My memory isn’t too sharp on this trip,so bear with me…
I arrived back at the yard in Ipswich one Wednesday afternoon to be told that I would be shipping out that night from Felixstowe to Zeebrugge,along with another of our driver’s.
That was always the thing with Fred,never any notice about when or where you were going,just get told at the last minute.
Anyway,Olly,the other driver,had been down to Rainham,Essex with a rented step frame to load a very large packing case destined for Dorog,Hungary.My identical trailer had been loaded by someone else and brought back to the yard.
Whilst the packing cases were very light,they were quite big,so both trailers had been stripped down with the tilt folded and tied at the front,the load stuck out the sides about six inches,
they both contained parts for a new fertiliser producing plant in Dorog.
We made our way down to Felixstowe to get the carnets sorted out,and I nipped home for one or two bits and pieces.
The following morning saw us leaving Zeebrugge on a fine sunny day,and our first stop would be Brussels,I had to get a visa sorted out for Czechoslovakia,so,after leaving the trucks at Groot Bijgaarden we got a taxi to the Czech Embassy where it took around three hours to sort everything out.
Another taxi back to the trucks and we were on our way to Aachen,but that was as far as we were going,today was a holiday in Germany,so we’d be sitting there until 10pm.
On arrival at Aachen we went to the Belgian customs to get the carnet stamped and have the volet (page) removed.The customs bloke asked where the trucks were,so we pointed to them.He then decided to come out with his tape measure and check the width of the crates,uh oh!
“Where is your permit”?,he asked.
“We don’t need a permit for Belgium” replied Olly
“You need a permit for wide loads” he said.
“No we don’t!” said Olly
“Yes you do” replied Mr customs officer.
So,we march into his little hut where he starts making out the paperwork to fine us for not having a wide load permit,what a start!
When he asks for our passports he studies Olly’s very intently,and makes a comment about him being the famous writer Charles Dickens.
Olly explodes and I fear he’s going to wring the customs bloke’s neck!
I didn’t know until then that Olly’s actual name was,Charles Dickens!
The customs guy had hit a raw nerve with Olly,who was now red with rage,and I feared that this was as far as we were going on this trip.
But the customs man said no more and simply handed us the paperwork and we proceeded to the German side.
We had in fact known that we were over-width because we had to meet the German agent later on to obtain a permit for Germany,but you have to think on your feet and try and wing it!
Later that night we were at last free to enter Germany and drove through the night to Gieselwind,to the famous Tony’s Autohof,where we would then rest before making our way to Waidhaus and the Czech border.
Friday afternoon see’s us heading for Waidhaus to join the queue of a dozen or more trucks for the border crossing,it’s not a bad crossing point this,usually pretty quick,but it never ceases to amaze me that the barrier swings into Czechoslovakia,not the other way round.You could literally crash a car through into Czech,but you’d have a hell of a job crashing out into Germany in a tank!
They reckon the Iron Curtain is to keep the west out,but in reallity,it’s to keep their own people in!
As we make our way from the border towards Plzen we decide to pull in for the night,driving in the dark is not recommended.
Saturday dawns dull and misty,but after a few cups of tea and some sausage sarnies (marvellous things they were,Wall’s tinned sausages ) we decide to make a move,but not before I take a snap for posterity…
We make our way through Prague,which with the tilts tied at the front of the trailer is quite hazardous,as there are many low bridges with tram wires running underneath which threaten to burn a hole in the canvas.
A couple of times I have to jump out and watch Olly crawl underneath the bridges,before I then crawl under.The actual main TIR route is around the city,but,the bridges on that route are even lower!
Eventually we are free of the city and making our way south,getting stopped a couple of times on the way for the ubiquitous speeding fine,where a packet of ■■■■ eases the passage.
Late afternoon we arrive at the Komarno border and join a long line of Wombles.Wombles are drivers from the Bulgarian state transport concern SoMat,so named after the childrens tv show The Wombles,with Great Uncle Bulgaria.
It’s taking an awfully long time for the queue to move,so Olly gets out to investigate,and finds all the wombles in the bar slowly getting drunk.
After much swearing by Olly,we move around them all to the front of the queue where the Czech guards put a sniffer dog around the trailers and probe with torches.They are looking for any of their countrymen who might be trying to get to Hungary,where most decadent imperialist goods can be found in Budapest.
As we pass through to the Hungarian side we see several cars from Czech being turned out by Czech customs,with the people being made to empty all their possesions out onto the tarmac for inspection.
These are people who have obtained permits,one way or another,to visit Hungary and buy what ever they can afford,but on returning to their own country,are relieved of anything that catches the border guards eyes.
It is after 11pm when we finally enter Hungary,and we drive just a short way before finding somewhere to park for the night.
Sunday,and the weather is much better,sunny and warm,as we arrive in Dorog to find the factory.
There are two women at the gatehouse,and one of them say’s she will phone the manager to tell him we have arrived.He arrives within the hour to inform us that the customs man will arrive soon to complete the carnet formalities and that we can unload today.Sunday.
The customs man duly arrives on his bicycle,albeit very wobbly,he’s just come from the pub.But he completes the paperwork and after relieving us of a packet of Marlboro or two,he is off to the pub again.
Two guys who work in the factory then arrive and start unloading the packing cases,and then help us put the trailers back together,which is very nice,as it can be a b*****r!
We are then shown where we can take a shower within the factory,drop the trailer and off into town to find a watering hole.
Monday morning we drive into town again to find the post office,where we phone the office and tell them we are empty,and after giving them the telex number of the factory,we drive back there once again to await reload instructions.
Olly has to load in Hof,Germany,whilst I must go and load in Gmunden,Austria.
We put the kettle on for a final cuppa together and part company.
I head off for the Austrian border at Nickelsdorf and pass through Vienna arriving in Gmunden late evening.The next morning I load complete with garden furniture for London,and make my way up to the border with Germany.
Nothing much interesting happened on the way back,except that pulling in for a coffee between Frankfurt and Köln on the way,there was Olly who had had exactly the same idea,what a coincidence!
We then travelled back to Zeebrugge together where we once again parted,he taking the ferry for Felixstowe and me going to Dover.
