WE BOUGHT A LORRY TODAY ! !

WE BOUGHT A LORRY TODAY! (FEB 2001)

From Northcote Tales 1984 to 2009

We bought a lorry today!

Terena and John had been on at me for some time!

“When are we going to get something to pull that trailer?”

The trailer is not exactly a normal horse box. Its 20feet long and 8 feet wide. It is 9 feet high inside and must weigh over a ton.

Previously it was used to carry the wedding carriage and one horse. It will also take about 120 bales of hay (3.5 tons). The trailer was basically all we had at the Northcote Heavy Horse Centre to cart anything about. It was being used only very locally at present pulled by the centre’s agricultural tractor.

The long wheelbase “safari” Land Rover that used to tow it had been specially converted. It had a 3 litre Ford Essex v6 petrol engine that did 28mpg running without a trailer and 9mpg with THE trailer and full load.

BUT it would pull it! In top gear too.

The land rover died of rust worm several years ago and we just did not have any funds to replace it.

WHY A LORRY

After a Land Rover and trailer hit the national headlines earlier this year by running off the road near Doncaster and derailed an express train killing a large number of folk, we have been thinking again!

A lorry was what we really needed. Something with a large capacity engine and not expensive.

I had seen one advertised in the Farmers Guardian. But it was in Lancashire.

Foot and Mouth was all over the West Country and North West at this time but not in Lancashire!

If we were going to do anything it had to be quick.

A week or so passed and I said nothing, could we really afford £500?

Friday arrived and John was day off. They both tackled me again so I told them about this lorry.

Within the hour we had phoned and it was still there. We are very democratic here at Northcote!

The majority decision was go for it, if it is any good at all!

WHE'RE OFF

We took the little red Subaru truck and by 2pm we had arrived at Garstang, Lancashire. By gum it is hilly up there.

Right on the edge of the Moors almost on the way back into Yorkshire we found the mill.

The Lorry had been used for local deliveries but recently they had been encouraging farmers to collect for themselves more and more.

It was a curtainsider, 16-foot body but the cab was filthy. Inside that is.

The lorry ran well, big 6-cylinder engine and its maintenance record was up to date despite not being taxed for six months.

It was out of test too, but I suppose you can’t have everything for £500.

We did the deal, loaded the little red truck into the back of the “curtainsider” and drove home, (about 300 miles).

We hadn’t had time to tell my wife Ruth! She was the wage earner in our marriage!

She was expecting me to be at home and coward that I am I asked John to phone her and explained that we had been delayed.

EXPLANATIONS

He explained it like this.

“We’ve been held up.”

Ruth,”held up where?”

John, “In Lancashire.”

You can imagine Ruth’s tone, “Lancashire!!” she choked” “Where are you now?”

John, “Well, somewhere south of Ferrybridge on the A1.”

John was not one to let it all out at once.

Ruth, “What are doing on the A1?”

John, “Well Keith is driving a lorry!”

Ruth, “A Lorry? What on earth is he driving a lorry for?”

John, “Well, we’ve bought it.”

You can imagine the explosion at the other end.

“What do you want a lorry for?” or words to that effect followed.

John, kindly finished with something like, “Keith will explain when we get home,”

Before the phone at the other end was dropped loudly!

The explanation was relatively easy after I had the rest of the journey to think about the “problem”.

“Well you see,” it went; “ John and Terena………….. and finished with something about the Land rover wrecking the express train and us not wanting to do something similar!

All seems to have ended well so far, as in March, Novartis at Immingham approached us to do a display at their summer celebrations in July and sent us a cheque for £400 in advance!

In fact it has been a good thing as we have been to three displays using the lorry and trailer and even managed to dislocate my shoulder at one in the process!

Picture of THE lorry and trailer and horses is at Novartis later in the year!

Ends

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copyright KS

800 wds

THE BUS VERSUS AN AUGER

THE AUGER PROBLEM

from Ivy House Tales.......1974

My tyre collection business had been running for a few months alongside my work as a salesman for Firestone Tyres. Following a few raised eyebrows and a long talk to Henry, my then boss, I eventually left Firestone, but now our new business needed a boost.

It was not yet paying sufficiently to live on and I had invested in a second-hand “split screen” Volkswagen transporter pick up that was not yet in use all day every day.

Our neighbours in New Bolingbroke, John H. Rundle were local agricultural engineers, well respected in the County and suppliers to farmers for miles around.

AUGERS

From time to time they used my newly inspired small transport service to back up their one delivery lorry.

On this memorable occasion I was using faithful old Volkswagen to

transport an agricultural auger.

For those that may not be aware of the vagaries of agricultural equipment, an auger is like a huge “archimedian” screw in a long tube.

