Afternoon Efes. Glad to hear you are keeping in touch with George. We may not have seen eye to eye but he was one of our small group of drivers and I am pleased that he was. Certainly a character. How is he? Still quaffing the coke no doubt. A lot of us reckoned that stuff would kill him years ago. Glad he has proved them wrong. In the attached photo it looks like he may have a camera in his hand. Next time you speak to him would you ask him if he has any old photos? If so perhaps he would let you have them to copy and post on here.
I was thinking of the phrase Efes used a few posts back. âThe boys turn right at Ankara the men go straight on to Iranâ. Iâd heard that phrase before and maybe it was true when Asian Transport went that way and many others in the early 70âs. Weâve all seen pictures of Tahir and of lorries battling snow and unmade roads but by 83 it was a doddle. Ok, if the weather was bad any route can be pain but heading into Iran was actually better than some other destinations such as Iraq as there were hardly any queues at Bazargan and the Turkish roads across northern Turkey were very quiet and on the whole, well maintained.
Iâm not sure what month it was in 83 that I made the trip to Tehran or more precisely to the âThe Tehran International Trade Fairâ. It was four years after the revolution and still not many western european lorries were heading that way. I was sat in the Telex in Ankara with a group of drivers and a beer in hand when one of the OHS drivers I knew asked were I was going. I told him Tehran and he exclaimed that it was a few years since heâd been that way. He also pointed out the obvious that I should enjoy the beer as there wouldnât be any in Iran. After leaving Ankara the only problem I had was a puncture on the super cube trailer I was dragging behind me but I found an âOtto lasticâ where a couple of young boys repaired it for me whilst I drank cay with their boss.
The border has always been known simply as Bazargan. However, Bazargan is the Iranian side. The Turkish side is Gurbulak and thats where the famous âhole in the wallâ was to be found. The hole was the exit from the lorry parking area. Twelve lanes down to one can be a problem when its busy but it wasnât a problem any more when I went through the border. Drivers love to expound any little myth and I have heard of legendary battles to get through the âhole in the wallâ to exit Turkey and enter Iran. Once through you drop down the hill to the Iranian customs post. Neither the Turkish nor the Iranian border posts were places you would stay longer than necessary and I was lucky. There were very few lorries about and I sailed through. Most of the lorries that were there were Turkish or Iranian with a sprinkling of Bulgies and F Troop. I had completed the paperwork and was sat in the lorry about to head of down to Tabriz when there was a knock on the door, standing there was a youngish looking lad. I wound the window down and said hello. He asked if I was going to Tehran. He was english. The last thing I wanted was a passenger, I hesitated and I think he read my mind. âIâm a lorry driver, my lorries over thereâ he said. I looked and I could just make it out parked the far side of some Turkish lorries. He was driving a four wheeler removals lorry. âI have a load of furniture for the British Embassy in Tehranâ he said. âDo you mind if I follow you as its my first time out hereâ. âOf courseâ I said and with that we set off together.
The run down to Tabriz was straightforward and I had decided to drive into the night as I wanted to be in Tehran late next day. As we entered Tabriz we were stopped at a military check point. I was told to open the passenger door and a rough looking soldier climbed in and started to ransack the cab. I shouted at him to be careful, the young captain (or whatever) in charge asked rather abruptly if I was Bulgarian. I said no, British. He didnât understand. After we had gone through Romanian, German, Austrian and a few other nationalities it finally dawned on him that I was indeed British. He looked at me incredulously! âBritishâ he said. âYesâ I shouted back. There was then a look of shock and panic on his face. Iâm sorry" he said, âIâm sorryâ and with that he shouted at the soldier in the cab who immediately beat a hasty retreat. I was to find out in the next month or so that us Brits were well liked and respected by many Iranians but they, almost to a man, blamed the BBC World Service for the success of the revolution by broadcasting reports of every little demonstration in every little town in Iran so inciting even bigger demonstrations which finally brought down the Shah.
The next evening found us in Tehran. I was heading for the Esteghlal Hotel, the old Hilton, where I had a room booked. The hotel is situated on the southern side of the Northern Expressway in the very north of the city and about a km from the Fairground. The driver in his removals lorry had to contact the embassy for instructions so decided to follow me to the hotel. I got us lost just after the Azadi Square roundabout. This is the famous roundabout just past the airport on the way into Tehran but we finally arrived about 2100hrs. It had taken me 13 days to get to Tehran which is what I had allowed. I left the removals lad outside the hotel where he kipped for the night. He was going to ring the embassy from the hotel in the morning. I didnât see him again so assume all went well.
