This is typed live, with no review, no preconception as to just WHAT it is I am gonna write about and no editing whatsoever. As a result, be prepared for typos and all kinds of errors!!!!!!!!
Language is a wonderful thing. In recent times I have had exposure to a whole heap of new language, words and accents. It has been and continues to be a wonderful, exuberant and joyful ride. I have been educated in many ways during my lifetime, but this, surely, has been the best form of education of them all.
I have been learning not just the words, their meaning and annunciation, but also all the nuances that go with them. I have also recently had such kindness shared with me.
I am learning that many words of the same language are so changed by region as to be unrecognisable. I am learning that inflection and usage dictates meaning far more than "dictionary meaning".
But more than any of that, I am learning that there is a far more universal language than mere words. It is attitude and ..... I guess you could call it "heart", when it is positive and disregard when it is negative.
The bulk of my life is positive, there is no two ways about that. In fact, there is little or nothing in this life that I have a right to complain about. Most of the "negatives" in my life I have brought about myself, anyway, and it is for me to repair.
Life for me, right now, is perhaps a tad bitter sweet, for there is much of it that is wonderful beyond compare, but just beyond my grasp. I have to say that there is far more sugar than there is lemon, though!
As I type this, a very good mate of mine is wandering around like the lost tribes of Israel, doing multiple deliveries of bloody FURNITURE in some inhospitable part of the country and relishing the opportunities rather than wallowing in "why me's", dealing with all sorts of issues whilst I am just sitting on my fat arse, waiting to unload. When you think about things like that, you realise that anything you may perceive as negative in your life really has little relevance. It is merely perspective.
A bit like language, really! It depends on the context, how you use it and how you care to interpret it!
Friday, March 13, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Stunned!
GerDay All,
I am perplexed. I have visited various sites on Youtube and have been in absolute awe of the efforts and abilities of various people who present material.
Without a shadow of a doubt, I regard my little mate's work (LittleTrucker1972) as being the best there is - not just because she does superlative editing, but largely because if who SHE is and how SHE presents herself.
She does so completely unconsciously and without deliberation. I think she just IS as she appears to be, and people warm to her as a result. I know I have.
I have seen the work of others, and they are just so mind boggling. Just fabulous.
So, today I post this crappy little video, in fast forward, of absolutely NOTHING but the desert and all helll breaks loose. Why is it so?
The video itself is terrible. The stuff AROUND it is no better - yet it gained all sorts of "honours" - whatever they are.
Thus I got to thinking about these honours and I have come to the conclusion that honours do NOT honour the presenter at all (which I suspect is how it is intended). Honours are acknowledgent of the activities of the viewers, rather than the owner and, those viewers are what makes Youtube what it is - dynamic and live!
So, I must say "thankyou" to all Youtubers who share with us their lives, their loves and their losses, with good faith and humour.
I would especially like to thank all of you who have taken the effort to visit, who have advised me and who have just plain ol' "been there".
Above all others, thanks to Terry for just being so gentle and accommodating with me!
Kindest Regards
Indy
I am perplexed. I have visited various sites on Youtube and have been in absolute awe of the efforts and abilities of various people who present material.
Without a shadow of a doubt, I regard my little mate's work (LittleTrucker1972) as being the best there is - not just because she does superlative editing, but largely because if who SHE is and how SHE presents herself.
She does so completely unconsciously and without deliberation. I think she just IS as she appears to be, and people warm to her as a result. I know I have.
I have seen the work of others, and they are just so mind boggling. Just fabulous.
So, today I post this crappy little video, in fast forward, of absolutely NOTHING but the desert and all helll breaks loose. Why is it so?
The video itself is terrible. The stuff AROUND it is no better - yet it gained all sorts of "honours" - whatever they are.
Thus I got to thinking about these honours and I have come to the conclusion that honours do NOT honour the presenter at all (which I suspect is how it is intended). Honours are acknowledgent of the activities of the viewers, rather than the owner and, those viewers are what makes Youtube what it is - dynamic and live!
So, I must say "thankyou" to all Youtubers who share with us their lives, their loves and their losses, with good faith and humour.
I would especially like to thank all of you who have taken the effort to visit, who have advised me and who have just plain ol' "been there".
Above all others, thanks to Terry for just being so gentle and accommodating with me!
