I remember having a few good ‘nights out’ with the A1 Transport (Leeds) lads over the years, in places like The Hotel Wein in Budapest, Santhia and Carisio in Italy. The Bakehouse and The Algerian’s in France and at the Swiss border. So, I thought that it would be good idea to share a couple of their anecdotes.
Re: A1 transport,leeds
Postby keith 2 » Sat Aug 28, 2010 3:39 am
philberg182 wrote:
hi Phil,can you remember,going with Shaun on the cab job to France
Yes,how could i forget, it was no good trying to keep up with Shaun when it came to drinking, christ i felt crap 
. Tried to sleep it off with my head hanging out of the window untill Shaun put the window up trapping my head in it 
When i think back, working for A1 was probably the happiest time of my life, we had some good fun with the stunts we used to pull. Can you imagine doing it now with all the Health and safety rubbish we have to put up with . Well i suppose it keeps someone in a job
Do you remember when we had all them spares upstairs above the workshop ■■? . Someone wanted a back spring for something and we couldnt be arsed carrying it downstairs , so we decided to lower it out of the window on a rope. Terry Bentley pipes up " ill be the anchor man " . so he wrapped the rope round his waist, i put the spring on the window ledge and Ken and Woody also had a hold of the rope. Trouble was i shoved it out of the window and them 2 let go. It was like a cartoon with the rope disappearing fast with Terry still tied to the other end, he shot across the room with his club foot and only just stopped at the window as the spring hit the deck.
I dont think i ever laughed as much, he burnt his hands trying to grab the rope. It was a good job the rope was long enough as nobody had thought of that.
We would have all been sacked now
Another one for you, One of the continental lads ( I`m not saying who it was but he goes on here ) gave me an aerosol can of mace which was, and probably still is illegal in this country. I waited while John Taylor went to the toilet and i snook in and sprayed it then shut the door. He came charging out in a big rage with his eyes watereing, he never did find out who did it 
[/quote]
bloody hell Phil,the tail with the rope,i forgot about that one,but now remember it plain as day ,have been in stitches just reading it
keith 2
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Re: A1 transport,leeds
Postby ddrbsn » Thu Aug 26, 2010 7:29 am
philberg182 wrote:
Keith 2 if that dont jog your memory you did a spell at walkers with me, Richard , Ken, and Singh
Wasnt there a Singh at Bradford garage about 1970 ■■. I remember they wanted my unit for service there one night and as Id struggled to find an m/t trailer I asked if I could leave it attached.Sure I was told just stick them over one of the long pits and well have it ready for the morning. They asked if any problems I said none on unit but rear o/s indicator on trailer was blown, as the stores were shut I asked if theyd stick some bulbs in cab or if they got bored they could change it.I got the usual mouthful of banter as I left. Next morning rolled into garage before night shift had finished to find wires and connecter blocks hanging from trailer. I think it was Tony …(surname eludes me) came over to tell me they had had a right time trying to get indicater to work and they still hadnt succeded. Theres me thought it was just the bulb blown says I, what blown bulb says Tony, the one I asked them to change says I. The look on their faces when they realised what I was saying was priceless, apparently the handover just said there was an indicater problem on the trailer, I beat a hasty retreat and left them to greet dayshift when they arrived…
ddrbsn
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Re: A1 transport,leeds
Postby DRY GINGER » Tue Apr 26, 2011 7:52 pm
Mostar Yugoslavia.
My next trip was to a far flung place I had never heard of. I had a trailer full of chemicals from I.C.I. in Huddersfield. When I collected my documents from the office, I was told that their were four of us making the trip but would be setting off at different times. One driver had already set off, namely, CATWEASEL, as he was known on the C.B.(John Taylor)
I set off down to Dover to catch the ferry to Calais. When I arrived at Dover and parked up the Truck, there was a great deal of paperwork to do at the customs house. This entailed standing in line with many other drivers.Some that had probably not washed for several days! My docs were in order and so the next thing to have done was to get my “PLOMBES” or seals, put on the security cable that goes all the way round the trailer.
After arriving at Calais and having a short rest, I set off.
Paris, Dijon. Macon, first overnight. The following day. Geneva, Chamonix, thought the Mont Blanc tunnel and into Italy. Aosta, second overnight.
Third day, across the top of Italy. Milan.Bergamo.Verona,Venice to Trieste and park up for some well earned sleep. Fourth day through a very small border at Klinca Selo into Yugoslavia.
The journey down the coast road of Yugo’ was very scary, to say the least. Very long, and very twisty and slippery surface. Not a lot of traffic, once I was south of Rijeka. But you certainly needed your wits about you. As you travelled along, you might see a vehicle a few hundred yards away across an inlet, but it could be as much as 10 minutes before you passed each other going in opposite directions.
