat and pull them through a small hole in a re-enforced glass screen.

Load 4 and Load 5.

____ When the reload instructions came, they told of a waiting, loaded trailer at Janesville, Wisconsin, 750 miles north. It may seem strange to load a truck from New Brunswick to Georgia and then run it empty back north. But Payne has a big contract, direct with the manufacturer, to shift a lot of farm machinery to Canada. Empty trucks are always needed to cover whatever loads there are; however sometimes they get it wrong. I'm paid the same, empty and loaded, so after a Sunday morning trailer switch; I'm en route to Edmonton, Alberta. Straight past Winnipeg for a Wednesday morning unloading appointment.

____ With the trip running into its third week, I was looking forward to a quick turn-round, back to Manitoba. But Payne's Fort Saskatchewan depot had other ideas. I spent the rest of the day shunting trailers across Edmonton; making six complete crossings before getting back my original trailer which was now loaded for Peoria, Illinois. Finishing back at the Sherwood Park Flying'J for a second night. Finally getting back to base on Friday.

Kenworth Wrecker.

Inkerman Peat-Moss Packing Plant.

New York Traffic.

Montague Boston Single Speed.

____I’m coming across the border at Houlton, Maine, at two o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon with a load of peat-moss that is to be delivered in Georgia on Saturday morning. Not far to go and a long time to do it. Normally I would be fuming at this waste of my time but I am excited. This is a heaven-sent chance to visit NYCeWheels; the only shop I know that specialises in the sale of folding bicycles.

____It’s situated on the upper eastside of Manhattan; so there is not much chance of rocking-up in an eighteen wheel semi and parking it outside. But there is the Vince Lombardi Service Area at the north end of the New Jersey Turnpike; one of the few redeeming features of the Interstate 95 that runs along the east coast of the US. Maine to Florida. Plenty of truck parking and a park-and-ride bus service across the Hudson River. Shopping and big cities aren’t really my thing but as it is something specific that I am after; then shopping in New York City it is.

____Heavy rain on Wednesday afternoon made me postpone the trip until Thursday. When I was on an early bus full of commuters; $7.50 return. Twenty-five minutes later, I was coming out of the Port Authority Bus Terminal; within a stone’s throw of Times Square. I thought the walk up to 84^th and York would do me good but first; breakfast. Straight past Tiffany’s and into the nearest New York deli-diner. It didn’t have the lively atmosphere portrayed in films and TV shows but you couldn’t fault the frittata.

 

 

____NYCeWheels didn’t open until 11o’clock so I killed some time in a Starbucks with a skinny latte. There is a Starbucks on every corner in Manhattan, a Starbucks in every big store and even some of the larger Starbucks have smaller Starbucks inside them. In contrast; NYCeWheels is one very tiny store; they only sell folding bikes because the place is so small that you need to fold a bike in half if you want to turn it round. But what they lack in square feet; they make up for in customer service.

____There are a million folding bikes of all shapes and sizes for sale on the Internet. But for a big guy like myself; I really need to try before I buy and NYCeWheels is about the only place where you can have test rides on a variety of folders all at the same time. I made a mistake when I bought my 12 inch wheel Strida without knowing if it was the right size. It is a well-engineered, innovative machine; but every time I ride it; I am thinking that the circus is in town and I am the clown on the funny bike.

____I have ridden the 20 inch Dahon/Tern/Giant lookalikes but feel too cramped by the short distance between the handlebars and the seat. I came to try the larger 26 and 28 inch wheel folders but first I went round the block on a Brompton. I was impressed; it was by far the best of the small wheelers that I have ridden. Very nimble, yet felt sturdy. If I was buying a folding bike that needed to be folded very small then, without hesitation, I would go for the Brompton. But I just need something that will go in the back of the car and in the truck; so big wheels will do.

____The Dahon and Tern 26 inch wheelers were well equipped and I would have bought one or the other if I hadn’t gone for a spin on the Montague Boston Single Speed. I instantly liked the old-fashioned minimalist monochrome appearance and when I rode it, well, it just felt right. Comfortable, leaning-forward riding position, very responsive steering and geared at about number 6 on a ten-speed. I usually know within a few pedal-turns if a bike fits me properly and this one ticked all the boxes.

____The shop offered to box and ship the bike to my home address but I decided to pay and ride away. Right out into the lunch-time traffic chaos of New York City; the cycling equivalent of running with the bulls in Pamplona. But the bike was magnificent as we weaved in and out of busses, limos and taxis; zig-zagging across Manhattan. Madison

Avenue, Park Avenue, 5^th Avenue, Broadway and back to Times Square. For twenty-minutes, living life dangerously in the style of a city-centre cycle-courier. And a cycle-courier’s weapon of choice is often a light-weight, flat-barred, skinny-tyred single-speed.

____Did I upset any fellow road-users during my journey? Difficult to say; so many New York drivers sound their horns so much, so often and for no apparent reason. Back at the multi-storey bus terminal; I slipped out the front wheel, folded the frame, slipped it all into its carrying bag and got on the bus back to Vince Lombardi. Mission accomplished. I was worried about being allowed on the bus with the bike, it folds down to about 3 foot by 3 foot and 12 inches wide; which is big enough to take up two seats on its own. But the driver never said anything although I think I would have been turned away if it wasn’t in a bag.