Kindest Regards
Indy
Friday, February 20, 2009
I have been involved in a discussion on a forum and this is my response (in part) to other postings!
On a completely different note, many of us (myself included) look back on those "old" days with rose coloured glasses. Memory is a funny thing. It removes (or dumps in the bit/byte basket) unpleasant memories and retains the triumphs. I know I do.
I often claim that things were better in the "good old days" - but were they REALLY???? I remember a mate incinerated on Tarcutta Rough, conscious and screaming to be put out of his misery, long before the flames got to him. I know. I was there. To this day I cannot stand the smell of burning hair and, on occasion, am haunted by his screams of fear when some idiot tries to commit suicide in front of me, or something else triggers the memory and the nightmares.
I remember another decapitated by the overhang of the load on a trailer in front that he chuffed on the Pilliga. Another that had his innards spread all over the road when he was fished out of a cabover KW over between Guyra and the coast.
I remember trucks that you could barely sit in, had no heaters in winter (but an excellent hearter in summer) and flow through ventillation in winter, but no cooling in summer.
I dunno how many I remember involved in crashes on Razorback (and the rest of that road through Picton etc), the Cullullerines (I even forget how to spell that), the one of MT's that went up the wall in Sylvia's when the gearstick went up between the spokes of the steering wheel, and so it goes on.
I also have scars where my nose was ripped off my face when I tried to be superman and "do that extra mile" and rolled over.
I drove trucks that were capable of the speed of light (so to speak) and so, too, did probably many of you, but, in reality, how much of my survival through that period of time was due to my unparallelled skills and how much was pure good fortune??? Good fortune that a bullock didn't walk out in front of something doing 160 on the Hay Plains. Good fortune that rag tyres didn't disintergrate with a payload of 55 Ton (not tonnes) on a single. With modern, tubeless, steel belted radials not such a miracle, but bloody old rags?????
There is no doubt that a certain degree of training and skill played a part in my not being demised, but I suggest there was a helluver lot of plain old luck! % wise, I suggest that there was more luck than good management!!!!!!!!
I suggest, also, this applied to many more than just me.
In those days, everything was different and, fortunately there was far less traffic volumes - particularly cars.
Do we really want to revisit those days?
Me?
Not on your life!
Yeah! My glasses aren't so rosy, I can tell you.
Kindest Regards
Indy
On a completely different note, many of us (myself included) look back on those "old" days with rose coloured glasses. Memory is a funny thing. It removes (or dumps in the bit/byte basket) unpleasant memories and retains the triumphs. I know I do.
I often claim that things were better in the "good old days" - but were they REALLY???? I remember a mate incinerated on Tarcutta Rough, conscious and screaming to be put out of his misery, long before the flames got to him. I know. I was there. To this day I cannot stand the smell of burning hair and, on occasion, am haunted by his screams of fear when some idiot tries to commit suicide in front of me, or something else triggers the memory and the nightmares.
I remember another decapitated by the overhang of the load on a trailer in front that he chuffed on the Pilliga. Another that had his innards spread all over the road when he was fished out of a cabover KW over between Guyra and the coast.
I remember trucks that you could barely sit in, had no heaters in winter (but an excellent hearter in summer) and flow through ventillation in winter, but no cooling in summer.
I dunno how many I remember involved in crashes on Razorback (and the rest of that road through Picton etc), the Cullullerines (I even forget how to spell that), the one of MT's that went up the wall in Sylvia's when the gearstick went up between the spokes of the steering wheel, and so it goes on.
I also have scars where my nose was ripped off my face when I tried to be superman and "do that extra mile" and rolled over.
I drove trucks that were capable of the speed of light (so to speak) and so, too, did probably many of you, but, in reality, how much of my survival through that period of time was due to my unparallelled skills and how much was pure good fortune??? Good fortune that a bullock didn't walk out in front of something doing 160 on the Hay Plains. Good fortune that rag tyres didn't disintergrate with a payload of 55 Ton (not tonnes) on a single. With modern, tubeless, steel belted radials not such a miracle, but bloody old rags?????
There is no doubt that a certain degree of training and skill played a part in my not being demised, but I suggest there was a helluver lot of plain old luck! % wise, I suggest that there was more luck than good management!!!!!!!!