I got as far as Sibenik and found a lovely place to park for the night right next to the Adriatic Sea. Went for a beer or two with lovely steak and chips. (£2-£3)
I set off, on the fifth day, following the coast road, through Split, Markarska, and down to the port of Ploce. Here, I turned inland, and drove north to the town of MOSTAR.
I arrived in the town centre, looking for the “Customs Office.” I pulled over into a Bus lay-by, (on the right hand side of the road) to ask the way. There was a very official looking man dressed in a uniform standing nearby, so he would be the one to ask, I thought. I asked him in my best German language, if he knew where the “Dogana” was? And surprise, surprise, he said “Zurruck drie undert meters” which meant that I had passed the place by 3 hundred meters. He then indicated to me that he would stop the traffic in order for me to do a “U” turn in the road. As I sit on the right hand side and was on the right side of the road, I knew I would lose sight of the left hand side of the trailer when manoeuvring. The policeman said to carry on, and as I was turning I could see the horrific expression on the face of a man standing on the opposite side of the road. I leaped out from the cab to see what the matter was, and lo and behold, there was a very small car that had all but disappeared under the trailer side protector bars!
The driver was not a happy bunny, and proceeded to tell me so in Croatian! I started to tell the policeman what an idiot he was, in English! And he stormed off to get his superior.
After extricating the car, the new policeman climbed into my cab and, with hand signals, guided me to the Customs Office.
Who should be already parked up, but another A.1 driver, CATWEASEL.
The police officer then tried all ways to get me to part with lots and lots of money, as bribery, to forget the accident!
As I refused point blank, he simply said “Passport” and told me to be at the local court house at 10.00am the coming Monday. And off he went, complete with my passport.
When my fellow driver, John, woke up, I told him of my predicament. He was as concerned as me because the ruling in Yugoslavia at that time was, “If, a foreigner has an accident in our country, he is automatically to blame because if he hadn’t come to our country, he wouldn’t have had an accident!”
So there I was, stuck in Mostar with a fully loaded trailer, and NO PASSPORT.
We both managed to clear customs without too many problems and went to find somewhere to park up for the night.
I found a lovely place just on the outskirts of the town with a large area to park and right next to a small restaurant.
We got changed and went to the restaurant intending to have something to eat and drink. As luck would have it, the manager , who we later learnt was called Radoslav Remetic, could speak German and as I could as well, we could communicate with each other. As the evening was still very hot he put us at a small table outside and next to his BEER COOLER! This was a 3’ X 2’ metal tray, about 8” deep and with water flowing in one end and out the other. It was filled with beer bottles! FULL ONES!
He told us to help ourselves and he would get us something to eat. This was too good to be true!
As the evening wore on, I told our host about my troubles. He said not to worry, He would sort out an interpreter for Monday.
I had to keep clearing the water outlet from the tank as it was getting clogged up with beer labels! We did our best to empty it, but got beaten by tiredness.
The cost for the whole evening, for the two of us, including the meal, was £5!!
The following morning, Friday, John and I said we would meet up back at the same ■■■■■■■■■■■■. So we set off find our various factories up in the Mountains.
John had told me that you would need your passport at the factory, in order to get unloaded which meant that I had another problem to sort out.
When I eventually found the chemical works, way up on a plateau, all by itself, I drove up to the gates.
It seems that ALL big industrial sites have to have guards. But what I hadn’t foreseen was to be approached by a military guy toting a bloody KALASHNIKOV!
He asked me for “PASS”, so I did the next best thing and gave him my
DRIVING LICENSE! He seemed happy with that, thank goodness.
I duly got unloaded and by late afternoon, got back to our parking area.
Who should be there, but “Notty” also from A.1.(Arthur Knott). He also had seen the open space and thought that it would be a good place to stay. A little later, Catweasel arrived.
Friday night, in the middle of Yugoslavia, and nowhere to go!
So naturally we walked to our FAVOURITE restaurant! The place was buzzing, only it was full of military army lads. It seemed that the garrison as just across the road. All three of us had a good time with lots of food and beer. Talked about this and that and “HOW FAST THEM TRUCKS CAN GO!” Then went to our respective trucks to sleep. The temperature was in the mid 90’s and too hot to sleep.
Saturday and Notty had to get off to unload his trailer somewhere. As this was Saturday and the sun was just rising, John and I had a lie in until 10.00. We each made a late breakfast for ourselves.
It was getting VERY VERY hot outside, so we went walkabout sightseeing MOSTAR. It was so hot that we had to get from one shady place to another quickly. There were Mosques, Minarets and churches everywhere. A great deal of gold and silver shops which had little copper doors, all brightly polished. And of course, the wonderful 13th centaury MOSTAR BRIDGE. This wonderful white marbled steeply curved bridge was absolutely amazing to behold. The river NERETVA was flowing swiftly under the bridge with its lovely bright green waters.
The afternoon was getting so hot that the only place was back at our own trucks where we could make ourselves a cup of tea.
