Can I just echo what Robert has just said? Outstanding stuff, thank you for taking the time to write and to scan and post those photos! Great stuff! 
Brilliant Brian, I canât wait for the next instalment and you have some cracking photos to go with the story which always reignite the old memory cells.
I took my wife with me on a trip to Istanbul once so we booked a room in the hotel at the Mocamp. We were sitting having a quiet drink when an Astran truck driven by John Bruce and two of Hickâs drivers from South Wales pulled in on their way back from somewhere very sandy. The Hickâs driver was Peter The Plater and Pete had seen me and made his way across. I told him that I was going to cancel the following day and do âthe tourist bitâ around Istanbul, Pete thought that it was a great idea and decided that he John and Dennis would come along with us.
John Bruce showed us around and we visited places like The Harem, The Bizarre, The Blue Mosque etc. and we ended up in The Pudding Shop.
As âThe Platerâ was also reloading at the same place as me which was the Honey Factory in Bucharest we set off the following day running together and arrived there two days later.
I donât know if you ever loaded at the Honey Factory in Bucharest Brian but it was bulldozed to the ground around 1987 and they built Nicolae Ceausescu presidential palace on top of it.
Pete and I got loaded the same day and set off home about 4 p.m. in the afternoon. If you remember most Rumanian towns had a three ton weight limit through the town centres and T.I.R. vehicles had to use a diversion which we all ignored. If you ever got stopped by the police they would only charge you a pound or a packet of Kent cigarettes so it was worth it to take the chance.
I was following Pete through a town which at the moment I canât remember the name but we had gone through the three ton weight limit when a black car pulled in front of him and flagged him down. Two, of what looked like plain clothes policeman got out and asked for our passports, including my wifeâs. They wouldnât accept cigarettes but demanded fifty Deutsch Marks off each of us so we told them to get stuffed, opened the trailer box up and put the kettle on. As they were both dressed very smart (for Rumanians) wearing short leather coats, black trousers, decent shoes, shirts and ties and they both had a gun each we thought that they were not the local plod.
After about ten minutes of negotiating with Pete who kept insisting that we were only going to pay them ten Deutsch Marks they went and sat in their car and after about two minutes they drove off with all our passports.
We had a couple of cups of tea and as they still hadnât come back Pete suggested that we cooked a meal as he was convinced that they would come back but after an hour my wife and myself were not so sure that they would.
Eventually they did come back and we ended up paying ten Deutsch Marks each but we did get our passports back and carried on our way.
I donât believe this, 
I have just submitted this post and noticed that Peter The Plater himself is back on Trucknet. Welcome back Pete, itâs great to know that you are still with us.
mushroomman:
Brilliant Brian, I canât wait for the next instalment and you have some cracking photos to go with the story which always reignite the old memory cells.
I took my wife with me on a trip to Istanbul once so we booked a room in the hotel at the Mocamp. We were sitting having a quiet drink when an Astran truck driven by John Bruce and two of Hickâs drivers from South Wales pulled in on their way back from somewhere very sandy. The Hickâs driver was Peter The Plater and Pete had seen me and made his way across. I told him that I was going to cancel the following day and do âthe tourist bitâ around Istanbul, Pete thought that it was a great idea and decided that he John and Dennis would come along with us.
John Bruce showed us around and we visited places like The Harem, The Bizarre, The Blue Mosque etc. and we ended up in The Pudding Shop.
As âThe Platerâ was also reloading at the same place as me which was the Honey Factory in Bucharest we set off the following day running together and arrived there two days later.
I donât know if you ever loaded at the Honey Factory in Bucharest Brian but it was bulldozed to the ground around 1987 and they built Nicolae Ceausescu presidential palace on top of it.
Pete and I got loaded the same day and set off home about 4 p.m. in the afternoon. If you remember most Rumanian towns had a three ton weight limit through the town centres and T.I.R. vehicles had to use a diversion which we all ignored. If you ever got stopped by the police they would only charge you a pound or a packet of Kent cigarettes so it was worth it to take the chance.