I suggest, also, this applied to many more than just me.
In those days, everything was different and, fortunately there was far less traffic volumes - particularly cars.
Do we really want to revisit those days?
Me?
Not on your life!
Yeah! My glasses aren't so rosy, I can tell you.
Kindest Regards
Indy
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Ballad of John Mantell
I wrote this immediately on hearing of John's death. It is an adaptation of a traditional ballad.
Let me tell you, briefly, Mental Mantell's story and my relationship to him.
I met John Mantell more years ago than I care to remember, whilst I was still serving in the military. When I left, Mantell taught me all there was to know (or at least all I was capable of learning) about the transport industry as it exists in the real world, as against the rarefied atmosphere that I had been used to in the services. I regarded him as my best mate and he was more like a brother to me than a mentor.
I have to say that there is a bit of poetic licence in what I wrote, but I have tried to capture the essence of John Mantell, as well as my reaction to learning that he had been killed in a tragic crash.
I have to say that I was so pleased that both John's widow, Mary, and his son Benny were at the reunion.
Whilst I wrote this about John I think the sentiments expressed could apply to many of our contemporaries who are no longer with us.
Mantell's Ballad
A group of well known truckies
Were talking on CB
Said one "I'll tell you somethin' boys
If you will listen please
I am a burnt out driver
And listen all you wags
I used to be a tough one
And I drove on great big drags.""I have got a home boys
A good one you all know
Although I have not seen it
Since many weeks ago
I'm going back to Wagga
Once more to see them all
I'm going to see my missus
When the work's all done, once more.""I've driven all the fast trucks
And even big road trains
Way out in the outback
Upon the rolling plains
I've travelled the great northland
The south and in the west
I've driven all the bush tracks
And I know which ones are best.""I've driven in the cities
And carted livestock too
While you were all in nappies
I brought the milk to you
I've seen so many wondrous things
Across our sunburnt land
I've never left a mate behind
I was taught to lend a hand.""I have got a home boys
A good one you all know
Although I have not seen it
Since many weeks ago
I'm going back to Wagga
Once more to see them all
I'm going to see my family
When the work's all done, once more."That very night this fellow
Went out to drive his truck
The night was cold and frosty
And he ran out of luck
Another truck did jackknife
Onto old John did fall
Mantell won't see his family
When the work's all done, once more.His body was so battered
Young Danny thought him dead
He picked up an old blanket
And he laid it o'er John's head
Mantell opened wide his green eyes
And looking all around
He motioned to his comrade
To sit with him on the ground"Dan, send Mary my money
The wages I have earned
For I am afraid, mate
My last wheel I have turned
I'm going to a new road
I hear my Master call
I'll not see my family
When the work's all done, once more"Poor Johnny was buried at Wagga
No tombstone at his head
Nothing but a little plaque
And this is what it said
"Johnny was killed before daylight
A truck on him did fall
Poor boy won't see his family
When the works all done. That's all.In remembrance of my best mate, John Mantellntell. Killed tragically near Glen Innes, today, 11th August 1992.
© Indy Rosser, PO Box 249, Hay NSW 2711
Sunday, February 15, 2009
GerDay All,
The idea of posting this and similar yarns against myself being that, by telling these yarns, you are having a bit of a dig at yourself, but in doing so, you share something that may, just may, prevent someone else following the same path(s) as you did!
Old Indy (that's me) was driving a quad dog, heading for a destination in Smithfield in Sydney.
Having consulted the book that tells no lies (yeah, right), otherwise known as a street directory, I knew I had to turn left just after the next hard right hand bend. What I didn't realise, however, was that the left turn was right ON the bend. Oooops!
Hmmmmm Peak hour traffic! Ugh! Don't really wanna back up in this.
Light bulb goes on (WITHOUT consulting the "book"). If I turn right at this next street, I should be able to go down there, hang a right at the next street, hang another right and come in behind where I should have been! What a good plan, thought I!
Only one problem. The street I turned into was narrow. Oh, well! It'll be right! I'll just poke down here a ways and ...... ooooops .... is that a right angle LEFT hand bend up ahead?? There are cars parked everywhere, narrowing the road .... considerably. Never mind! Forge ahead! What dramas can I get into? This is Smithfield, isn't it - an industrial area?