It was too hot to sleep and we didn’t have AIRCON in those days, so tossed and turned until the sun went down.
Notty eventually turned up, so we walked to our favourite restaurant, the LIPOV PLAD.We had some wonderful Yugoslavian food with locally made wine, finished off with some more beers and Kirch liqueurs the whole lot coming to to not much more than £5 each. Naturally, we all slept well that night!
Sunday, am. Feeling a fair bit hung-over, but after a couple of coffees I was ok. I noticed that my two fellow drivers were stirring in their cabs and thought it best not to disturb them just yet.
Around mid-morning they joined me at the restaurant for some coffee. After some discussion it was decided that they should set off up the coast of Yugo, in order to get to the place of our reload, which was in KLAGENFURT, Austria.
After some light food, both Catweasel and Knotty set off up the road leaving me to face the music the following morning.
As I had already phoned the British Consulate in BELGRADE and got NO help from them in trying to get my passport back, there was not a lot that I could do. So I thought I would walk down to the MOSTAR POST OFFICE to see if I could phone my wife.
In those days there were no such things as MOBILE phones. And what you had to do was stand in a queue until a booth became available for you to use. This could take a very long time, as Sunday seemed to be the only time that the general public wanted to use a phone!
After what seemed like an eternity, I finally got through to my wife in England. She already knew of my predicament and was very understanding. I have to say that I broke down in tears with emotion. I have never felt so alone and helpless.
That evening, my new good friend, Radoslav, collected me in his car and we went down onto the centre of MOSTAR. He had decided that I needed cheering up!
He took us to a hotel which was the former house of the late PRESIDENT TITO. It was not very full but the waiters were very helpful and we had a lovely meal together. I remember Radoslav trying to persuade the waitress to join me later in the evening for fun and games
What with the following days court case worries, I had to decline the invitation!
Monday, 10.00am. Found me sitting at the top of a flight of stairs outside the court room waiting for an interpreter to arrive from YUGOTOURINTEX.
When he eventually arrived and put me at ease, he was most helpful. He told me what the procedure would be. He told me to say “YES” when he gave me the nod!
We entered this tiny room which had three HUGE women sitting behind a long desk. I could see my passport on the table in front of them much to my relief. A lot of jabbering went on until my interpreter gave me a nudge! I said “YES! A small piece of paper was passed, along with my passport, to my interpreter and that seemed to be that. He told me that the piece of paper was a fine that had to be paid at the post office straight away.
As Radoslav had gone off shopping for his wife he had left his son to chaperone me. So he went off to the p/o for me whilst I sat in the very hot noonday sun waiting.
When Zoran returned after paying my fine for me, which totalled £10!! I gave him some extra money for all their help. I was desperate to say good bye to Radoslav but couldn’t afford to wait for him to return.
So with a very sad heart, I departed MOSTAR and set course north, to AUSTRIA. The time was now, 1230pm. The sun was at its hottest and boy oh boy could I feel it! Don’t forget the trucks in those days did not have Air conditioning. I had both windows down and the roof vent open but it was still very hot in the cab.
I drove down south west to PLOCE on the coast, and turned north towards the Yugoslavian border with Austria.
SPLIT, SIBENIK, ZARDAR, all passed in a blur. I caught glimpses of holidaymakers sunbathing on the beaches as I drove through tourist spots and small villages.
Onwards and upwards, always heading north. Hour after hour, kilometer after kilometer.
KARLOBAG, RIJEKA, where the big oil industry is based, and then finally I turned off the coast road at OPATIJA and headed for LJUBLJANA.
The time was approaching midnight and the weather had turned very much colder. It had started to rain and I found it very difficult to drive on the wet and slippery roads especially as I was hauling an empty trailer.
0200am Tuesday. The border crossing with Austria. This small border post was at the entrance to a tunnel which went through into Austria. I had no problems with customs as I was “Leer,” or at the other end and finally entered Austria. The rain hadn’t stopped and I was very very tired. I was approaching the outskirts of KLAGENFURT, couldn’t find anyone to ask directions to where I wanted to be. All I wanted to do was find somewhere to pull in and lay my weary head down for a few hours.
I finally saw in my headlights what looked like a lay-by, so pulled in, parked up, and fell onto my bunk and was asleep in seconds.
The time was 0330 and I had been driving for almost 15 hours non-stop!
I awoke 4 hours later. Opened my curtains to a bright and sunny day and couldn’t believe my eyes.
There, approximately half a mile away, over to my right across a field, I could make out TWO, A ONE TRANSPORT trucks. I hurriedly got dressed and drove to the entrance to the factory to meet my two mates. They were as surprised to see me as I was with them. They had had to sit awaiting loading instructions from the agents for TWO WHOLE DAYS.
So. After all my heartache and troubles I had caught up with them and was now on schedule to reload and return to the UK.
DRY GINGER
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