Day 5 – TEST Day… gulp
Disclaimer – I defer any responsibility for any of the drivel you might read below, but my defence is that I might just be having a shandy or 2 as I write this.
‘Yes OK, OK’, they shouted, ‘but are you drinking in celebration, or to drown your sorrows’ 
‘Tell us already…’
Read on, my fellow Terry fans, and ye shall find out.
As mentioned yesterday, it was going to have to be a 05:30 alarm clock today. That would get me up to the yard an hour later to meet Terry, where we checked the truck and set off in good time for the test area.
As my dad always said, it’s best to be somewhere early and waiting, than rushing around trying to make it at the last minute. And the very reason he adhered to that mantra was aptly demonstrated a few years back by my mother, in a real life tale of the ‘Fast and Furious’, North-East edition 
Don’t start feeling sorry for yourselves having to read this, as Terry also got the story this morning interspersed into the monologue of verbal diarrhea I probably spouted on the drive up, pre-test.
So where was I, oh yes, always better to be somewhere early.
Nothing abnormal about the start to events. My parents have a holiday booked to, oh I don’t know any more, but more than likely the Canaries at that time, as that’s where they always went until they discovered cruises much more recently.
Anyway, typical parents, they have the cases out at least a week early – well more so my mother does as that allows her time to try and condense 4 double-wardrobes worth of clothes at home, into a 20kg limit suitcase, to take with her. And, when I say into one, what I mean is, into one, and then also half of my dad’s case too.
On the day before departure, this is when my dad comes more to the fore.
He oversees the ritual weigh-in of the cases on the bathroom scales – followed by the ritual argument over the definition of the words ‘20kg limit’ and how mother thinks that it’s a ‘suggestion’ and my dad re-explaining that it is NOT and she is going to have to take something out.
Eventually we make it to leaving home time and, after loading the car, my dad goes round the house to make sure all the plugs are out, the stop-■■■■ is off and double checks that he has the tickets, his wallet and his passport. As he gets into the car he double-checks that my mother has her passport, to which she answers, ‘Of course I have’ and they’re off. Journey pre-planned to be there 3hrs before check-in, allowing for the possibility of a bit of traffic on the way up to Newcastle airport.
Nothing untoward on the drive up and they leave the car with the Long stay company a few miles form the airport and wait for the shuttle bus to drop them off.
Once into the terminal, the check-in desks are already open and mother and father promptly wander over so they can offload their cases and make their way air-side.
‘Tickets and passports please’, requests the nice lady behind the desk.
My dad hands over both tickets and his passport and, after a moment turns to look at my mother as the colour, and pretty much life, starts draining out of her face. Frantic scratting only leads to a complete emptying of her handbag and then the horrible, gut-wrenching realization that yes, her passport is still back at home on the top of a set of drawers, ready to put in her handbag 
I’ll save you a description of the next 15mins as you can paint that particular picture very well yourselves, I am sure.
After the dust had settled it came down to this – my dad could attempt to get back home, pick up the passport and make it back to the airport for a certain time. Or they would miss their holiday.
Well it’s a solid one hour drive each way, as well as the time needed to get the car back from the Long stay company and to re-park it and get back to the airport.
Long story short – he made it in time after breaking many a motoring law, shortening his life by a good few years and decreeing that my mother would never, ever have responsibility for her own passport, or any important document, again.
But, by being at the airport early, he was able to save the day and probable marital breakdown because the holiday would otherwise have been flushed down the toilet.
You know, that story seemed a lot shorter to tell Terry than it just did to write it.
Nevertheless, Terry, being a former military man remember, is also a fan of being prepared and punctuality, so we were well ahead of schedule when the weary staff at the Test Center opened its doors to the baying public.
As is normal in these situations, time goes in to extra fast mode and before I knew it, my examiner, a lady Terry knew well (and no, don’t take that the wrong way you lot 
) was introducing herself and getting me to sign my life away once she had seen my documents.
Whilst sat in the cab we went through the Show-Me-Tell-Me questions.
