Biggles:
And the misses recons thats not you in that pic.
sdj
Hah! Yeah I know,I’ve often been mistaken for Burt Reynolds.
Or was it Debbie Reynolds?
Whatever.
Didnt she “do Dallas?” 
By the way, Keith, it was a very good photo mate, you could have a very profitable sideline there 
did a truck mag do an article on you when you worked for a danish firm the pictures seem to ring a bell 
dreva:
did a truck mag do an article on you when you worked for a danish firm the pictures seem to ring a bell
Erm,yes they did,but it was a Swedish firm.
Wheel Nut:
that kalamari tastes like the insides of an old golf ballWhen you were in the National did you see George?
Good Story Keith, I will have to make time and type some of my adventures! although it will read more like My Mistakes
george? they was all called george.!!!
Me and a mate on our way back from Stanley Bull where we had picked up a couple of birds,stopped of at the National as you do.
When we went in for a meal,these birds thought it hilarious that we called all the waiters George.But when George turned to the bird and said,“And what would you like George?”,well that cracked us all up!
They were all called George except for the big old waitress with the moustache, she was Georgina and if you didnt eat all your mixed gril, she would give you a right old B#**#king…What about the Slivovitch ■■ Uhhhh.
GS
Finally I have time to continue from where I left off…
After dropping the trailer that I’d bought back from Yugoslavia in Felixstowe it was a quick trip home in the unit for clean clothes,food and money.
Then over to our yard in Ipswich to pick up the trailer that had been loaded for Zagreb and Athens.No belly tank on this one as it’s a rental trailer so Fred hands over a wad of cash for running money (actually I had to prise it from his fingers as he doesn’t like parting with money!) then it’s down to Dover for the boat to Ostend.
I never was a big fan of the Dover-Ostend crossing,the cabins were down in the murky,smelly bowels of the ship and as well as the food not being up to much,the crew were downright un-friendly.But such is life.
Belgium was it’s usual-self,nothing to speak about,except to remember to exit the Brussls ring just by the Atomium and re-enter.At that time the bridge at that exit was quite low and there was always a danger of clouting it as you went under so we always went off and on again.
Aachen,the usual sorting out of paperwork and dreading the tank-schein in case you were a bit over,but all went well.
And so after an overnight stop it was down through Germany to the Austrian border at Freilassing and those nice friendly Austrian customs men.
After queueing up for nearly an hour,the curtain draws back and I hand the papers over,and stand and wait.And wait.And wait.
An hour later the curtain draws back again and the papers are thrown out at me and the man say’s ‘Nix Gut’! Before I can ask him what the problem is,the curtain is closed again and he’s gone,so I bang on the window and ask what the problem is.No reply,so I wander off to find an agent to look through them and see if they can see what the problem is,and they say there’s nothing wrong with any of it.
So I go back into the customs hall and queue up again,at a different window this time,and after another hour’s waiting I hand the paper’s over to a different customs officer and within twenty minutes he’s handed them back all stamped and signed!Marvellous!
Apart from the Austrian customs,I find Austria a lovely place to drive through,nice scenery,good roads and the food ain’t bad either.
And so I press on down the A10 turning off on to the 308 and past Schladming.
Schladming is not only famous for hosting the winter Olympics but also for the Destination Doha film,as it was here that John Williams and the rest of the troop spent a weekend skiing on their way to Doha.
The day see’s me moving ever eastwards past Graz and to the Austrian-Yugo border at Spielfeld.
The Austrian side goes very smoothly,the Yugo side is made up of several wooden huts where at the first you hand in the paper’s where they work out transit-tax according to weight etc.they then give you a slip of paper with the amount on which you must pay.You then have to take this to the next hut which is the bank,there you must change either US dollars,D-marks or pounds sterling into Yugo dinars,and it’s no use trying to use any dinars left over from a previous trip,you have to change exactly the amount on the slip of paper,which they stamp,and then it’s back to the first hut to hand over the money and show them the receipt.
When that’s done it’s passport control then cabin control,where they will try to relieve you of anything that catches their eye.Though I’ve never smoked in my life,I always carry a few hundred ■■■■ to smooth things over in just this sort of situation.
The barrier is finally lifted and I’m off down the road to Intereuropa in Zagreb.