____At over $700, the Montague Boston Single Speed isn't cheap. But nobody regrets buying quality and a hundred dollar bike from Wal-Mart's wouldn’t have run that gauntlet the way the Boston did. Still, it is half the price of a British Made Brompton and there are plenty of folding exotica that will set you back over two grand. I’ve just been for ride along some country lanes in Illinois; very windy conditions and the single-speed gearing gives the rider a good cardio-vascular work-out. Great fun and I hope the first of many fitness sessions out on the road.

 

 

Alpharetta Slow.

____ I have blogged about four years of trips since I started and it has been part of my end of trip routine. I did give it a six month break after my sister-in-law died of cancer. I went back to the UK for her funeral and found that my brother was undergoing chemo-therapy; fighting his own battle against the big C. He hadn't told me about it as he didn't want me to worry. Blogging truck-driving trips didn't seem so important.

____ But I've drifted back into writing and the routine. Get home, make a cup of tea, open mail, put laundry in washer, fire-up laptop, make map, transfer washing to dryer, upload photos from camera, write something, fold clean clothes while still warm, publish blog, drink long tall glass of Bacardi and Coke, watch Netflix until I doze-off.

____ This trip was a little different as I came home to some serious plumbing problems in the basement and the laundry had to wait. As I write this; I am half-way through my next trip and having a log-hours reset in  sunny New Brunswick. It's a job to remember much about the last excursion into the US; except that it was a bit like the old Flying Eagle used-truck-parts loads to Atlanta. Three easy days down,  a six hour unload at Alpharetta, reload Newnan for Winnipeg on the Tuesday. Back in the house; Thursday afternoon as the truck went of  for it's 6-monthly safety inspection.

____Overall Distance: 5454 km.

Righting the waiting wrong.

How many hours of every day?

Is given free and taken away.

From a driver’s hard-earned take-home pay.

The company only earns while the wheels are turning,

So the driver only earns when the company’s earning.

But the hypocrites preach “Safety” a lot.

Whilst “Cents-per-mile” is definitely not.
It's a dangling carrot-donkey situation,
Cause of endless stress and frustration.

A full “Pre-trip” has to be done.

But most expect it done for fun.

Log-books should be neat and correct,

But manage your hours to good effect.

Stop on amber and never speed,

But “Hammer-down” when they feel the need.

Will it end with an on-board recorder?

Will it put this mess in order?

With truckers paid for every hour,

From log-on till their evening shower.

Four-Way Flashers In The Rain.

____ Getting out of a warm bed to go home at 5-thirty on a Sunday morning is not the best way to start a trip. After getting my stuff together and bob-tailing halfway across Winnipeg looking for a trailer; it was 10.30 before I got into cruise control, eastbound on the Trans-Canada Highway. Twelve hours later, I was crawling back into bed at Longlac; 1000 kilometres away in the Canadian Shield.

Still standing; Sturgeon River bridge with beams delivered by Flying Eagle Heavy Haul.

____ A similar stint behind the wheel on the Labour Day Holiday Monday put me at the King City On-Route motorway service area, just north of Toronto. After battling with the returning cottage-country traffic from Muskoka, I was ready to battle the commuter rush in the morning. Unloaded, begrudgingly, at Mister Grumpy's furniture distribution company, I had a short wait before the reload at Ajax came through. Wall-plaster to be delivered to Fort Mackay, Alberta, by Friday. I advised that it would be Friday afternoon and the office came back and told me that Monday would be fine.

Mack with solar panels on the hood and roof of the sleeper.

____Then the heavens opened as I headed north out of Toronto in busy afternoon traffic. Why does heavy rain make people drive along with their four-way flashers working? I had slowed down because I couldn't see and was being overtaken by the four-way flashers! Maybe it's their way of saying, "I am a hazard."

____ New Liskeard to the Time Zone Plaque at Savanne on Wednesday had me thinking that I would be home by mid-afternoon on Thursday. Then BEEP; a satellite message asking if I could deliver on Friday; the load was urgent [again]. Mid-day Saturday was the best I could offer; after I'd eased-up when it looked like it was going to be Monday. Hammer down and I was at Syncrude's truck-staging area with an hour to spare.

You don't have to be mad to work here.

____ Now, every product taken onto the Syncrude site has to have an identity analysis data-sheet and my fire-proof wall-plaster did not have the necessary clearance to gain entry. So although it was urgent, they turned me away at the gate. Never mind, a parcel delivery company in Fort McMurray agreed to take it and I was empty by three o'clock on Saturday afternoon; ready to run down to Edmonton for what was left of the Weekend.

Syncrude, Mildred Lake.

____ Who the hell finds reloads for dry freight vans out of the Oilsands? Payne Transportation does and it was a good job they told me about it before I headed-off south. Used Caterpillar parts from the dealer at Fort Mackay; load Monday 08.00. So, two nights in the dirty old town of Fort McMurray; with it's complete lack of driver facilities and it's sky-high prices. To think, I could have had two nights in my own bed. It rained all Sunday with a certain dampness also in the cab; as if someone had been pissing-up my back.

Big old shovel at the free-to-enter Oilsands Interpretative and Discovery Center.

____ And the bloody Caterpillar bits only went to Edmonton! Then it was up to Westlock for some of the plastic grain bags. Three farms in Saskatchewan; thank heavens for cell-phones or I would still be looking for them now. But you do meet some nice people on the farms of the Prairies; so different from those jobs-worth shits in the oil industry. The whole trip ended-up with 8686 kilometres in 11 days; so it wasn't too shabby after-all. Except that it snowed on the way home and it's a sign that Winter is just around the corner.

Old Oilsands bulldozer with radiator on the roof; at Dicovery Center.