Welcome to the Old Timers Forum cannonhaul and I for one can’t wait to see some more of your great photos. 
If you look on Page 9 of this thread then you will see that I mentioned Tiger Tyres in Pirot, you might even remember seeing that white wooden policeman who was always stood in front of the tunnel on the way down. 
Hi Efes, who could forget all those Zoll platers or “The Zoomies” as they were sometimes referred to, on their way down to Turkey or to Baghdad. And I wonder how many of those cars ended their journey in the customs compound at Kapikule because the driver could not afford to pay the import duty. 
Hello Sandway, I mentioned that my first trip to Izmir was one that will always stay with me so I would like to share it with you or anybody else who may be interested, so here it is. 
It was probably the first week in November in 1980, I had been home for four days and phoned the office to see if they had anything for me. I was told to come into the yard in Stockport the following morning to pick up my paperwork and then I had to go and load a trailer in North Wales for Turkey. I was also told that after I had loaded that I was to make my way down to Dover and to phone our agent in Istanbul when I had cleared customs at the Turkish border at Kapikule.
The following day I went down to the yard in Stockport where I was given a short briefing on what I had to do. I picked up my truck along with a tilt trailer and collected all my paperwork which I checked to make sure that it was all in order. We usually received £500 running money back then which should have been plenty to get me there and back with a bit to spare.
After I had arrived at the Courtaulds factory in Greenfield near Flint, I was told by the man in the gatehouse to open up the back of the tilt and to reverse straight onto the loading bay. I was loaded within the hour and I climbed into the back of the tilt to make sure that the load was secure. The load consisted of bales of cloth and if I remember correctly each bale weighed between 250kg to 300kg so there would have been sixty bales stacked three high.
The last four bales that were loaded were marked with a large black cross to show that they had to be delivered to Istanbul, the rest of the load was for Izmir on the Aegean Sea coast. After I had laced up the tilt I headed off down to Dover and managed to make the 01.30 freighter the following morning over to Zeebrugge.
The trip down through Europe and through the Communist Block was as far as I can remember uneventful but that’s not to say that it probably wasn’t interesting as every trip was different. It’s just that I can’t remember every thing in detail about every trip that I did and I think that it probably took me five days to get to the Turkish border as five to six days was usually about normal.
I arrived at Kap Andreveo which was the Bulgarian side of the border late in the afternoon so it was the following day by the time that I had completed my paperwork at Kapicule which was on the Turkish side.
It must of been mid afternoon on the following day after I had arrived at Kapikule, by the time that I had finished doing my Turkish customs. The seal on my trailer, which had been put on in Dover was broken by the Turkish customs man, I unlaced the back of the tilt and a scruffy looking kid in a large old dirty boiler suit climbed into the back to have a rummage around for anything that looked illegal. The usual obligatory payment for this was two packets of Marlboro cigarettes before the customs man would usually reseal me but on this occasion the customs man didn’t ask so I didn’t offer.
This was probably because there were two Turkish Military Policeman watching him as Turkey had been involved in a coup detat only two months before and the army seemed to be everywhere.
The M.P.’s wearing their white steel helmets were clearly visible throughout the customs compound and appeared to be at most of the major road junctions and bridges at the time. In my opinion, the army certainly improved the customs procedures at Kapikule for a while but when they were returned to their barracks the corruption in the customs went back to normal.
Doing your customs at Kapikule was always a hassle and it was much easier and a lot quicker if you used the local agent who was called Young Turk who only charged about three or four quid for his services.
There wasn’t usually a problem if you were going home empty, you just
had to queue in a few sweaty smoked filled rooms for a couple of hours but if you were coming into Turkey and you had a problem then Young Turk was usually able to sort it out for you, for a price of course and it was always a case of the bigger the problem the higher the price was to fix it. As both of my deliveries were in Turkey I obviously didn’t have to pay ‘Transit Tax’ which saved me a big chunk of my running money.
After the trailer had been resealed I pulled over towards the exit gate and parked up while Young Turks ‘runner’ followed the customs man back into the customs building.
I was reading The Bubbleman’s, Scrapbook Memories thread a couple of days ago and he posted an article about The Middle East’s First Salvage Run. Well, behind the customs buildings at Kapic there were a few fields which were filled with what could only be described as hundreds of different kinds of vehicles. From old and new cars and caravans to campervans, trucks, plant equipment and a couple of bulldozers on low loaders and what always stuck out to me was a red English double decker bus that was parked there. The first time that I went through Kapikule I thought that the field behind was a scrap yard although the vehicles weren’t piled on top of each other but they were all parked up very closely together. I could see that there were a couple of British trucks and trailers in there that looked like they had been abandoned so I asked another British driver why they were parked over there.
He told me that the hundreds of vehicles in the field had all been confiscated by the Turkish customs men for various reasons. Drug smuggling was probably the main cause for vehicles leaving the country but not being able to pay the import tax by the importer, having suspected false paperwork or even being involved in an accident in the local area with a foreign vehicle might have you being towed up to the compound. Once the vehicle had been put in there then there was a 99% chance that the owner would not be getting it back.