I was following Pete through a town which at the moment I canât remember the name but we had gone through the three ton weight limit when a black car pulled in front of him and flagged him down. Two, of what looked like plain clothes policeman got out and asked for our passports, including my wifeâs. They wouldnât accept cigarettes but demanded fifty Deutsch Marks off each of us so we told them to get stuffed, opened the trailer box up and put the kettle on. As they were both dressed very smart (for Rumanians) wearing short leather coats, black trousers, decent shoes, shirts and ties and they both had a gun each we thought that they were not the local plod.
After about ten minutes of negotiating with Pete who kept insisting that we were only going to pay them ten Deutsch Marks they went and sat in their car and after about two minutes they drove off with all our passports.
We had a couple of cups of tea and as they still hadnât come back Pete suggested that we cooked a meal as he was convinced that they would come back but after an hour my wife and myself were not so sure that they would.
Eventually they did come back and we ended up paying ten Deutsch Marks each but we did get our passports back and carried on our way.I donât believe this,
I remember being pulled on one occasion in a Romanian town centre. The police marched me across the road to a bank where I had to change up the required amount in DM. Had me wondering how that was going to end up in their back pocket unless the cashier in the bank was in on the fiddle as well.
We headed north looking forward to a nice easy run home. We again had no problems at the border, sailing through in just a few hours. It was mid afternoon by the time we drove past Silopi and on towards Cizre with John still filling my mirrors. If it continued like this we could be home in about twenty six days. Once we got to Cizre we could see there had been a lot of rain as all the potholes in town were filled with water. But that wasnât a problem to us.
I slowly made my way through and around the potholes remembering that the forklifts in the trailers werenât that well secured. After Cizre you started to climb a hill. Not to steep or long but fully laden it was a bit of a drag. Here the road was smoother and I was soon over the top. I looked for John and for perhaps the first time this trip, I couldânt see him. I thought I would push on slowly and that he would soon catch up. The Turks had just started to duel this section of road and so were not doing any maintenance on the old road at all. Consequently it was very rough in places. I slowed down or braked and then speeded up where conditions allowed. Now I saw John some way behind me. He was catching me up so I guessed all was well. It was now about four oâclock in the afternoon. We would be in Kiziltepe TIR park very soon, we would get cleaned up and have a meal before getting our heads down. Tomorrow would be an easy day running back to the Oryx at Adana. We had met a couple of drivers at the border who said the roads were dry and clear back to Gaziantep so we should have a clear smooth drive back to there at least.
John was still gaining on me. Perhaps three or four hundred metres back now. It was bit like old times as John was driving John Preeceâs old lorry. The one with Annika signwritten above the windscreen. The road was now just ever so slightly going downhill although so slight you hardly noticed it. Here I came across another bad section of road. The surface was broken and small potholes had appeared. As I slowed and arm wrestled the lorry around and through this area I looked in my mirror. John was now much, much, closer and he didnât appear to be slowing down. I shouted out âslow down Johnâ but of course he couldnât hear me. I watched transfixed as he approached the rear of my trailer. He was now only twenty metres back and still not slowing. âB-luddy ell, Stop John. Stopâ I yelled but he continued on and then at the last moment he swerved to his left. Onto the other carriageway just as a Turkish lorry was passing in the opposite direction. He hit him on the drivers side corner, not quite head on, which caused Johns lorry to jackknife. The resulting explosion of noise, of metal colliding with metal and being ripped apart is something I can still hear, even now. I stopped immediately but knew John would be lucky to survive that crash!!!
To be continued.
sandway:
We headed north looking forward to a nice easy run home. We again had no problems at the border, sailing through in just a few hours. It was mid afternoon by the time we drove past Silopi and on towards Cizre with John still filling my mirrors. If it continued like this we could be home in about twenty six days. Once we got to Cizre we could see there had been a lot of rain as all the potholes in town were filled with water. But that wasnât a problem to us.I slowly made my way through and around the potholes remembering that the forklifts in the trailers werenât that well secured. After Cizre you started to climb a hill. Not to steep or long but fully laden it was a bit of a drag. Here the road was smoother and I was soon over the top. I looked for John and for perhaps the first time this trip, I couldânt see him. I thought I would push on slowly and that he would soon catch up. The Turks had just started to duel this section of road and so were not doing any maintenance on the old road at all. Consequently it was very rough in places. I slowed down or braked and then speeded up where conditions allowed. Now I saw John some way behind me. He was catching me up so I guessed all was well. It was now about four oâclock in the afternoon. We would be in Kiziltepe TIR park very soon, we would get cleaned up and have a meal before getting our heads down. Tomorrow would be an easy day running back to the Oryx at Adana. We had met a couple of drivers at the border who said the roads were dry and clear back to Gaziantep so we should have a clear smooth drive back to there at least.