My first Middle East trip in January 1979 was to Baghdad - but not for Promotor in this instance - but for Star Transport in Crowborough owned by the Taylors (TayTran?). Travelling via Greece through Ipsala over the floating bridge that moved drunkenly up and down as the truck passed over it. A rather unpleasant feeling⌠And the shock of arriving into the chaos that was Turkey - something Iâd never experienced before.
There has been heavy snow in Turkey and I stopped at a parking more or less opposite the Londra that had open air showers with cold water. I felt so dirty by then - the last shower had been in Austria - that I even had a cold shower outside in the snow⌠Probably the most unpleasant shower I ever had - with the one possible exception of a car factory in Pristina which had warm water but the bowl in which you stood was filled with litter and â â â ends⌠I had to balance in the shower edges to avoid the filth. I was loading car window winders for Vauxhall cars - or possibly shock absorbers (maybe that was a different trip?)âŚ
Turkish roads were almost empty as Turkey had run out of fuel. The Londra opposite had only a few trucks there as foreign trucks transiting Turkey had virtually stopped. The few UK lorries I met were those coming home from Iran which has just had a revolution and all trucks were held up on the borders for 3 months in the deep snow of winter. Many had run out of fuel to keep warm as it wasnât available from Turkey and no one could get into Iran to get it⌠I had a very large belly tank of red diesel and so didnât need to stop except to eat⌠All went smoothly until stopping at Biricik to eat. Here whilst eating my really delicious meal (good food in Turkey) a man came to my table with a large meat cleaver that he slammed down (his idea of a joke I discovered). He was selling hand made kitchen knives. I bought a set which I use even today.
However, outside trouble was brewing, around the truck was a small army of men with tractors demanding fuel which was no longer available locally⌠The angry crowd was getting very excited indeed and it was all I could to squeeze past them and drive off in great haste⌠Driving without stop to Habur/Zacko border during which time an attempt was made to force the lorry off the road⌠Very unpleasant indeed. Odd that I even felt relaxed entering Iraq after Turkey where the water pump I was delivering went to Tikrit.
Meeting the trucks stuck on the Iran/Turkey border reminds me of a fellow - he looked like the wild man of Borneo - I met who has been trapped in Afghanistan with his truck his wild looking wife and a tiny baby when they had their war. I saw his truck first while they were heading home towards the UK. He had an open flatbed trailer with the baldest tyres youâve ever seen in your life (how he got through to Germany amazes meâŚ) and no lights at all. Every panel of the lorry had been crushed. Heâd apparently rolled it 3 times in Afghanistan as all the bridges had been blown and heâd had to ford the riversâŚ
I canât imagine heâd have passed the UK Waterguard with a truck in that state. Shame I donât remember his name. Whoever he was he really had amazing resources to survive and bring back what was left of his truck.
Talking of showers, when I was doing the food relief to Poland during the Solidarity campaign I remember the first warm showers after Poland were at Helmstadt. Travelling back with John Preece (where is he now? He went to Australia but did he come back? Anyone know?) when having showers if you turned off the hot water suddenly the neighbouring shower cubicle was doused with scalding water or conversely switching the hot water on full doused the neighbour with cold water⌠What fun could be had⌠John was having a shower and decided to give me some of this âtreatmentâ. However, he didnât realise Iâd finished and he was in fact torturing some German driver. I was combing my hair as I heard the resultant screams from the cubicle I had just vacated⌠I could hear John laughing his head off until a very deep and threatening voice in German was heardâŚ
Efes. Yes, whatever happened to John Preece. Action is definitely needed to track down this fugitive. So here goes!!
WANTED (preferably alive).
JOHN PREECE.
Last bit of hearsay had him in Tasmania 1990 ish.
Distinguishing marks. Big and Ugly. Talks with an Australian accent especially when telling his Bruce and Sheila jokes.
Occupation. Lorry driver, drinker and general all round funny man (unless depressed).
