Scrap CH THREE part 40

Scrap CH THREE part 40
By Friday the two pals have worn themselves to a frazzle getting in as many loads as they could manage but they know that it will pay off handsomely once the money starts rolling in. They have had to drive all the way to Newhaven docks for their loads today and are both on their way to Gateshead with Robbie tucked up in the bunk behind his father and his brother Stuart trying his best to stay awake in the passenger seat. ‘If you need to stretch out you can get in Frank’s bunk,’ says Scotty, but his son insists he is not tired and tries to think of something to talk about to keep himself awake.
‘Back to school on Monday,’ Scotty begins, helpfully, ‘are you looking forward to seeing your mates again?’ Stuart gives him a wry look and says the only one of the boys eager to get back is Robbie because he is in love with Precious Mbele and has lived all summer for the weekly football games and the occasional outings to the beach. His dad laughs, remembering his first love. ‘What about you, haven’t you got your eye on anyone yet?’ Stuart says he is much too young to be thinking of such things and anyway girls are cissy.
Stuart has never been renowned for his conversational skills so his dad is not surprised when he falls silent. He looks across the cab every now and then to check the boy has not nodded off but he seems quite content to look out the windows and listen to the radio. Any company is better than no company but it would be nice to have someone to chat with on the long journey.
Eventually they reach their destination and get out for a stretch. Robbie climbs down from the bunk, pulls his shoes on and joins them in the task of opening the curtains on the trailer. ‘Can I drive the forklift?’ He asks, wanting to show off to his older brother. ‘You’re not allowed to drive at your age,’ scoffs Stuart, who has been hoping to have a go himself. ‘Well don’t tell your mother,’ Scotty warns, ‘and you can both have a turn.’ He oversees the operation by squashing himself on the seat next to his son and hopes nobody else sees what they are doing. Once Stuart has unloaded one side of the trailer Robbie is allowed to change places and clear the other side. ‘Careful, don’t try and go too fast or you’ll turn us over,’ yelps Scotty as the pallet load on the forks rocks alarmingly. Robbie’s heart has almost jumped out of his chest and he gives up on showing off, opting instead for doing as he is told for a change.
Fat Frank has finished unloading his trailer and comes over for a natter. ‘Any tea going?’ He asks the porter, who has only just woken up. ‘I’ll get the kettle on,’ says the old man. The five of them stand around to drink the tea, passing the time of day with comments on nothing in particular then the usual couple of quid exchanges hands in return for some big boxes of fresh fruit and vegetables, which are quickly spirited away inside the cabs. Frank is rather miffed that no offer of food was forthcoming but with three mouths to feed he supposes that Dawn has made only enough for her own lads. Good job he brought some pork pies and a packet of hobnobs with him.
He scribbles a few entries in his driver’s log book and follows his pal back to the main road. It won’t be long before the tachograph becomes a fixture in every cab, which means he will have to find a way of working round that obstacle. It’s all very well saying you can only drive a certain number of hours but how are you supposed to make a living if you can’t get back for another load every day? More and more red tape from the Government which means everything will get dearer and nobody wants to pay for it. He can’t do anything about it at the moment though so he puts the thoughts to one side, turns the volume up on the radio and sings along to the Elvis number being played. It’s a lonely life on the road but at least he has a decent radio for company.
The sun has risen over low cloud and most drivers have turned off their lights but one lorry is coming towards Frank with its headlights flashing and the driver holding his log book up. Frank acknowledges the warning and checks that he has the second log book to show if he gets a pull. Sure enough, two miles down the road he is invited into a lay-by where the Ministry of Transport officials have set up for the day. ‘Good morning sir, I just need to ask you a few questions,’ says the man with the clip board, ‘do you have your log book handy?’ Frank hands the book through the open window and waits as it is scrutinised. ‘So you started work at 0500 hours, is that right?’ Frank says it is right and the book is handed back to him. ‘I just need to check the vehicle,’ continues the official, ‘would you mind putting the lights on and your foot on the brake?’ Frank does as he is asked, turning the indicators on when prompted by a second man who has been reading from a list. The two men walk up and down inspecting the rig then ask to look inside the trailer. Frank pulls the stop button and gets out showing them that the trailer is empty and they seem satisfied. They thank him for his co-operation and wave him on his way. Thank goodness he isn’t driving one of Ken Chapman’s old bangers or they would slap a notice on it. He saw Scotty go sailing by with a big grin on his face and knows he will not get chance to race him back to the yard now.