I slept well…
With the knowledge we were being watched over by our guardian angels, Robocop and his ■■■■■■■■■ Alsatian. I got up early and wandered over the road to have some breakfast. Two vehicles at a time would go across to where were tipping near the Agadir road. It wasn’t far away from where we were and sometime before noon, I drove off to find the tip. Oddly enough, I know what day it was exactly but, I’m struggling to remember exactly where I heard the news. Something about a plane that had hit a building in New York. I think we got it from another driver via the CB and that it made little sense to us. I wasn’t sure if it was some kind of wind up or practical joke. There was definitely something out of the ordinary, you could just feel it somehow. As it became clearer that something very serious indeed had happened, I called transport and told them I was running empty for the boat. There wasn’t a discussion, I told them, they protested and I hung up. I felt very very uncomfortable where I was all of a sudden. Looking back, my fears were unfounded, I’m confident we could have loaded back without any problems, but shipping out empty would be much quicker than shipping out loaded and the inevitable, time consuming process that would involve. It wasn’t a difficult route back, just find the northbound highway and get her lit.
Driving like crazy to get home at a gentle 56 mph is such a contradiction. I thought about playing with things but decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. I could get stopped in Spain or France and the workshop back in England would soon suss out things had been ‘fingered’. So I headed gently across the desert assuming I could get a boat that afternoon or evening. As I got closer to the port, a policeman ahead was flagging me down. I really hoped he wasn’t friends with the one we’d all driven around previously. Turns out he’s the only one trained and considered grown up enough to operate the speed gun and not sell it to anyone. I thought about driving around him but oncoming traffic and a fear of more serious consequences made me stop. As usual with law enforcement from other countries, I turned my engine off, opened the door and smiled. I was speeding he said, I didn’t say anything because he was bang to rights. If memory serves me right he wanted 800 Dirham, which was ridiculous and I didn’t have it cash anyway. I told him I didn’t have it, he reiterated the amount, I told him again that I didn’t have it. His English was good enough to tell me there was a cash dispenser about 5 minutes away. I was to go there, get the money and report back. For the second time that day, I wasn’t quite sure what I was hearing. I couldn’t believe my luck! Ok I said and smiled as I shut the door and started up again. What a nice friendly policeman he was and he was right, there was an ATM just 5 minutes away, I saw it as I roared right past it at 56 mph on my way directly to the port. The port was signposted and I could work out the route by re-tracing the way we all came out of town. When I got to the entry gate, there was a familiar looking man with a hat and Ray-Ban Aviators. Everyone else had the same idea and were milling around talking about out chances of shipping out that day. It turns out the chances were good and I was booked on the next ferry out. The New York news story still seemed surreal, how could the twin towers collapse, why and who? None of it made sense. We collected our tickets and when the ferry arrived, I watched as the mad scrum descended on the first hapless victim off and hoped he’d got his doors locked. I subsequently learned that if you got a carved wooden plaque with your name on it and put it in the windscreen, they’d mostly leave you alone. It was a bit of a scrum to get on which seems to be the case when getting boats in Europe. The organised lanes at Dover are a world away from the pushing, shoving and horn blowing when getting on a ferry in southern Europe. Reversing into a ferry in the rain, darkness, when the boat is pitching around and the lead up ramp is made of bundles of rope just wouldn’t happen in the UK. None of those fun games here though. I’m convinced the knock off Ray-Ban Aviators is standard kit issue for Moroccan customs control. Half way up the linkspan I was told to stop. Two customs men started randomly looking over the trailer, I was empty I’d checked. I hadn’t checked the pallet boxes and that’s where they found a teenage lad trying to get to Europe. I was as surprised as he was, I was even more surprised and then horrified when they pulled him out very roughly and set about him with their batons! I’m not here to discuss the rights and wrongs of people trying get to a better future but, I couldn’t let them just batter this lad. I got out and intervened giving him just enough time to scarper off. I subsequently learned that there was a small population of homeless refugees living in the empty containers. I’ve led a very comfortable life indeed. The ship then gently pushed out towards Spain and much more familiar territory. I felt a sense of calm.
I called in the next morning and was given a re-load from the Murcia area. I stopped past Granada for coffee and it was then that I saw the TV. Spanish news television played the entire Twin Towers incident over and over again from every angle. Then they’d show Air Force One taking off and then back the continuous loop of the towers getting hit. Images I’ll never forget.
I worked for Ralph for a few more months but, as the trips to Europe decreased, as they were for many British outfits at the time, I looked for another firm that would keep me in Europe. I turned up for my test drive at Continental Express whilst still working for Ralph and handed my notice in a week later. In similar fashion to STS, I’d seen CE on every trip I’d been on, I figured the would be just as good or bad as the rest. Turns out back then, they were good and I worked for them for a few years.
Morocco is full of nice people. I didn’t meet many of them but, I’m sure like very other country I’ve been to, there are more nice ones than bad ones.