If anyone seeâs this man approach with extreme caution. He is well known for getting workmates drunk and locked up in jail. He may also fry you a breakfast. Avoid this as his eggs are always well out of date. If he wants to bath with you ask him to keep his shorts on. If you want to go a few rounds with him in the ring thats fine but wear your aftershave. Heâs a poser and will lay down at the first sniff of scent. Do not go to sea with him as his hero is Captain Ahab of Moby â â â â fame. If you do, watch out for his harpoon.
Finally. Do not take your donkey anywhere near him unless youâre happy with it ending up with three legs. Iâm sure I wasnât deaf until I did a trip to Kurdistan with him.
i was somewhere with John by the edge of an open-air swimming pool in Germany admiring the view and quaffing a few beers as was our wont. Where or why I no longer remember. Possibly at the US base at Chiemsee in Bavaria which was a great place to gatecrash - but for which US$ were required to buy stuff - for a cheap meal and swimming pool. I bet itâs harder to gain entry these days.
John recounted a story of when he was working with Chick Steadman and how the foreign waitress spoke to them in a foreign language, French I think, and Chick asked âwhat did she say?â John said that the waitress had asked him âif he was on holiday with his dad?â - to which Chick took naturally umbrage⌠John laughed his laugh and said that Chick took himself very seriously. At that moment our young German waitress reappeared to ask if we wanted more beers. Naturally I took the opportunity of explaining that I was on holiday with my dad⌠Johnâs face turned crimsonâŚ
I always enjoyed my trips with John⌠Great chap!
Saw this outfit in Western France yesterday. Wanted to take some closeups but blo-dy battery went flat on my camera. I like the way the back of the cab has been cut back at an angle to get the first unit on.
Pictured in the Pyrenees yesterday this big boy wonât be happy till he sees the first snowflake. Think he may have to wait a while though as it was 27C.
Saw this fine old French lady, no not her with the phone stuck in her ear, she wasnât bad though, in a lay-by and still earning her keep. The coffee and croissants were great but something to do with the vehicle didnât seem quite right. There were corner steadies fitted. Well, I suppose it needed a bit of extra stability for the job it was doing. Donât want to spill coffee over the customers. But it still didnât add up. There was a tarpaulin thrown over something at the front? Then it all fell into place! It had been adapted to sit on a caravan chassis. There were centre wheels/axle hidden by a box and the main wheels would be removed when it had to be transported to another site.
Seen at the entrance to the Bielsa Tunnel in the High Pyrenees one of those small, mainly Polish, eastern European lorries, on its way to Spain. You just canât get away from them can you! They are everywhere.
In my last post I mentioned the little Polish lorries flitting about all over europe. Since then I hear the Frenchies have got there croissants in a twist over this and have decided to fight back. To this end they have commissioned a company in the Pyrenees to start trial runs over the mountains and into Spain. It seems its all being done on a bit of a âshoestringâ budget. I suppose if the Scots did the same it would be done on a âjockstrapâ budget.
I have attached some photos of the French vehicle being used for the first six months of the contract. It will however have skiâs attached for when the snow arrives later.
Some more pics from France. This time all taken on the N10 between Bordeaux and Poitiers. Possibly the longest stretch of road in France where lorries are banned from overtaking. The ban was introduced 3 or 4 years ago due to the vast numbers of lorries using this free road. The ban was observed almost 100% the first year but gradually since then drivers have openly flouted the law.
I was parked up for lunch just off the N10 in France near the entry/exit to the lorry park âMaison Blanchesâ. Its a completely different world to what it used to be. To start with a huge canopy has been built so the lorry and driver can be parked up in the shade. WIFI is provided so they can keep in touch with home. Thereâs a restaurant and a shop selling the latest dishes so the hard done by driver can watch the latest soaps and a lorry wash and filling station as well as showers and toilets.
HOW DID WE MANAGE YEARS AGO!!!
One thing that really struck me though was the fantastic kit these drivers have today. My Scania was great but some of this new stuff definitely put me and mine in the stone age. I took some pictures of lorries leaving the site. Most of these were average but others were mind blowing. I was only there for a short time. I could have stayed all day.
Not sure who was driving the lorry. Cant tell from the photo. It seems as if it was on its way back from Baghdad and was in Yugo when the incident happened. I know John Preece had an identical accident but I thought he was in Bulgaria or Rummo when it happened.
