One of the (few) pleasures of being a truck driver is that you can take a break whenever and wherever you choose. At least, you can in a company that has an enlightened boss who hasn’t had the lorries fitted with GPS spy devices, and doesn’t question you too closely about how long it takes to do a particular job. Fortunately I work for one such progressive employer who isn’t overly concerned about anything provided you can produce fuel receipts at regular intervals and get the job done. Eventually.
Thus it was that I found myself on the semi-regular plod over to Rochdale this fine Bank Holiday Friday. With only five cars to collect it was a job for my rigid Scania rather than the usual artic, which pleased me enormously. On my trips over the M62 my curiosity has been piqued by a long abandoned factory of some description that is clearly visible from the crest of the hill as the motorway bypasses Halifax. Although almost a mile distant, the building sits atop a hill, and a large brick chimney makes a perfect landmark. I’ve been scouting for an abandoned industrial building for photography purposes, and this looked ideal. But a closer inspection was required, particularly for the all important question of access.
As I made remarkable time on my way to Rochdale I decided to pop off the motorway and take a closer look. This isn’t a good idea in an artic as you never know what you’re going to meet, or even if you can turn round when you get there. With a rigid, this isn’t a problem. Indeed, with the majority of my deliveries being to the fleshpots of Leicester at addresses you’d have difficulty getting a pedal bike into, I figured I could get in and out without too much difficulty.
I duly arrived at the site without problems, and discovered it was a long abandoned factory or mill of some description. I was impressed to find that it had HGV access, so drove straight in without any problems. Amazingly it hasn’t been fenced off and doesn’t have lots of patronising signs about derelict buildings being dangerous places – you don’t say. There was even room to turn round and park up, which is an idea that I wish would catch on with our company sites. I was therefore able to go off and take some snaps (I always carry a camera with me for just such an occasion). The scene that greets you is total devastation. Graffiti is everywhere, walls and ceilings have fallen in and out; piles of rubbish and rubble lie strewn around the yard and the corrugated iron that hasn’t already disintegrated flaps around in the wind and looks as though it will collapse at any moment. It’s a bit like checking into a bed and breakfast in Byker. The perfect place for a lorry driver’s lunch.
Despite this scene of annihilation, the view forwards couldn’t be more different. The rolling moors of Saddleworth stretch westwards, whilst a beautifully restored old mill stands guard over the valley. Quite a contrast of styles in such a small area.
With photos taken there was time for a cuppa before retracing my steps and heading off to Rochdale for my five cars, some of which even started on the key. Then the long, slow trundle back to base in the Charge of the People Carrier Brigade (Bank Holiday Friday). These occasions always bring out the lunatics who only ever usually shuttle between home – school – supermarket – home run, so proper roads totally throw them. One extremely brave – but rather gormless – Volvo driver stopped in the outside lane of the A1 near Wentbridge to change a wheel and brought the road to a standstill as far back as Doncaster. Ironically enough, just as this traffic jam ended another was beginning because a second Volvo – this time an estate – had also parked up in the outside lane and was making a phonecall as I passed him. Probably asking the au pair if she’d switched the iron off. This jam wasn’t quite as bad, but no time to clock it as I entered a southbound jam of my own. This one was down to the outright winner of ‘Dick of The Day’ contest. At Five Lanes End junction a woman (I’m saying nothing) had inexplicably driven her new pale green Toyota Avensis down the exit sliproad. Daft, but not entirely unexpected. What was more questionable was what she did next. A 44 ton Volvo FH artic was proceeding up the narrow sliproad while Madame was coming down. Probably on her phone, but the jury’s still out on that one. Did she stop and think, ‘Hang on, this doesn’t look entirely tickety-boo to me. Maybe I’ll stop and assess the situation.’ Er, no. She tries to squeeze past and takes out the side of her car against the truck’s underframe. As I said, outright winner of Dick of The Day Award. Unless, of course, you know better …
I can't decide if this a road accident, or Saturday morning at Grantham Asda.
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