The next morning I hand in the paper’s bright and early and am unloading various bits of groupage within a couple of hours,then it’s time to get the trailer re-sealed and the carnet stamped and make tracks for Belgrade.
Tonight I will be feasting on steak and chips washed down with a few beers at the Hotel National.
Arriving at the Hotel National late evening I meet up with several Brit’s who are either going to or coming back from the Gulf and a good time is had by all and I finally creep back to the cab just after midnight,avoiding the ladies of the night of course 
The next morning I awake with a headache,I can’t think why?
After a wash and a coffee I bid farewell to the National and start my way east again,passing Belgrade and onward to Nis,where I split right for Greece and the other’s go left for Bulgaria.The sun is out and everything is going well,even if I am a bit behind schedule after this morning’s late start.
It’s late afternoon when I decide to pull in between Skopje and Titov Veles and make a sandwich and have a brew.It’s whilst I’m sitting there that a Milicja car pulls up and ask’s for my disc,so I show it to him and he say’s I’m speeding.
Where have I been speeding? I’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour!
All TIR’s schpeedink he say’s,and he tries to fine me,but after a bit of haggling he drives of with half a pack of Benson&Hedges.Done job.
And so it’s back on the road once again,arriving at the Yugo-Greek border of Gevgelija/Evzoni in the evening and I decide to do the border tonight as it’s quiet.
Which is a good move as it turned out,because just after I crawl out of bed around 10am a couple of Brits arrive who say it has taken them five hours to get through.
At the Shell station on the Greek side of the border I meet up with some more Brits,two of which are on their way back from Baghdad.They are two oldish guy’s,each with a 2800 DAF,and it turns out they alway’s run together.One of them offer’s to make me a cup of tea,and just as I am going to accept,his mate is standing behind him shaking his head ‘No!’ so I decline his kind offer.
His mate then tells me on the quiet that the pan he uses for making tea is the one he uses for everything else,cooking,washing and even as a toilet during the night 
Phew! That was lucky.
And so just before lunch I bid farewell to everyone and start making my way south,yet again behind schedule.
It then takes me the rest of the day and into the night to drive past Thessalonika,Larisa and Lamia to Pireaus and find the customs compound.
The next morning I hand my paper’s in to the agent who tells me to come back Monday morning (This is now Friday morning) so if I hadn’t have hung around so much I may have got cleared today.But what the hell,why worry about it when the job takes weeks rather than day’s!
So it’s back to the parking and say Hi! to some other driver’s who are also there for the weekend.There are a couple of lads from Kelly Freight,one from Lagan Transport,one from Swains of Stretton and a couple of guys from Cammel Wagon,all with fridges,I’m the only one with a tilt!
I get chatting to Tony,one of the Cammel Wagon driver’s,who tells me that the other driver is a Dutchman and it’s his first trip abroad.
“It’ll be his last trip too,if I have anything to do with it!” say’s Tony.
Apparently the Dutch driver has been on the beer ever since they left the UK,even when driving,and has been right up to Tony’s back-bumper all the way down.So Tony has phoned his boss in Dagenham and told him that as soon as they get back the Dutchman has to go.
We all wander over to the bar in the evening to partake in a beer or two,or three,or several as it turned out! While we’re sitting there putting the world to right’s the inn-keeper comes over with a plate of grey matter and say’s ‘On the house,eat!’ to which Eddie,the Lagan driver replies “Ah! Calamari,oi love this stuff” and starts tucking into it,as do the other’s.
‘Aren’t you having any?’,asks Eddie,well it didn’t look very appetising,but in for a penny as they say.It wasn’t bad,in fact it was quite good,but I still didn’t know what the hell it was!
The next morning we decide to walk into town and find a supermarket to buy some potatoes and onions,the guy’s that are still loaded have hanging beef on board for the American bases,so we are going to dine on steak the rest of ther weekend.
On the way to the supermarket we pass the bar we had been in the night before,and outside on chairs drying in the sun are some sqiud,“Ugh! I say,look at that,they’re disgusting!” At which point everyone starts laughing,Hah! say’s Eddie,‘You didn’t mind eating it last night,that’s Calamari!’
Oh god I feel ill 
We find a supermarket and pick out some spuds and onions,while we are doing this Tony’s mate,the Dutchman,has picked up a bottle of whisky and stuffed it inside his jacket! Tony tells him to put it back as he’ll get us all locked up,but he just walks out of the door with it as bold as brass!