Go around the sharp left hand bend and see a long straight with a right hand bend at the end!
This is getting better! Oooooppps! Except cars are now parked even closer on the road (leaving me inches on either side) and the factories are turning into houses! Ugh!
Get down to the next right hand bend and see another one a couple of hundred yards ahead! Beauty! Still tight for cars being parked, but the job will be right! I will just drive out the other end .......
Or will I?
Go around next right hand bend and there it is! A culdersac (how do you spell that?). Not only is it a culdersac, but you couldn't turn a bloody mini moke around in it! Oooooopps and double ooooopps!
Seven O'clock in the morning. Middle of winter! Reversing beeper waking all the residents up who, naturally, want to view the fun. Sweat pouring out of me everywhere. Air conditioner on full. All the residents having a first class gawd at the proceedings.
Indy has to back quad dog BETWEEN all the cars parked long the road (had enough bloody trouble driving forwards between them), round 2 right angle right hand corners, then (still with cars around leaving me no "swinging room"), back around the LEFT hand (or blind side) bend, then across the traffic on the main road, horns blaring, tempers fraying and Indy looking like he has just emerged from a tropical storm.
The whole exercise cost me, maybe, 2 1/2 hours, 3 stone of weight lost in sweat, and bloody blood pressure through the roof! It was, however, high entertainment for the residents! They loved it. I know this because, having followed me all the way back down the street (about 2 miles), in their dressing gowns and PJ's, they gave me a clap and a cheer as I departed, horribly embarrassed!
Yep! Won't EVER turn up that street again! Come to think of it, no matter how busy it is, or what the traffic levels are, NEXT time I am gonna stop, READ THE BLOODY MAP, before I choose some hair brained scheme like turn "blindly" up a dead end street!
Kindest Regards
Indy
The idea of posting this and similar yarns against myself being that, by telling these yarns, you are having a bit of a dig at yourself, but in doing so, you share something that may, just may, prevent someone else following the same path(s) as you did!
Old Indy (that's me) was driving a quad dog, heading for a destination in Smithfield in Sydney.
Having consulted the book that tells no lies (yeah, right), otherwise known as a street directory, I knew I had to turn left just after the next hard right hand bend. What I didn't realise, however, was that the left turn was right ON the bend. Oooops!
Hmmmmm Peak hour traffic! Ugh! Don't really wanna back up in this.
Light bulb goes on (WITHOUT consulting the "book"). If I turn right at this next street, I should be able to go down there, hang a right at the next street, hang another right and come in behind where I should have been! What a good plan, thought I!
Only one problem. The street I turned into was narrow. Oh, well! It'll be right! I'll just poke down here a ways and ...... ooooops .... is that a right angle LEFT hand bend up ahead?? There are cars parked everywhere, narrowing the road .... considerably. Never mind! Forge ahead! What dramas can I get into? This is Smithfield, isn't it - an industrial area?
Go around the sharp left hand bend and see a long straight with a right hand bend at the end!
This is getting better! Oooooppps! Except cars are now parked even closer on the road (leaving me inches on either side) and the factories are turning into houses! Ugh!
Get down to the next right hand bend and see another one a couple of hundred yards ahead! Beauty! Still tight for cars being parked, but the job will be right! I will just drive out the other end .......
Or will I?
Go around next right hand bend and there it is! A culdersac (how do you spell that?). Not only is it a culdersac, but you couldn't turn a bloody mini moke around in it! Oooooopps and double ooooopps!
Seven O'clock in the morning. Middle of winter! Reversing beeper waking all the residents up who, naturally, want to view the fun. Sweat pouring out of me everywhere. Air conditioner on full. All the residents having a first class gawd at the proceedings.
Indy has to back quad dog BETWEEN all the cars parked long the road (had enough bloody trouble driving forwards between them), round 2 right angle right hand corners, then (still with cars around leaving me no "swinging room"), back around the LEFT hand (or blind side) bend, then across the traffic on the main road, horns blaring, tempers fraying and Indy looking like he has just emerged from a tropical storm.
The whole exercise cost me, maybe, 2 1/2 hours, 3 stone of weight lost in sweat, and bloody blood pressure through the roof! It was, however, high entertainment for the residents! They loved it. I know this because, having followed me all the way back down the street (about 2 miles), in their dressing gowns and PJ's, they gave me a clap and a cheer as I departed, horribly embarrassed!