A few weeks back I related the little story of a trip I did to Tehran in 83. Iâve since found out it was September and it had been many years since a Promotor lorry had been in that âneck of the woodsâ. Although I had been heavily involved in Iraq and other destinations in the Middle East, hauling both general freight and doing exhibition work, it was my first trip to Iran. However, during the next six years it seemed like my second home but so did Baghdad as I was there so often as well. I was in Tehran as Promotor had organised a large group of British companies to exhibit at the 1983 Tehran International Trade Fair. My job was to take the first trailer down loaded with exhibits and to handle and co-ordinate all the onsite work. As we also handled the travel arrangements for the exhibitors I found myself out at Mehrabad airport late at night on more than one occasion. Dave Stagg, our ex transport manager and by then a director of the company would fly out before the show started to head up the team. When I say team, there was only Dave and myself from the UK but we had many Iranians working for us in different guises.
We had a large British group and soon filled the allocated space provided by the Iranian Fairground Authorities. Our local standfitters obtained an overflow pavilion which, not being very big, was also rapidly filled. We had three trailers shipped out from the UK and a large amount of airfreight. Our Iranian agent, Bijan Nabavi was up for the job and pulled out all the stops, not only providing customs clearance of the exhibits but providing interpreters and labour on site. When we needed forklifts and cranes he had them there immediately. Over the next few years we got to know Bijan and his family well. He had a lovely wife and three daughters all of whom came to the UK to study. At this point I must relate a little anecdote concerning Bijanâs health. It was around 1988 and he had been having chest pains for a while. He had visited a London doctor and it was found he needed open heart surgery. This was a major operation and was going to set him back many thousands of pounds. At this time Peter Calderwood, our MD had an apartment in an old house in Tunbridge Wells where I also lived during the week when I was back in the office. Bijan asked Peter if he could stay in the apartment after the operation to recover before travelling back to Tehran. It was obviously a lot cheaper to stay with us than fork out for a room in a nursing home. Peter and I were both worried as surely he should be having post-op nursing care 24/7 after the operation. We asked if his wife was flying over to look after him. He then told us he hadnât mentioned it to her as he didnât want her to worry. Blimey we thought sheâs definitely going to worry when he jumps into bed with her on his first night back and she sees a ten inch incision in his chest. Everything went well though but she did tell me later she was very angry with him for not telling her.
The stands were built, the exhibits were on display, the exhibitors arrived and the opening ceremony took place. It was a huge success and the British Groups stands were some of the busiest of the whole Fair. When you consider that Iranâs main trading partners such as France and Germany were there it was quite some achievement. I think the Fair lasted twelve days. A bit less than the one in Baghdad. Dave and I would go out most evenings with some of our customers to various restaurants. However, if the restaurants were Indian or Japanese or some other themed food outlet you only ever saw Iranians running the establishments. When you inquired if the cook was Japanese or whatever you were always given the same answer. âThey left during the Revolution and didnât come backâ. On more than one occasion Dave and I were asked if we would like to join some Iranian or other for an âevening inâ at their home. We had to be very careful bearing in mind we were the organisers of the show a job which normally would have been done by the British Overseas Trade Board. However, we did have a nice quiet evening with one young chap who had a highly responsible job in one of the big hotels. He provided Vodka, the home made stuff brewed by the Armenians, and caviar. All was going swimmingly when Dave and I both peered in the kitchen at the same time and saw cockroaches running over the worktops⌠the Caviar didnât taste quite the same after that but we couldnât say no so had more Vodka to try and erase the image of those horrible creatures.
Once the closing ceremony took place, for me things just got busier. I had to get the empty cases back into the two pavilions that evening before the guards locked the doors. A lot of the exhibitors were leaving the next day and they wanted to repack their exhibits that evening. I remember vividly standing in the doorway of the main pavilion bellowing at the Iranian labour Bijan had supplied to âhurry upâ and get the cases in. Well those werenât exactly the words I used, just as well none of them spoke english. The empty cases were kept in a store on the edge of the fairground and earlier we had loaded them onto a flat trailer pulled by an old bull nosed Mack. Unfortunately only a small amount of the cases and crates got in so that meant I had to pack everything away myself later aided by a few locals that I trusted not to run off with anything.
The next day Dave and most of the exhibitors said goodbye and flew home and I was left to clear up. It would be another ten days before I was ready to leave.