They are used to move huge piles of grain from one place to another.

In fact if you stick one end into a “grain mountain” on the floor and place the top end over a lorry body it will fill the lorry in double quick time with only minimum shovelling necessary to keep the open end of the auger at the bottom, filled with grain.

The screw down the centre of the auger is the main working bit and normally powered by an electric motor mounted on one end and driving the screw with a belt and pulleys.

The lengths of auger tubes varied enormously; the width too come to that!

When they are particularly long, agricultural augers have supporting steel rods running the length of the outside of the tube. These rods prevent the tube buckling and bending the auger inside. Once in position and suitably secured; the internal screw revolves rapidly and spews grain out at a tremendous speed and pressure.

This one was long!   It had those steel rods, two of them, one on each side.

A very large electric motor was mounted on one end. I had been engaged to deliver it quickly, as a farmer client had suddenly decided he had nothing to move his shed full of corn and vehicles were actually enroute to make the collection!

Rundle's own lorry was away for the whole day.

If I remember correctly the auger over hung the truck by about eight feet at the front and eight feet at the back. In which case it must have been about 30 feet long.

The front end was pointing upwards and the bottom end complete with its motor, towards the ground.

The back had a huge flag attached and I was not going very far, just to the other side of Boston, about 20 miles.

My auger nearly didn’t make it to its destination.

THE JOURNEY

For mile after mile I watched to the front meticulously but there was never anything in my way.

Arriving at the town (Boston) I watched the buildings in all the streets to make sure the auger did not go through any windows or catch any lamp standards.

Just by the Odeon Cinema, I arrived at some traffic lights; as I was slowing gradually, eyes in all directions at once, someone hooted their horn.

My eyes were diverted for just a second or two and in that instant a double decker bus had decided to stop directly in front of my truck!

Rapid stamping on my brakes resulted in my truck dipping forwards and the two steel support rods of the auger ending poked through the back of the double deck bus just below the rotary sign that tells you where it is going!

I did manage to stop before the rods went in too far; that is into the seats!

As the truck rocked back on its suspension, the two rods reappeared and left two “staring eyes” dead centre in the bus body just a short distance below the rotary signboard.

The driver appeared and looked somewhat bewildered.

“well I never did!” he exclaimed, ( his words were somewhat stronger and more colourful), “nothing like this has ever happened before.”

The auger did not seem to have sustained any damage and the bus driver was somewhat amused.

There were two beautifully symmetrical holes close to where his vehicle number was painted and nothing else to see.

The local bus depot was on route for both of us and we called in, complete with a bus loaded with amused passengers. Together we confront his supervisor.

Disbelief and baffled would possibly describe his reaction. I left my details and went on my way closely followed by the bus that decided to let me go ahead this time!

The fact that I did know the local bus supervisor personally was a coincidence. He and his good lady wife had been lodgers with my grandmother at 129 London Road (just opposite the local bus depot) for several months just after they had been married in the 1960's and Geoff was at that time a driver for the bus company.

I don’t think I ever heard anything else about this incident; perhaps it was too far fetched for even a bus company management to believe?

ends 892 wds

Ks copyright September 2009 revised 19.01.16

MADGE THE MOTORING LEGEND

From "It’s a Rum Life"  Book two  “Boston 1960 to 1970”

CHAPTER   6

Madge the Motoring Legend

As I have mentioned previously my Father’s eldest sister “Madge”, real name Margery, was not the most adept motorist.

Far back in my memory I recall tales of her taking driving lessons but due to her being unable to stay awake in an enclosed vehicle, the whole concept proved impractical. She decided her ideal mode of transport would have to involve fresh air. It was 1955 and she managed to buy one of the very first Lambretta model scooters imported into the UK.

The LD150 was stoutly built and needed to be as Madge weighed 18 stone or so on a good day. On a bad day she leapt up to over 20 stone and whenever her visits were announced household furniture had to be changed around. She loved the fireside and dropped into a chair with such gratitude that the poor appliance of choice suffered mortal damage.

Back with the scooter, her selling agent must have been gifted to offer her the only machine capable of standing her physical dimensions. Added to this, the model came with an electric self starter and simply enormous windshield.

Madge was a nurse and decided to leave her London home following the unfortunate demise of her husband and then a few years later the death of her daughter. She was engaged in a post at a children’s home quite close to Spalding and about 16 miles from where we were all living at Boston in the late 1950’s.