John was still gaining on me. Perhaps three or four hundred metres back now. It was bit like old times as John was driving John Preeceâs old lorry. The one with Annika signwritten above the windscreen. The road was now just ever so slightly going downhill although so slight you hardly noticed it. Here I came across another bad section of road. The surface was broken and small potholes had appeared. As I slowed and arm wrestled the lorry around and through this area I looked in my mirror. John was now much, much, closer and he didnât appear to be slowing down. I shouted out âslow down Johnâ but of course he couldnât hear me. I watched transfixed as he approached the rear of my trailer. He was now only twenty metres back and still not slowing. âB-luddy ell, Stop John. Stopâ I yelled but he continued on and then at the last moment he swerved to his left. Onto the other carriageway just as a Turkish lorry was passing in the opposite direction. He hit him on the drivers side corner, not quite head on, which caused Johns lorry to jackknife. The resulting explosion of noise, of metal colliding with metal and being ripped apart is something I can still hear, even now. I stopped immediately but knew John would be lucky to survive that crash!!!
To be continued.
Great stuff! Enjoying it werry mutch! Looks like that Scania had have bettre days eh?
Dsnne
I stopped immediately but knew John would be lucky to survive that crash. One thing I had been blessed with was the ability to remain cool and not get phased even in the direst of situations. Of course, I knew immediately this accident could be nasty in more ways than one. The film âMidnight Expressâ and Turkish prisons came to mind. I opened my door to get out and go back to help any survivors, if there were any. I remember looking forward up the road. There was no traffic at all. I looked behind. There were nothing behind either. John had managed to hit the only vehicle near us for miles. It was about four fifteen on a Friday afternoon, overcast and the light was beginning to go.
Before I jumped down from the cab I leaned across to get my jumper as it was quite cold outside. I turned round to put the jumper on, still sitting in my seat. Suddenly, John was there, standing outside my door, shouting to me, âhelp me, help me, Iâve killed himâ. Blood was running down his face from a head wound and he looked a bit worse for wear but I was very relieved to see him mobile. I dropped my jumper and picked up a towel then got down to attend to him. I leant John against the side of my lorry, looked at the wound, which could have been worse and wrapped the towel around his head. I asked him if he would be ok there whilst I went to check on the Turkish driver. He said yes, so I ran back to find the driver leaning back in his seat making low moaning noises. Well at least youâre alive I thought, but we need to do something about you. I looked around for help. But still nobody else was on the road. Not in front or behind. Then in the distance, coming from Cizre I saw a couple of Tonkaâs. They slowly got closer and when they were close by I waved them down, ran over to them and shouted out, âcolleagur, colleagurâ and pointed to their countryman. They soon got the gist of what I wanted them to do and went to give help.
I went back to John who was looking pretty ashen faced and helped him up into the passenger seat of my lorry. We sat there for a while. John making excuses for his actions, me thinking what needs to be done as we are here, an accident has happened and we have to handle the situation as best we can. The road wasnât completely blocked. Traffic could get by on the area alongside the carriageway where they were widening the road but the police needed to be informed. By now traffic was passing us, but of course almost everyone was driving by very slowly to have a good look. I went back to the Tonkaâs and found the Turkish driver sitting in one in about the same state as John. I tried to get the message across that the police in Cizre needed to be informed. But I wasnât sure my message was getting through. I then stopped any Dutch, Danish, German or any other nationalities lorries I thought could help and asked them to inform any policeman they saw between where the accident happened and the border. I think I spoke to about ten drivers going that way but strangely none homeward bound. Finally I went back to join John as I was cold and tired. It was dark now and I knew it was going to be a long night. As it so happened the military turned up first. Four hours after the accident. The police arrived another two hours after them.
The military comprised one young officer in charge and four or five conscripts who were only interested in what they could help themselves to from Johns wrecked lorry. I went back to his lorry and told them to p-iss off but at the same time took his gear and tacho card out. Didnât want anyone looking at his card until I had looked at it myself. The young officer in charge could speak a little english and he suggested John and the Turkish driver should go to hospital. Only problem was the hospital was over a hundred kilometres away. Nevertheless a taxi was found from somewhere and they both disappeared into the darkness.