At the time I thought this drivers explanation was completely bizarre but it turned out to be absolutely true and with every trip that I passed through there the rows of vehicles seemed to get longer and longer until eventually they just disappeared over the hill in the distance.
Taken from the Internet.
I walked out of the customs compound, past the policeman and the army guards who had probably seen me get out of my truck as they didn’t even bother to ask for any identification.
Young Turks office was only about 100 hundred yards away on the left of the main road outside the customs compound. There was room to park a few trucks on the road outside of the office but if the Traffic Police came along blowing their whistles they would sometimes fine you so as it had happened to me once before I decided that it wasn’t worth taking the chance.
I walked into Young Turks office and told them my companies name and the trailer number. He said that my paperwork would be here soon and greeted me with the customary greeting of “would you like a cup of Chai” which always came in a small glass with five or six sugar lumps, always without milk. Young Turk would let you send a telex or make a phone call to the U.K. so I asked him if I could call Taci Kochman who was agent in Istanbul. I told Taci that I had cleared at Kapic and he told me to drive down to the stadium in Istanbul where Saladin, who was one of his employees would meet me at 8 a.m. the next morning and help me to clear customs. Then Saladin would go with me to the factory where I had to off load the four bales of textiles and when I had finished I was to return to the stadium and get a taxi round to Taci’s office.
It always seemed a bit strange having to clear customs at the border, then having to be resealed again before I was allowed to drive the 250 kilometres down to Istanbul so that I could finally clear customs but that was the way it was and we just did as we were told, ……… most of the time.
Young Turks runner arrived after about twenty minutes with all my paperwork which I checked to make sure that my T.I.R. carnet had been stamped in the right place and to see if the correct page had been removed. I payed the bill, collected my receipt which also included the cost of the telephone call and said good bye.
I walked back to the truck and on the way out of the compound the policeman at the gate stopped me and asked to see my passport. After a quick glance he gave it back to me and then went around to the back of the truck to check the seal, then he waved me through the barrier.
As this was late in November it started to get dark just after 4 o‘clock in the afternoon and the cold winter nights were already creeping in. I made my way towards the first town on the T.I.R. route which was Edirne but just before the town there was an old stone bridge that we had to use which had been built hundreds of years before, probably in the time of the Ottoman Empire or it may of even been the Roman Empire. The bridge wasn’t wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other so you had to wait until the bridge was clear. It was not unusual for somebody coming the other way with a donkey cart to enter the bridge from the other side while you were already halfway across. Next to the main road as you passed through Edirne was a magnificent Mosque and I had read somewhere that it was famous for having 999 windows. The Sultan or whoever built it wanted 999 windows so that people would always remember something about his great Mosque. I never stopped to count all the windows but I did manage to take a photo on my way home on a later trip.
The Bridge At Edirne.
The Mosque in Edirne.
As you know Brian, although Istanbul was only 250 kilometres away it often took between four or five hours to get there depending on the time of day. It wasn’t really that hilly although there were a couple of long hills on the way but it was the problem of getting stuck behind a couple of Tonkas or a tractor that really slowed you down, especially if you were driving a right hand drive truck.
I had decided to park up for the night at the Londra Camping as I knew that I would be able to get a hot shower there and a decent feed. I probably joined some other drivers who were on their way home for a couple of beers and made the point of not getting involved with an Efes Control as I had already set my alarm for six o’clock the next morning.
At 6 a.m. I woke up and after getting dressed and having a quick walk around the truck to make sure that everything was O.K. I set off and headed towards the stadium. The stadium was actually a sports stadium which I think belonged to the Besiktas Football Club. All the foreign trucks that were clearing customs there used to pull up and park on the stadium car park. It was only about three hundred yards to walk down to the sea front and within walking distance to an ancient Turkish baths which I visited on two occasions. There were quite a few restaurants and cafes close by and it only cost about fifty pence to get a taxi to The Galata Bridge or to Kochman’s office.
It took less that half an hour at that time of the morning to get to the stadium and as soon as I arrived there I got back into bed. Just before 8 a.m. I got up and put the kettle on and it wasn’t long before Saladin came knocking on the door.
The Stadium, customs parking area. Pictures from the Internet.
The road next to the stadium.
Saladin was a name that I had heard of before because in the sixties the British Army used to use the Saladin scout car which was made by Alvis and then I found out that it was actually named after a great Muslin warrior called Saladin.
Now I had never met Taci’s employee before but all the other drivers who had jokingly called him Salad Tin for some reason. He spoke very little English so much of our conversation was in pigeon German but we got on quite well with one another.
Saladin took all my paperwork and disappeared for about an hour, when he returned he told me to wait where I was and that he would return just before midday.