EPISODES

Father was called out on several occasions to assist when Madge had misjudged the corners of rural Lincolnshire and found herself in the bottom of a dyke. We travelled to North Lincolnshire one evening when she had taken a wrong turning and fallen off the scooter in the twisty steep streets of Caistor. That evening I ended driving the scooter back to Boston while Madge, somewhat bruised and bent took the passenger seat of the family car. I must add at this moment that Madge did travel in that Renault Dauphine just once; Mother had such trouble keeping the car going in a straight line that she was banned from this vehicle in the future. I once had the misfortune to have to travel behind Madge, me on the Lambretta passenger seat. Her bulk before me was off putting but extremely good at protecting me from wind and rain.

PENULTIMATE

The penultimate episode was when father was “commanded” to assist in a rather unpleasant motoring incident in Epping Forest. Madge had moved back to the London area having found the rural Lincolnshire roads with their wide dykes just too great a disadvantage. My father as far as I could work out was to appear in court as a character witness for my Aunt.  The case involved a scooter rider (my Aunt), who had blatantly driven across a table cloth being used by a family having a picnic in the forest.  Evidently the family was well away from the road, or so they thought; they had their food all prepared and were seated around on the ground when quite suddenly this motor scooter came across the same area that they were using and ran over their cloth and picnic. Whether it stopped or when, I am not sure of the facts; only that the Police had absolute proof that the scooter involved belonged to my Aunt because the tyre tracks matched her scooter exactly. How they did not lock her up and throw away the key I just do not know.

FINALLY

Finally came the incident with the Lord Mayor of Aylesbury, or rather his official car. Being a large stately vehicle it came off the best and Aunt Madge ended up as a patient in Stoke Manderville Hospital; the very same place where she was working at the time. I eventually begged the bent and battered scooter from Aunt Madge as I had in the meantime bought a scooter of the same marque and model for my own use. What possible better recommendation could one get, the LD150 had never let her down. Through thick and thin, forest, dykes and up and down the UK that remarkable machine had put up with everything my 20 stone Aunt could throw at it for eight years or more. The only thing that had stopped it in the end was being driven head on into a Daimler Limousine.

Madge did get on the road again but insisted on something smaller; once back at work she bought a Honda 90 which did stalwart service for a few more years. Perhaps it was its lack of sheer power that prevented Aunt Madge from appearing in any further traffic courts.  

Ends

Copyright RKS 1999

THE ACTUAL RELIANT ROBIN EPISODE

Excerpt from “It’s a Rum Life" Book Two....

THE ACTUAL RELIANT EPISODE   

Summer 1966

It was during my initial weeks learning the ropes at E.C. Stanwell’s garage in Main Ridge that I had my memorable first experience of a Reliant Robin.

I had recently left the ‘Boston Standard’ after a lengthy interview with prospective employers Firestone Tyres and was ‘gaining experience in the motor trade.

E.C. Stanwell’s were the old established Rootes Group (Hillman, Humber, Singer cars) Main Dealers in the Boston area and my task as junior salesman was to be general dogsbody to Herbert Stanwell who worked from the Main Ridge Garage.

This particular day, I was working in the showroom cleaning the floor or polishing a car and intermittently serving fuel if  “Mot” our regular, trusty, retired steam engine driver, forecourt attendant, had a busy spell.

The Reliant Robin was not a regular client and unsuspecting of what the future held in store, just pulled in to top up his tank.

“Mot” was quite busy at the pumps with a queue.  After several months practice, I had completed the simple task of putting a fuel nozzle into the car tank and dispensing the fuel hundreds of times without any problem; so I stepped out confidently to the aid of this unsuspecting client.

This time fate took a hand. How many things would you imagine could go wrong with this simple task?

THE PUMPS

Perhaps I should explain that petrol pumps at the Main Ridge Garage were rather more basic in the 1960’s than pumps are today.

They were a square box with simple clock dial of either side to register the fuel flow in gallons. One complete revolution of the “clock” was one gallon.

Located half way down one side was a simple access hole to locate your winding handle in case of electricity supply failure!

An illuminated globe sat on top to advertise the make of fuel and provide light on the site when open.

The dispensing nozzle with its hose was located on the side and held the spring loaded, pump actuating lever in place. It is worth mentioning that the hose was relatively short and did not extend and retract as they do today. It was fixed from the nozzle to a pipe coming out of the same side of the pump near the top where it swivelled round a little to assist delivery of fuel.

It is important to explain that on lifting the nozzle from its rest the pump lever was released, sprang into a raised position, and the pump actually started in motion.

Not squirting fuel yet, but the pump motor was working.

This was one of the catalysts that contributed to my catastrophe; that and the short fixed hose!

CATASTROPHY

I can still picture the situation clearly today. There is also something I have not mentioned; the pumps were mounted on a small concrete island. It was necessary to step up and step down to fetch and return the hose and nozzle.