Yep! Won't EVER turn up that street again! Come to think of it, no matter how busy it is, or what the traffic levels are, NEXT time I am gonna stop, READ THE BLOODY MAP, before I choose some hair brained scheme like turn "blindly" up a dead end street!
Kindest Regards
Indy
Sub note to Terry: - I have already posted this and the next one, as you know, elsewhere on your site, but the lessons are so valid I think I will re-run them here as a blog! :-)
(Sub Titled Directions 101)
To "B" Or Not To "B" (Double)
GerDay All,
Directions, or more correctly, the directions given to you by SOME customers. Don't you love it?
This is a (true) story about a certain b-double driver in the tipper game who now drives quad dogs. This isn't WHY he chooses NOT to drive doubles, but occurances like this and similar have gone a long way to convincing said driver that they (b-doubles) are just way too big a pain in the aaarrrrse. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and the not so innocent!!!
Dialled the customer's number.
RING RING
CUSTOMER: "Hello. Farmer Brown speaking". (Very slow drawl here - visions of straws in mouths, eating apples through tennis raquets and Dueling Banjos immediately jumped into the driver's mind. More especially because it was up in them thar hills)!
DRIVER: "GerDay mate. How are ya goin'? This is Joe Bloggs from the Routine Tipper Service. I gotta load of Superfect for ya, mate. Now, I am driving a 25 metre B-double and I am at Bidelonia. How do I get to yer place from here, please, mate"?
CUSTOMER: "Ow mutchya got orn, mate"?
DRIVER: "43 tonnes. I can't deliver it, though, unless you tell me how to find you".
CUSTOMER: "That's orrrrright, mate".
DRIVER: "So. How do I get there"?
CUSTOMER: "Ahhhhh. Right! Well yer drive East outta town fer about 10 en then ya turn orf".
LONG PAUSE
DRIVER: "Ten what and which way"?
CUSTOMER: "Ay"?
DRIVER: "I drive out of town to the East for 10. 10 what? Minutes? Miles? Kilometres?"
CUSTOMER: "Aw. Right" .
PAUSE
CUSTOMER: "It ud be about 10 mile, I reckon".
DRIVER: "Thanks. We're gettin' somewhere now. Which way"?
CUSTOMER: "Ay"?
DRIVER: "Which way do I turn"?
CUSTOMER: "Aw. Right".
DRIVER: "Right"?
CUSTOMER: "Yeah. Right, right".
And so it went on for 15 minutes. The last sentence from the farmer was :-
CUSTOMER: "Now that road's pretty narrer and if yer come to a little bridge yer've gorn too fer by about 5 miles and yer'll have ter back up a bit".
DRIVER: "I'm in a b-double".
CUSTOMER: "Yeah".
(Isn't it funny how they tell you what you will see when you've gone too far but no land mark just BEFORE the new directive?)
DRIVER: "Are you sure it's a b-double route".
CUSTOMER: "Yer".
PAUSE
DRIVER: "You had a b-double there before"?
CUSTOMER: "Yer".
DRIVER: "Righto. I am on my way".
Phone goes clunk in his ear. These hillbillies don't go much on good byes!
So out heads our intrepid driver, following the directions PRECISELY. That last road sure is narrow. In fact it is just 2 wheel tracks in amongst the trees (and I mean state forest type trees - thick as), in the grass. You get the drift. He decides to ring farmer.
RING RING
CUSTOMER: "Yer lorst?"
DRIVER: "Nah! Are you sure this is a b-double route"?
CUSTOMER: "Yer".
SILENCE
DRIVER: "Okay. I will keep coming."
CUSTOMER: "Right."
CLUNK of phone.
It turns out it is a b-double route of sorts - for log trucks!
Driver gets to the gate, eventually, and discovers that you would be flat out getting a single through the gate way. Rings farmer.
RING RING
CUSTOMER: "Yer"?
DRIVER: "Mate. You better come down here. I am at your gate and there's no way in hell I am gonna get through it."
CUSTOMER: "Right".
CLUNK
10 minutes later farmer arrives.
CUSTOMER: "Aw, sheet. We never had a b-double as big as that before"!