When he came back he was accompanied by a couple of customs men who checked the seal that had been put on at Kapikule and then they told me to unlace the back of the tilt and to drop the tailboard. One of them climbed into the back and then quickly climbed out saying “alles is gut, finish”. It had taken me twice as long to unlace the tilt than it had for them to do their inspection but now I was able to go along to my first drop.
Saladin went with the customs men to their office so that they could stamp the paperwork and when he came back we set off through some of the very narrow streets in Istanbul. He was giving me instructions of where to turn and where to carry on and on one occasion he had to get out and assure me that there was just enough room to get past some of the parked cars on a sharp corner.
The factory where we were delivering to was next to the old city walls and I had to park in the street next to a set of big old wooden doors. Saladin got out to organise the offloading and came back about ten minutes later with half a dozen of the workers.
Now I know that this was along time ago so I can’t really remember if one of the customs men had followed us to the factory or not. It now seems strange that having done the customs about an hour earlier that I would have to do customs again and then be resealed but back then we did a lot of things that seemed strange at the time. Something at the back of mind is now telling me that I did have to be resealed again because when we arrived in Izmir we parked up in the customs compound.
I opened up the back of the tilt, dropped the tailboard and pointed to the four bales with the black crosses which had to come off. There was no messing about, the unloaders just pushed the bales of cloth straight off the back of the trailer onto the road. Somebody gave a clear signature on the C.M.R. and we were soon off back to the stadium.
Saladin had already told me that he would be travelling with to Izmir, I didn’t mind as there were two bunks in the S reg, column change M.A.N. 16:280 which was named Sandra, after the girl who worked on the reception desk in the office.
We parked back at the stadium and then we got into one of the many taxies that were available to take us down to Kochman’s office which was next to the cruise terminal, not far from the old wooden Galata Bridge.
Kochman’s office was on the ninth floor of a very old building which had fantastic views of the Bosphorus Straights and looked directly across to The Harem, a place where we also used to park up. The building was probably constructed in the early 1900’s and it was full of character. As you came in from the street you walked into a huge hall which I would describe as dilapidated Art Deco as it looked like a lot of restoration work was long over due. On the ground floor there were a variety of shops including, spice shops, leather shops selling all types of leather and suede jackets, a stall that made fresh cold orange juice with hundreds of oranges piled up in a huge pyramid shape, suitcase shops and a café. Straight away my nostrils were filled with the fragrance of aromatic spices and the smell of barbecued Lamb Kofties and mint. On the ground floor of the hall there was a large marble staircase but what always made me look twice and made me feel that I was going back in time was a lift which must have been installed when the building was being built. It was one of those that had the double concertina gates, with two big aspidistras in very large vases at the entrance. Inside the lift sat on a stool was an operator who wore a shabby looking black suit and used to wear a red Fez. The lift went up and down in a cage and I always expected Inspector Hercule Poirot to get in at the next floor, he certainly wouldn’t have felt out of place in there.
Most of the offices in the building were connected to shipping agents and on the top floor was Taci’s office, his right hand man who was called The Colonel got up from his desk to greet me. He was actually a retired Colonel from the Turkish Army and all the British drivers who had ever met him all said the same thing, The Colonel was a gentleman. It was alleged that he knew all the right people in all the right places, he certainly was an asset to have whenever you came up against Turkish bureaucracy.
The Colonel picked up the phone and called the café downstaires to ask them to send up what we called the Chai Wallah. Taci was in his office on the phone and when had finished his call he also came out to welcome me.
He asked if there were any problems at the factory where we had just delivered and I told him no. Then he asked, would it be possible to take Saladin with you to Izmir as I would like him to visit a customer of ours. I told him that I didn’t mind and that I had already looked at the map but I wasn’t sure which was the best way to go. Saladin knows the way said Taci, he will look after you, then The Colonel added just make sure that you don’t end up on the military road. He then said something to Saladin in Turkish which I presumed was the best way to go.
A young boy walked into the office carrying a large silver plated teapot on a large silver plated tray with several small glasses and a bowl of sugar lumps. He put the tray down on the desk and started pouring the tea out. The Colonel gave him back some empty glasses and a Turkish Lire banknote and the boy left the office.
Taci asked when do you think that you be in Izmir Steve and I said that as it was then about three o’clock that I would drive through the night and be in Izmir the first thing in the morning.
Taci and The Colonel stared at me in disbelief and I knew that I had said the wrong thing. You have to go to Izmir Steve said Taci not Izmit.
I knew where Izmit was as I had passed through there before, it was about an hours drive over the other side The Bosphorus Bridge. As you were heading towards Bolu you could see some fantastic views of The Sea Of Marmara over on your right as you started to climb inland.
I also knew where Izmir was as I had seen it on the map, even though I had never been there before I had worked it out that it was about 600 kilometres away and if I did a late night tonight and an early start tomorrow then I could be there about 8 a.m.
Taci said be careful, the roads are not very good and if you brake down at night then you might not be able to get any help until the morning. I assured them that I would be O.K. but my naivety was certainly beginning to show.
The view from Taci’s office.
