A MOST PECULIAR COFFEE BREAK

Avid readers of the Newsletter may recall my anecdotes related to the development of a transport vehicle.   For those who may have looked the other way here is a brief background.

Back in the swinging sixties a well known aluminium alloy supplier suggested that semi-trailers, as widely used in the United States, would soon be in demand for the newly emerging motorways. Why approach an Aircraft Company? They reasoned that aircraft design principles could eliminate the gas-guzzling weight of the traditional steel chassis. For those with a vivid imagination who may be conjuring up all kinds of images! - No! It wasn't anything like this:-

But  much more mundane:-

In the case of the our trailer, the sides, the forward end, floor and the roof were designed to take the loads usually carried by the chassis, and the heavy leaf-spring suspension was replaced by an air-bag system. The prototype vehicle was sent to the Motor Industries Research Association track at Nuneaton where the initial proving tests were carried out by Flight Test Department! The longer term endurance tests were left to the dubious devices of two willing conscripts - namely Wilf Fox from the Manufacturing Development Department (Production Organisation) and yours truly on behalf of their deadly rivals, the Development Engineers Department (Design Organisation).

This tedious preamble simply explains why two employees were commuting between Filton and Nuneaton at weekends in those far-off days. It also sets the scene for a particular Monday morning departure heading north.

Wilf was driving his A70 Hereford, a typical large saloon of the Austin era, and we were well into the journey when the mother of all rain storms erupted. This was before two-speed windscreen wipers were common, and the driver could only select "on" or "off”. (The Ford cars relied on the vacuum produced in the engine manifold, and wiper speed was either "slow" or "very slow"!).

Wilf was an ex-RAF, derring-do type whose response to danger was to press on regardless, but even he was forced to pull into a convenient lay-by as the wipers could not cope with the deluge. Visibility ended at the inside surface of the windscreen and as all-weather radar was not an optional extra, or as a kit obtainable from Halfords, we were forced to ride out the storm.

Eventually the rain eased and then stopped and there in a clearing in the woods surrounding the lay-by stood a large log cabin. Across the roof, and stretching along almost its entire length, was a sign in rustic timber letters at least a metre high. Someone had carefully selected each part from grown timber, just as the knees for the internal structure of wooden ships were selected to ensure that the grain followed the shape of the knee to give maximum strength.   The sign spelt out the welcoming invitation "COFFEE BAR"!

We both needed no second bidding and headed for the cabin, pausing only briefly to admire at close quarters the work of art that towered over the roof of the cabin. The sky was grey and the air was chill which explained the closed door. Wilf duly opened the door and we were greeted by a thick warm smog of cigarette smoke which, like the rain, reduced the visibility to danger level, even ignoring the other risks to health. Through the haze we could just make out the row of tables on both sides of a long gangway leading to the counter at the far end of the room. On each table lay heavy china plates. (The kind not seen in the average genteel tearoom.) Each plate was piled high with the notorious full English "heart-attack-on-a-plate" in various stages of demolition.

Behind each plate sat a menacing unkempt apparition. We had either stumbled onto the set of a Spaghetti Western or, more likely, a typical 60's "Transport Caff'. In those days the cabs of trucks were not the luxury hotel suites on wheels with built-in Jacuzzi, cooking galley and bunks that are now familiar sights on our roads. (Only kidding - they have showers not a Jacuzzi!) The most delicate of maidens could handle the modern gleaming monsters with their smooth gears and power-assisted steering. (The trucks, not the maidens!) Those were the days of draughty cabs when men were men and had to wrestle with reluctant gear-boxes and steering that was not power-assisted. They were called "Knights of the Road" but they would be the first to agree that they were more like scruffy knights than shiny knights.

The rumble of heated conversation had suddenly ceased as curious eyes followed our self-conscious walk-of-shame toward the counter, trying to ignore the hostile stares as we passed each table in what seemed like an interminable journey. I can only liken the sudden cessation of chatter to the sudden silence that might have greeted us if we had inadvertently entering the ladies changing room at a swimming pool.   I hasten to add that I have not had the pleasure of that particular experience.

Why were we the centre of attention? We must have appeared like aliens from another planet emerging from the smoke. In contrast to the working garments of their trade, their stubbled chins and grimy hands, we were freshly shaved, scrubbed pink, reeking of aftershave and dressed in the uniform of the office worker - smart grey suit, white shirt, collar and tie. We were intruders into their private world daring to enter their inner sanctum.

After what seemed like an age, we finally reached the counter comparatively unscathed apart from lungs full of tobacco smoke. The man behind the counter was obviously on one of his dress-down days that are now commonplace in offices, or maybe this was the norm. He wiped his hands expectantly on the soiled tea towel that served as an apron but which had failed to protect his equally soiled garments. Wilf was his usual avuncular self and smiled a cheery greeting despite the scowl on the face of mine host.

"Two white coffees please.

The reply was swift, devastating, and completely unexpected, "WE DON'T DO COFFEE!"

Three obvious questions linger like the swirls of the blue tobacco smoke. Firstly, why hadn't we seen any trucks? That one is easily answered. We had parked in a small lay-by and did not see the large truck park behind the trees.

Why had someone laboured long and lovingly to make that huge sign and then perversely decided to dispense tea only? One thing is certain, it was not done especially to embarrass two innocent travellers or to create this anecdote!   Sadly this question remains unanswered.

What happened next? If you have tried to recall all the details of a dream, you will understand why. Although some details are indelibly etched in my brain, the ending to my anecdote remains tantalisingly beyond recall.

John Payne

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