Turns out that he had previously only ever had quad dogs! Thus driver had to double unhook on the "road" - you know, this great b-double track in the grass, between the trees. Since he couldn't leave the b trailer on the road for long, it meant a quadruple unhook. You know. Drop b. Take a in. Drop a. Pick up b. Unhook b as a is sinking. Hook on to a, unload (up a bloody auger that was as slow as). Drop a. Hook on to b. You work the rest out.
Then boss rings.
Boss: "What took you so long"?
DRIVER: "*&^@^%$#T@*&^#%$#&%^$@& ^%#(**&% and other naughty words"
Don't you just love directions?
Kindest Regards
Indy
(Sub Titled Directions 101)
To "B" Or Not To "B" (Double)
GerDay All,
Directions, or more correctly, the directions given to you by SOME customers. Don't you love it?
This is a (true) story about a certain b-double driver in the tipper game who now drives quad dogs. This isn't WHY he chooses NOT to drive doubles, but occurances like this and similar have gone a long way to convincing said driver that they (b-doubles) are just way too big a pain in the aaarrrrse. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and the not so innocent!!!
Dialled the customer's number.
RING RING
CUSTOMER: "Hello. Farmer Brown speaking". (Very slow drawl here - visions of straws in mouths, eating apples through tennis raquets and Dueling Banjos immediately jumped into the driver's mind. More especially because it was up in them thar hills)!
DRIVER: "GerDay mate. How are ya goin'? This is Joe Bloggs from the Routine Tipper Service. I gotta load of Superfect for ya, mate. Now, I am driving a 25 metre B-double and I am at Bidelonia. How do I get to yer place from here, please, mate"?
CUSTOMER: "Ow mutchya got orn, mate"?
DRIVER: "43 tonnes. I can't deliver it, though, unless you tell me how to find you".
CUSTOMER: "That's orrrrright, mate".
DRIVER: "So. How do I get there"?
CUSTOMER: "Ahhhhh. Right! Well yer drive East outta town fer about 10 en then ya turn orf".
LONG PAUSE
DRIVER: "Ten what and which way"?
CUSTOMER: "Ay"?
DRIVER: "I drive out of town to the East for 10. 10 what? Minutes? Miles? Kilometres?"
CUSTOMER: "Aw. Right" .
PAUSE
CUSTOMER: "It ud be about 10 mile, I reckon".
DRIVER: "Thanks. We're gettin' somewhere now. Which way"?
CUSTOMER: "Ay"?
DRIVER: "Which way do I turn"?
CUSTOMER: "Aw. Right".
DRIVER: "Right"?
CUSTOMER: "Yeah. Right, right".
And so it went on for 15 minutes. The last sentence from the farmer was :-
CUSTOMER: "Now that road's pretty narrer and if yer come to a little bridge yer've gorn too fer by about 5 miles and yer'll have ter back up a bit".
DRIVER: "I'm in a b-double".
CUSTOMER: "Yeah".
(Isn't it funny how they tell you what you will see when you've gone too far but no land mark just BEFORE the new directive?)
DRIVER: "Are you sure it's a b-double route".
CUSTOMER: "Yer".
PAUSE
DRIVER: "You had a b-double there before"?
CUSTOMER: "Yer".
DRIVER: "Righto. I am on my way".
Phone goes clunk in his ear. These hillbillies don't go much on good byes!
So out heads our intrepid driver, following the directions PRECISELY. That last road sure is narrow. In fact it is just 2 wheel tracks in amongst the trees (and I mean state forest type trees - thick as), in the grass. You get the drift. He decides to ring farmer.
RING RING
CUSTOMER: "Yer lorst?"
DRIVER: "Nah! Are you sure this is a b-double route"?
CUSTOMER: "Yer".
SILENCE
DRIVER: "Okay. I will keep coming."
CUSTOMER: "Right."
CLUNK of phone.
It turns out it is a b-double route of sorts - for log trucks!
Driver gets to the gate, eventually, and discovers that you would be flat out getting a single through the gate way. Rings farmer.
RING RING
CUSTOMER: "Yer"?
DRIVER: "Mate. You better come down here. I am at your gate and there's no way in hell I am gonna get through it."
CUSTOMER: "Right".
