A dip into the past

It was often said that once you have had a taste of lorry driving for companies, you might like to buy a truck and become self employed. It was considered a natural progression to become an owner driver. I was often asked this, and my answer was always the same. I love driving a truck, I am happy to be paid to do that. I have no ambitions to own one, and deal with all the headaches that come with that. 

Half way through my driving career, it spanned 32 years, I left my job to become self employed, and hire out my services to anybody that needed a temp driver. I became my own boss and started looking for work. A one woman driving agency if you like. 

I was well known at the time, having had lots of exposure in the transport press. Magazines, newspapers, and radio all wanted stories from a woman working in transport. I was able to milk this by contacting them announcing my transition from employed driver to freelance work. A few enquiries came in and I got a start on the ladder. 

I chose my trading name, joined the local Small Business Club, and had a stand at a business convention at a posh hotel. On display were my advanced driving certificates, and those where I had attended courses for roping and sheeting, carrying hazardous goods, and working with fork lift trucks and hi ab cranes. There wasn't any job that I wouldn't train for. All good for my CV.  

Eventually I was approached by a female owner driver, she had her own truck on a Rugby Cement contract, based at Barrington near Cambridge. She wanted someone to driver for her while she went on holiday. You can't park up a truck and trailer which cost near on £100,00. It has to work, to make the repayments. 

I went to her house, stayed three days and went out with her to learn how to discharge 26 tonne of powdered cement. She had a Volvo F10 which was a smallish cab and easy to drive. Janet went on holiday for three weeks, I stayed in her house, looked after her cats, and drove her lorry. 

It worked out well. The work was Monday to Friday and I could go home at the weekends. There were four depots in the Rugby Cement chain. When the other drivers saw that I could do the job I got more requests, my diary started filling up. Eventually other work dropped off when I took on more tanker work. I was self employed for seven years. 

I bought a small caravan to tow behind my car, and use it as a base whichever depot I was working at. One day I had a disaster. Rugby Cement was pushing me to hurry up and get back for another load. I counted up the hours I had already done that day, and thought I might be able to get back within the driving time I had left. I arrived at the block factory at Pollington, eager to get in and discharge the load. One hour to get there, one hour to unload, one hour to get back. I might just be able to do it. 

I saw the gate to enter the yard. For a split second all I could thing about was hurry up, straight to the unloading point, hook up the hose to the silo, get the pressure up in the tank, open the valve, and in 20 minutes I would be out of there, job done. 

It didn't quite work out like that. In that split second I hit the gate post with the side of the trailer. Bent all the sideguard, ripped off a wheel arch, what a mess. I was devastated. I rang my depot. You know that load you had planned for me, well I won't be doing it. Luckily the accident had had not damaged the controls and I could still pressurise the tank and discharge the load.   

At first I blamed the office because they put pressure on me to hurry up, you must come back to reload. Later I had time to think about it. Hang on a minute, who's hands were on the steering wheel, not theirs. Who was sitting in the cab, I was, not them. I gave in to the pressure, it was 50% my fault. this was a hard lesson to learn. I should have said 'no' when first requested. But of course I always wanted to do a good job for the owner drivers who had trusted me to look after their lorry. 

I had to take the trailer to a repair shop in Lincolnshire and sit with it for three days while they put it right. I have to say that the drivers were great. They didn't drop me, they said, what do you think we pay insurance for. It was a relief. I carried on working there. Eventually I was getting all my work from The South Ferriby depot, which prompted me to move to North Lincolnshire. When I eventually changed jobs and went back to being an employed driver, I had to give them a years notice so they could find someone else to take my place. 

Whatever vehicle they had I could drive it.  Foden, complicated gearbox though the newer models had some of the problems ironed out. 

Mercedes. Dead easy, semi automatic, preselect the gears. There is a sad tale about this one. Harold was on his way out one morning along the M62. He had a heart attack at the wheel and the lorry ended up on it's side in a ditch. Sadly he had passed away. We were all devastated. It was a massive recovery process to lift lorry and trailer, plus 26 tonne of cement. 

Volvo. Bigger cab. like sitting in an armchair. very comfortable. 

Mr Lewis loved his ERF. He polished it without fail every weekend. Difficult gearbox but I mastered it. 

Another awkward Foden gearbox, but I mastered it. Bill Jenner let me take his vehicle to a truck show. I used it as a backdrop to set up the Lady Truckers Club stand.  

Rugby Cement at South Ferriby has been closed for a while. It was bought out by the French company, Cemex, I believe. I moved on to do agency work. 

Looking out of the window on this Tuesday Morning I see the sun has chased away the rain. The sky is blue, let's hope it stays that way for the rest of the day. 

Toodle pip.   ilona