Now I was on my own I found I could think clearly. I said to the officer that if the Turkish lorry could be moved away from Johns, I would drop my trailer and chain my unit to his and try and pull it back straight. I could then pull the pin and separate the unit and trailer. The officer had a word with some Turkish drivers and they did separate them. I had by then dropped my trailer, found some chain and hooked Johns unit to the pin in the middle of my bumper. I backed up and took the strain on the chain and attempted to drag Johns unit straight so it was no longer jackknifed. Nothing moved. I moved forward and let the chain go slightly slack and then moved quickly back. I think it moved a few millimetres. I thought to myself Iâm going to have to be a lot more aggressive if Iâm going to succeed. It took me the best part of five hours to get Johns unit into a position where I could wind the trailer legs down, release the pin and pull the unit to one side allowing me to back my unit under his trailer and move it off the road. When the police eventually arrived I was halfway through this procedure. They hung around for an hour or more. Then kinda patted me on the back, shook my hand and cluttered off never to be seen again. They knew they were out of their depth when the military were involved.
I finally cleared the road about two in the morning and got my head down parked amongst the wrecked vehicles as I was to tired to do anything else.
To be continued.
A great âcliff-hangerâ, this one! Robert
What a fascinating story Brian and the photos that go with it make me feel like a bystander watching it all unfolding.
Keep it up mate.
A brilliant story Brian. I canât remember this. Old Age eh?
Having read sandwayâs post Iâm not surprised somehow⌠My own memories of Wardy was of his being glued to my trailer all the way to Baghdad. No matter how often I told him to leave more space he wouldnât.
However, I am surprised that Iâd never heard the story before.
Was it also Wardy who had the fatal accident in France?
After Wardy left Promotor - was this why he left? - he went to work in Dover and the next I heard he was survivor (yet again) of the Herald of Free Enterprise disaster which was in 1987 just after Iâd left Promotor.
Efes:
Having read sandwayâs post Iâm not surprised somehow⌠My own memories of Wardy was of his being glued to my trailer all the way to Baghdad. No matter how often I told him to leave more space he wouldnât.However, I am surprised that Iâd never heard the story before.
Was it also Wardy who had the fatal accident in France?
After Wardy left Promotor - was this why he left? - he went to work in Dover and the next I heard he was survivor (yet again) of the Herald of Free Enterprise disaster which was in 1987 just after Iâd left Promotor.
Hello Efes. I dont suppose John did a lot of boasting about that incident. Also, as drivers it was possible to go months if not years without meeting so maybe thats how come very few knew about it.
Welly Ward was involved much earlier in a fatal accident in Calais. I think it went to court. Dave Stagg went out there with John because he spoke French. However, it was thrown out of court or it didnât get there because the Frenchman who died was drunk.
John wasnât sacked after the Turkish accident but left later of his own free will. I did hear quite a few years later that he had been seen driving a dustcart somewhere in North Kent but I have no way of substantiating that.
sandway:
Efes:
Having read sandwayâs post Iâm not surprised somehow⌠My own memories of Wardy was of his being glued to my trailer all the way to Baghdad. No matter how often I told him to leave more space he wouldnât.However, I am surprised that Iâd never heard the story before.
Was it also Wardy who had the fatal accident in France?
After Wardy left Promotor - was this why he left? - he went to work in Dover and the next I heard he was survivor (yet again) of the Herald of Free Enterprise disaster which was in 1987 just after Iâd left Promotor.
Hello Efes. I dont suppose John did a lot of boasting about that incident. Also, as drivers it was possible to go months if not years without meeting so maybe thats how come very few knew about it.
Welly Ward was involved much earlier in a fatal accident in Calais. I think it went to court. Dave Stagg went out there with John because he spoke French. However, it was thrown out of court or it didnât get there because the Frenchman who died was drunk.
John wasnât sacked after the Turkish accident but left later of his own free will. I did hear quite a few years later that he had been seen driving a dustcart somewhere in North Kent but I have no way of substantiating that.
Following the Herald disaster, I saw Wardy driving for Automotive. We met up in Dover and he told me about the Herald.
