Scrap 52

SCRAP 52
The pals do get soaked loading their trailers and once they have finished they take refuge in the canteen where they order coffee and biscuits. The instant coffee is melted in the mugs with boiling water and topped up with boiling frothed milk, just as they like it. They peel off their boiler suits before taking their seats at a table by the window, dropping the soggy garments on the tiled floor. The sun is breaking through as the last drops of rain hit the window. ‘Wouldn’t you know it, we get soaked to the skin then the sun comes out,’ moans Scotty. ‘Don’t worry, we can dry our boiler suits on the way to the market,’ says Frank. Scotty frowns, ‘how will we manage that? I don’t even have a heater in my old boneshaker.’ Frank taps his nose, ‘leave it to me,’ he says.

Later in the day the pals meet up in the layby on the Sheppey Way. Frank has tied the sleeves of their boiler suits to the tops of their loads, where the afternoon sunshine has already part dried them. ‘Shall we stop at the M2 services for a snack on the way?’ Asks Frank. ‘Good idea,’ agrees Scotty, ‘maybe these things will be dry by then.’ They set off on their journey, Scotty in front and Frank close behind singing along to his 8 track player which is struggling to make itself heard above the growl of the engine. Someone flashes their headlights and Scotty flashes back, waves and wonders who it is. Usually drivers only flash their lights for a reason so he keeps a close look out for police vehicles and prepares to slow down if he sees one.
More motorists flash their lights and gesticulate as the pals progress along the road. Scotty looks in his mirrors, straining to see if there is a rope loose but can see nothing wrong. Frank passes him on the dual carriageway and takes over the lead. He too is surprised to see so many motorists flashing their lights at him and he too can see nothing amiss in his mirrors. They reach the motorway services and park up next to each other.
‘What was everyone flashing about?’ asks Scotty, ‘I didn’t see any Law about, no breakdowns or anything.’ Frank is checking his vehicle, mystified. ‘No idea,’ he says, shaking his head, ‘there’s nothing wrong with either of the loads. Must be something on the road we missed.’
They walk towards the café, still none the wiser. Suddenly a police car screeches past them and stops abruptly. Two officers leap out and run towards the drivers, shouting for them to stop. ‘What’s the matter?’ asks Frank, ‘we haven’t done anything wrong.’
The officers catch their breath and the driver speaks up. ‘We’ve had reports of two men clinging to the tops of loaded lorries. We need to take a look at your trailers.’
The drivers shrug at each other and walk back to the trucks. The police officers struggle and strain to climb up and take a look. ‘Is this your idea of a joke?’ shouts the one on Frank’s trailer. Frank scrambles up beside him, still none the wiser. His boiler suit is still tightly tied to the load but it has been billowing out in the breeze and from a distance he guesses it could be mistaken for a man. He unties it and they climb down. The officers accept the explanation but are not happy that their time has been wasted or that they have been made to look foolish. They had been following the trucks for miles, thinking they would get an arrest, only to find Frank and Scotty had been drying their laundry in an unconventional way.