The filler on the Reliant was on the side of the vehicle away from the pump; which meant that the hose had to be stretched to its fullest extent to reach.

First of all, somehow, stepping down from the pump, I managed to get the fuel hose wrapped around my legs. Then just as I approached the Reliant Robin from the back, it finally entangled my feet with the grip of an eel.

I lost my balance.

My hand reacted quite naturally by gripping onto whatever it could; in this instance the fuel nozzle dispensing lever.  A rapid flow of 95 octane two star petrol fountained from the end of the nozzle and jetted in a steady stream over the centre of the roof of the car.

The owner stepped back quickly, eyes staring wide, mouth agape and speechless.

My automatic reactions engaged rapidly to tell me something was not quite right here and my hand released the nozzle.

My first thoughts were, “how am I going to enter this on “Mot’s” petrol sales sheet?

The car owner and I stood there for just a moment side by side totally stunned.

HELP IS AT HAND

It seemed like ages as we stared at the petrol streaming down off the roof of the car over the windows and beginning to drip gently from the doors onto the ground.

My next thought was that it was a good thing we were all non smokers.

“Mot” was a brick. On realising what had happened, he sprang to my rescue with the forecourt watering can, used normally for topping up large radiators.

“ It’s a good job these motors are made of plastic,” he said in his friendly obliging voice, and with no hesitation, just as if this type of thing happened every day, he pouring the contents of the huge can all over the car and quite literally washing the petrol away.

He deftly completed the job, wiping away the last traces of fuel with a piece of waste cloth he always kept in his pocket, “for just such an eventuality!”

This is where my memory fails me.

Did the car owner remain among these “lunatics” long enough to actually fill his tank?  I think not!

I do remember the wasted fuel was put down to the workshop for cleaning something or other!

Ends

Copyright KS 2009

MINI VAN TO THE STATION!

This story comes from "It's a Rum Life" Book Two....;the period  “Boston  1953 to 1984”

MINI VAN TO THE STATION

  (Part of Lincolnshire Standard)

Looking back on these times now at the Lincolnshire Standard it is difficult to see how I managed to devote the time to my basic job when at any time I was going to be asked to imitate Stirling Moss or Mike Hawthorn in a mini van!

ALWAYS A RUSH

Another of the fairly frequent newspaper printing press breakdowns had occurred.

The first I knew of it was the works manager cornering my boss to request my services at short notice, “Just to run the Sleaford Standard down to the station for the next train. It shouldn’t take more than few minutes.”

He sounded very convincing. But he had not yet found me the van.

By the time we had, the train departure was imminent. It was a bit more than a mile to the station; up Narrow Bargate through the Market Place, round the five lamps roundabout, over the old town bridge, through the traffic lights at the top of Bridge Street and down West Street.

Everything went well for the first minute or two and then entering West Street everything changed. The road was dug up or so it seemed. In front of me was a mess of manhole covers, gulleys and pot holes.  The road was being resurfaced.

I had to choose and quickly, over the manholes that seemed to be everywhere and sticking well up above everything else, or slalom between them.

I was working up to the maximum permitted of 30mph and had virtually heard the train whistle as I had eventually departed the works.

Just half a mile to go and I daren’t slacken my speed.

I chose to go over the manholes, then, as the first one approached it seemed huge. I was driving a minivan; everything was so close to the road!

My confidence bled faster than lightening and my foot touched the brakes.

Perhaps a bit too strongly as the next thing was a tremendous grinding noise from between my feet. The van kept going and we were over.

All the others seemed much smaller after that.  I had gained the confidence not to brake any more until the van was well onto the station platform.

The newspapers caught the train, but the van was not running to well on the return journey.  A loud throaty noise came from under the bonnet and there was an oil slick following me down the road.

Reporting back to works manager with the good news that the papers had made it, I had also to impart my tale of woe.

“Take it straight round to the garage,” he said.

“Not a word to a soul, I will telephone them that you are coming.” He concluded.

Officially the van had gone in for a “service”. Plus new sump and complete exhaust system that could be see dragging along behind.

Ends  503 wds

Part of Lincolnshire Standard, copyright KS 2009

DANGEROUS TO HORSES January 2015

DANGEROUS TO HORSES.....................

As a life member of the British Percheron Horse Society I am copying an article from their latest newsletter.

January 2015

I feel all horse owners should be aware of this problem.

The article created by Society Treasurer and Newsletter editor, Mrs Linda Chapman and reprinted by kind permission of Society President Mrs Muriel Bond.

ANY READER WHO WOULD LIKE A LARGER VERSION.......JUST LET ME KNOW AND I WILL SEND YOU A PDF.
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