Couple of Promotor pics on ebay today (see below). Robert
robert1952:
Couple of Promotor pics on ebay today (see below). Robert10
Yes, know that Scania 112 well enough. It was my unit on Promotor. Had it from new and was a good motor.
I finally cleared the road about two in the morning and got my head down parked amongst the wrecked vehicles as I was to tired to do any thing else. The young army officer left three or four conscripts behind to stand guard. At three oâclock and again around five oâclock I was woken up by these conscripts banging on my door. They were demanding whisky and â â â . I assume the â â â they wanted was pictures found in magazines, not my body, but if I wasnât to tired to get up I would certainly have put a few fâks in them.
Next morning I arose to find nothing had changed. There were still three trailers and three units spread out along the road. Only my Scania was more or less undamaged, just knocked about a bit around the pin in the middle of my bumper. The conscripts were still there, lazing around and some actually asleep. The young officer at last turned up about nine thirty and I immediately complained to him about the behaviour of his men during the night. He apologised, rounded them all up and gave them a right dressing down. Must admit I had a good chuckle as I could imagine him telling them their National Service would be extended from two years to three if there were any more incidents. They certainly looked very worried.
About ten oâclock John and the Turkish driver turned up in a taxi which I had to pay for. John told me it was about 120km to the town where the hospital was but he didnât know its name. They had looked at the cut on his head and decided it needed stitching. They then produced the âbiggest blâdy needle Iâve ever seen. I told them where to put thatâ he said. After some repairs were done to his head he was led to a ward where he stayed for the night. I was given a filthy mattress to lie on. No bed, just a filthy mattress on the floor. I thought, maybe thats all you deserved John. There had been a few British lorries on the road that morning. They all stopped and we assured them all was under control. One of those was Roger Haywood, Astran O/D. He stayed with us for about an hour.
About eleven oâclock we were told by the officer that we had to go with him to the army post nearby where we had to make statements. We went in his vehicle and after a drive of six or seven kilometres I think, we found ourselves in a small building which appeared to be surrounded by oil fields. Nodding donkeys were everywhere and they were emitting loud banging noises. This building was a mess-room with sleeping accommodation off to one side. We sat down at a table and were introduced to a local teacher who would act as our interpreter. It took about two hours to get our statements written down. I must admit I canât remember if they were written in English or Turkish but John was guilty so what did it matter. I was brought down to earth though when the interpreter told me that I was being blamed as they thought I had braked to sharply causing John to swerve into the middle of the road where he collided with the Turkish lorry. The damage to the rear of my trailer, although only slight, was witness to me having been the instigator of the accident. I told them that was a load of b-lls but that didnât seem to help the matter.
By now it was early afternoon and we were both hungry and thirsty. We had been given cay and some cake but that was all. I said to the officer we needed to get back to our lorries as we had food there. âIâm sorryâ, he said but you are both under arrest and have to stay here as you have to go to court in Mardin on Monday. No way, I thought. If you think iâm dossing down here, with these uneducated farm boy conscripts, eating their food and listening to those nodding donkeys banging away twenty four hours a day you can think again. What I actually said to this educated young officer was, âYou canât expect us to stay here. Its not suitable. Its an army camp designed for soldiers. We are British lorry drivers and we intend to stay in the hotel thirty kilometres up the roadâ. I had seen this quite new hotel many times but it always seemed empty but I thought it was worth a try. âI will have a word with my commanding officerâ he said. Sure enough the big boss agreed as long as we forfeited our passports. I can live with that I thought and so we were taken back to our lorries. John got the rest of his gear from his unit and stowed it in mine.
We then followed the officer to the hotel, thankfully, finding it open. We booked a room, the officer took our passports and said he would be back Monday morning to take us to the courthouse in Mardin. Our room was quite modern and comfortable and we both had showers. It was heaven after what we had both been through in the last twenty four hours. But now I had to contact the company to let them know what had happened.
To be continued.
The story continues.
This lovely old beast was brought in by the Turkish driver to load his wrecked lorry onto a flatbed trailer for it to be transported home. I think it was based in Cizre.
Great thread thisâŚI just caught up on it yesterday now Iâm wating for the next installmentâŚcome on SandwayâŚput your brew down and get typing 