They were, as Terry had re-assured me, very straight forward.
I was asked about the Tacho, the ‘audible warning device’, the dials and gauges I would look at after start-up and the points I would check regarding my tyres.
After that we were straight into the Reverse exercise.
Now on the first training day I did this back at the yard. I tried it 3 times and had no problems.
Yesterday, we tackled it again at the end of the day and, having set the cones up, I performed it perfectly at the first attempt and that was enough for Terry.
Of course, as soon as we get to test day and the butterflies are churning a little, things seem to start OK, but in a spat of over-eagerness I have turned a little early as I try and straighten up and the driver’s side pole at the entrance to the bay is somehow exhibiting magical magnetic qualities and drawing me ever closer 
I know Terry’s watching and probably thinking about the severe punishment he’s going to inflict on me for not even making it out of the Test Centre – so I cut my losses and take a shunt.
That sorted it, and back I went into the bay like a greased up Chilean miner.
As my Examiner re-arranged the cones for the following test, I thought OK, that’s a Minor, no problem. You’re still in the game. Get it together and you can do this. After all, you can’t make an omelette with out breaking a few eggs.
‘At the exit to the Test Centre, I would like you to turn right please.’
Oh pooh. If she then says turn right at the next roundabout that’s just about the most awkward start to a Test going.
It’s a smallish roundabout which is also traffic-light controlled and the right-turn lane, once past the first exit, then evolves into two left-turning lanes within a very short space of time. But if you get caught by the lights you end up straddling both lanes with front and rear of truck.
‘At the next roundabout, I would like you to turn right, please.’
Oh come on… throw me a bone here!
OK, I can do this because I know made an arse of it yesterday and got Terry making one of his ‘unimpressed’ faces.
Phew… past that and now on to more ‘normal’ roads.
At this point, my examiner broke the ice and mentioned the beautiful sunshine that was percolating round the Tyne Valley.
Terry had assured me that Truck examiners weren’t like car examiners and were more ‘chatty’ and ‘relaxed’ in the way they go about things.
Don’t get me wrong, they are watching you like a hawk and won’t miss anything – but once I got warmed up and we started discussing a few topics, it was nice to be able to drive and talk to another ‘human being’.
From this point forward I settled into a much better rhythm and things started to flow a bit more smoothly.
I managed to avoid any kind of ‘pulling-out’ in front of someone situation, and I was quite happy with the overall standard of my driving.
Apparently my examiner is quite keen on the pulling over at the side of the road, and then moving off exercise – so I think I had about 6 of those, including one which was clearly the hill-start version of that. Again, no problems.
By the time my Independent Drive section had come round, we were certainly in the advanced stages of the test, Luckily by this time, and via the chat we had established already, my Examiner knew I wasn’t a local and was basically driving on unfamiliar roads. I think this bore fruit when I came to a multi-laned approach to a roundabout. I was in what would have been the wrong approach lane, until she most graciously re-stated her directions with a hand-gesture. Reacting to this successfully I think, helped along what may have become a more problematic situation.
And that was it, before long we were back at the Test Centre in Gosforth.
After a little bit of ticking here and crossing there, my Examiner looked across at me with the news that…
PASSED
With 8 minors (1 being the shunt in reversing)
So, at this point I would like to thank my parents for all their support over the years. To Terry, for bringing me through from an incompetent pile of …. yeah, yeah you get the idea.
Of course, now you know the result and are not going to read much more I will keep things short and sweet.
Louise - No buttie today (straight home after test) But test suitably, ‘smashed’.
Richie - It seems sometimes the good guys do win and there is a happy ending. Although let’s keep the Brokeback Mountain analogies to the minimum please 
Rog - Silly things were certainly done, but none of them bad enough to fail.
Pete – Yes the plan is on track. Next it’s on to C+E.
Jonesk - It’s perfectly possible he’s on here. I know he’s perfectly capable because his smartphone is bigger, better and more complicated then mine 
Take care all and thanks for the support.
See you at the next hurdle for more rambling from me.
Jon
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