While we are paying for our groceries,the Dutchman strolls back in,bottle in hand and asks the checkout girl for a bag to put the whisky in,which she gives him.
When we get back to the trucks Tony has a real go at his mate,and as things start getting out of hand we intervene to calm Tony down.But what he say’s is right,we could all have ended up in gaol because of his stupidity.
That evening we cook in the back of one of the empty fridges,steak,chips and fried onions washed down with copious amounts of beer.Luvvly jubbly!
Next morning,after steak for breakfast,the Swains driver and myself fancy a bit of sight-seeing,so seeing as some of the other’s who are empty will be leaving for Patras at lunchtime,we bid them farewell and wish them a safe journey.
I drop my trailer and we make our way across Athens to visit the Acropolis,where I park the truck in the coach parkand have my pic taken
then it’s back to base camp for our evening meal.Of steak and chips.Again.
Monday morning and it’s back into the agent to see how things are progressing.Apparently I will be cleared today and can unload tomorrow.
So I have to spend the rest of the day amusing myself and doing cab-control.
The other’s left early this morning to unload and they will then drive up to Patras for the ferry to Ancona.
Tuesday morning and I’m empty by 10am,telex the office for instructions and am told to reload tyres in Kranj,Yugoslavia.Which is a long way to run empty,but they are doing the planning!
Tuesday evening once again see’s me at the border with Yugoslavia,this time I’m the only Brit here,so no need to hang around.I park for the night near Titov Veles and put a tin of sausages in the pan for a couple of sarnies.
Wednesday see’s me once again at the Hotel National in Belgrade,I just take a coffee and a sandwich as after stuffing myself silly on steak all weekend I can’t stomach another one for a day or two.I check all the telex’s on the reception desk to see if any of our trucks will be passing through,but the only one for us is over a week old,so he must be delayed somewhere or taken another route.
It is Thurday afternoon when I arrive at the Sava tyre factory in Kranj and have to wait until tomorrow morning to load.I find a restaurant in the village and meet up with a Dutch driver who is also loading at Sava,for two drops in Germany and one in Holland.He does the same trip every week.
Tonight it’s chicken,getting fed up with steak and chips.
Friday morning and we load complete with car tyres,and then have to wait until late afternoon for the customs to arrive and sort out the carnet.Or so we thought,the customs man didn’t arrive at all,apparently it was his son’s birthday and couldn’t be bothered.
So Saturday morning he arrives just after 11am and within twenty minutes we are on our way to the Austrian border at Ljubelj where we make the papers
and try to get as far as we can before the weekend ban,which is where we are now.At the border.
It’s a holiday in Austia today so we are stuck here until Sunday night.Marvellous.
The rest of Saturday is spent in a drunken stupor whilst we drown our sorrow’s and once again put the world to right’s.
Sunday night and we are the first ones away from the border as Klagenfurt and Villach speed past the window,and on through the Tauern tunnel
before we make a stop for some sleep.
It’s afternoon before we are cleared and through the German border and time for an overnight stop.For me at least,the Dutch driver has to make up time and so he presses on to catch up on his schedule.
As for me,the rest of the trip went as it should do and I arrived back in Felixstowe and took a well earned break.Well,for a couple of day’s anyway.
Then it was off again.
Parked for sightseeing
My hair was dark with the odd grey bit then.Now it’s the other way round
On the way back up through Yugoslavia.
Hope you’ve enjoyed the tale.
KW: thanks for the story, can we please have some more of your memories here on the site, the tale of your trip was good.
same here KW,very enjoyable reading.
Excellent pic’s and story KW .
Nice one KW, keep em coming,
Really enjoyable reading.
great story, KW. I’m jealous.
Excellent story KW, please keep them coming
Well done K.W. an interesting read…brought back those memories again…i hope theres more to follow…
excellent kw saw you sunday evening at 7 pm northbound on the a1 at grantham
Great read Keith, keep 'em coming.
jessicas dad:
excellent kw saw you sunday evening at 7 pm northbound on the a1 at grantham
Guilty
Great story and pics KW,I remember Archers in days of old .
regards derek
that kalamari tastes like the insides of an old golf ball 
When you were in the National did you see George?
Good Story Keith, I will have to make time and type some of my adventures! although it will read more like My Mistakes 