CLUNK
10 minutes later farmer arrives.
CUSTOMER: "Aw, sheet. We never had a b-double as big as that before"!
Turns out that he had previously only ever had quad dogs! Thus driver had to double unhook on the "road" - you know, this great b-double track in the grass, between the trees. Since he couldn't leave the b trailer on the road for long, it meant a quadruple unhook. You know. Drop b. Take a in. Drop a. Pick up b. Unhook b as a is sinking. Hook on to a, unload (up a bloody auger that was as slow as). Drop a. Hook on to b. You work the rest out.
Then boss rings.
Boss: "What took you so long"?
DRIVER: "*&^@^%$#T@*&^#%$#&%^$@& ^%#(**&% and other naughty words"
Don't you just love directions?
Kindest Regards
Indy
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Professional Drivers
I keep hearing all these "professional" drivers whinging, bleating and moaning about the 4 wheelers. It seems that, according to these "professionals", they (the cars) dunno what they are doing, they get in the way, they do stupid things and so forth. Apparantly, they haven't any "common sense".
So? If you truly are the professional, then you will make allowances for the limitations of the car drivers. In any case, a true professional will have already read the traffic flows, understood that in all probability at least one of the car drivers will make a blunder. In short, if you're truly professional, you will be continually making risk assessments and value judgements!
Let us examine this a little closer.
- "Common sense". There is no such thing as common sense in the way most people enterpret it. Humans (with the exception of the likes of Einstein (how did he spell his name?) are incapable of making quantum leaps of either faith or logic. Everything they do is based on prior experience, knowledge, learning and training. By the very definition, you, as the professional, are supposed to have all of the above and (because car drivers are not professional, they could reasonably be assumed to have limited amounts of the same. Therefore, it is your responsibility, as the trained one (with the common sense - if you like) to protect them, not the other way around. This doesn't give car drivers any excuse for being dickheads, it just means you need to compensate for them if they are!
- If I were to take you out of your nice truck cabin and put you behind the wheel of a scalpel, threw you into an operating theatre and let you loose at brain surgery (without first adequately training you), how good a job do you think you would do of it? The reality, in Australia at least, the levels of training and knowledge of the average car driver is absolutely abysmal. You cannot blame them for it because the system has let them and us down badly, as it allows people who are abjectly incompetent to retain a drivers licence, be behind the wheel of a lethal weapon (a vehicle) and travel around with gay abandom with few restrictions and little supervision. Any wonder some of them make silly errors for they are often truly ignorant in the truest sense of the word!!
- So you're a truck driver and you're a good, courteous driver, eh? Wrong!!! Just because you hold a truck licence doesn't mean Jack Schitt! How you perform your task decrees your level of competence - just the same as the car drivers.
- Instead of going crook at them, why not quietly (without going off tap) educate them? Seems simple to me.
I have some really bad news for you.
- Laws are made by politicians in response to what they perceive are the wishes of the public (who vote them in or out), not necessarily because they are needed (the laws, I mean - hell - maybe the politicians as well!!!) or because they are desirable, or right and proper. Politicians are a pragmatic lot and realise that if they get the public in their area off side, then they can expect to lose their cushy job doing ................... never mind.
- 99.9999% of the public are ordinary motorists. (Read voters)
- 0.0001% of the public are in the road transport industry. (Read insignificant amount)
- 70% of the motorists who are voters are terrified of trucks. It doesn't matter why - they just are!
- A handful of dickheads who drive big jiggers, behaving like prized clowns scare the pants off the public who, understandably, don't remember the 99% of good operators they have encountered that day and cry to ..... guess who? Their local member who is a .................. you guessed it - politician.
- Thus a few behaving badly bring the dogs upon us all and end up having the most illiogical and draconian legislation jammed into us. Good one, idiot!
I know some of you are ill equipped to actually think, but try and struggle as much as you can and remember that the reason we are all copping all the shit these days is largely because a few behave irresponsibly and petrify the public.
Don't!
I have been here for 30 years and I intend to be here a fair while longer. I have an absolutely clean slate on my licence. I achieve a good income without incidents. The chances are that I will still be here, in this industry, tomorrow. Chances are that you, if you behave like a dickhead, will not.
Don't leave me and the rest of us out here your legacy of stupidity.
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