The life and times of Australia's "Nullarbor Kid". True stories from his past.

After bolting from my inevitable slide into becoming a drunk while delivering  soft drinks to clubs and pubs, starting at 7 am and receiving the first free beer of the day, the total beers for each day depending on how many deliveries were made. At eighteen years of age, I took a job at the largest Grocery Store chain in Sydney while waiting for an interstate truck driving job to come through. Glad to be still sober at 10 am. each day for a change.

It had its own central warehouse at Chippendale an inner city suburb where a fleet of trucks left early every morning going in all directions to supply the 40 or more grocery shops that covered Sydney from Bondi Beach to Parramatta and Cronulla to Hornsby.

In 1948/9 the fleet consisted of mostly ex army K 5 International 5 ton flat top trucks, the only equipment allowed was one tarpaulin and one rope to tie the back tier. There was one 1937 International called the dragon'inter,' it looked like it came from a Saturday afternoon movie serial "The Green Hornet". A couple of Austin Lodestars, they were real new. Only middle aged drivers that had 10 years or more service with the company  were allowed to drive these. We also rans or "johnny come latelys" were stuffed into the K5's. They were unbreakable.

It was motley crew that turned up for work each morning, the que stretching from the dock area up the lane to Cleveland Street.

Because I was the youngest, I was "the Kid".

There was always some "non starters" and so a line extended each morning outside the dock area waiting to be put on for the day as loaders or drivers.

Some I came to know by name but mostly the others were only referred to  by their nicknames.

Two of them who were regulars in the line were known as "Suitcase" and "Sometimes."

Anyone who worked through the day with "Suitcase" had to carry him as he was always lazy and missing when anything heavy had to be moved. So he had to be carried all day.

"Sometimes" as a worker was ok but you never knew when he would turn up for work. So sometimes he turned up for work and sometimes he didn't.

Then there was the "Grub." Poor fellow had a body odour problem, good worker but no one could stand being near him.

"Kennel Guts" had such a huge stomach; the steering wheel constantly wore grooves in his shirt front. Someone had said that he could fit a dog kennel in his stomach with a mother and six pups.

Anyway if you were put on, you were sure of two days work, the idea was you were given a run of say 6 or 7 of their branches all over Sydney to deliver the next day, the orders telephoned that day to be packed and loaded for an early start next morning.

For instance the last shop on the run had to be loaded first on the truck.

A helper would bring to your truck backed into the dock a wooden banana box with 6 bottles of vinegar, 10 packets. Of rice, maybe half a dozen jellies etc. Then another banana box with other assorted goods plus tins of biscuits and bags of flour any and everything you could think of that was sold in a grocery shop. Fifty or so boxes filled with a multitude of grocery lines, and everyone to be ticked off a list that the driver had to get signed from the manager of the shop.

Woe betides the driver if anything was broken or missing.

The run may start at North Sydney and various suburbs up to Hornsby and then back across to Parramatta at the same time picking up rejects or old stock to take back to the warehouse and not mixing it all up as you went along.

When the K5 left the warehouse of a morning at 7.30 am it was stacked at least as high as the roof of the cabin and even higher. The only help was tilting the outside heavy boxes up on the raised edge of the tray which tended to keep everything tilted into the centre and the one rope allowed per truck to tightly bind the last row from falling off the back.

Boxes of eggs were a real worry. We drivers could be blamed if too many were broken in one box even though an enterprising manager could do a slight of hand after we left his shop.

Apart from eggs nothing went in bulk in those days all 6 of this and 8 of that etc.

Boy was it time consuming. If everything went ok you would get back mid afternoon, unload and reload for to-morrow. Some days back at 3pm some days back at 6 or 7 pm depending on how far the run was that day and the traffic and the bloody minded managers. An average run was 70 to a 100 miles a day.

If you were lucky one or two trucks would be sent to the wharf to deliver a consignment for the Islands, an easy day, mostly the old hands were picked. But if we were fortunate to get a go and get off the wharf early then we would park behind a favourite little pub in Ultimo Street.

There were one or two cars from head office cruising the suburbs every day trying to catch us up to no good. They were called "out riders" but they didn't know we could reverse up this lane in Ultimo Street behind the pub and not be seen. It looked too narrow, but if we were careful and empty with nothing sticking over the sides of the truck, it could be done; very slowly balancing the outer duel wheel on the gutter to keep the tray level or it would score deep grooves in the pubs brick wall. We could get up to three trucks up the back unseen from the street. To be honest most grooves in the wall were made coming out of the lane after a couple of hours in the pub and running late to get back to the depot.

While I was there, management never tumbled, they suspected but could never catch us. After a while I was put on permanent.

Now if a permanent driver had been a real bad boy for some reason he was given the sugar run. Sounds sweet doesn't it? Far from it.

This consisted of 5 ton of bagged sugar and Icing sugar, delivering 2 to 5 bags to every branch going in a huge circle from the inner city to Hornsby then west to Parramatta down to Liverpool back to Bankstown then south all the way to Cronulla.

By the second delivery everything was sticky, your hands ,arms ,legs, the steering wheel, the gear lever, your face, neck, down your back everything . Imagine double parked and running in and out with 2 to 5 bags of sugar on your shoulders for 20 to 40 shops. Then hurrying to finish or you were on the next day and the next till you got it right or some one else had made a worse boo boo.

Tigers for work, and slaves to the boss. That's what we called ourselves the "Tigers and Slaves."

The K5 was a robust truck made during the war for tough conditions, mind you a driver had to be able to double declutch or you wouldn't get out of first gear.

Its only noticeable problem was turning to the left for some reason maybe the change from left hand to right hand steering caused the problem but it didn't like turning to the left. You turned the steering wheel and sort of halfway the steering wheel stopped and what ever curve you were on that was it. Sort of only half a turn and then you were drifting into the on coming traffic in a wide arc coming from your left. It was then you stopped and reversed a little hoping you were not backing into somebody and reefed the wheel a little more to the left and away you went on the correct  side of the road. To counteract this when approaching a left hand turn in the city or suburbs you veered out to the centre of the road perhaps over the tram lines and then you could take a gentle turn to the left at its full lock and just make it on the correct side of the road.

Remember no turn indicators in those days just a metal arm with a metal hand on the end attached to the driver's door, which half the time could not be seen from behind.

If you did happen to snuff it, no quick key start...  Hand brake on if needed clutch in, shift gear lever to neutral. Then left foot had to stretch out to the centre of the floor near the fire wall over near the front of the gear lever and press the small pedal which activated the starter, right foot catch it with the throttle, quickly bring the left foot back depress the clutch, engage low gear, out clutch and slight right foot on the loud pedal and away you were off again. It seemed to take ages when trams were clang clanging their bell at you and pedestrians took this opportunity to duck across in front of you so the traffic policeman on point duty directing traffic couldn't see them.

So with bells clanging, horn honking, arm waving out of the window at the pedestrians, and telling the tram driver what he could do with his bell, a miscued left hand turn could be completed.

If on the sugar run, the flustered driver was left to sort out his paperwork with one very sticky hand while continuing to drive to his next delivery knowing he is getting further behind as the day goes on.  His sticky fingers scattering dockets all over the seat and the floor. Unable to find the one he wants and with another sigh of exasperation having to loose more time pulling over and sorting the dockets in their proper order, the dockets in question now starting to stick to-gether and tear. All the time the driver is wondering what he had done so wrong to deserve this bloody awful job.

From; "My Way on the Highway", Copyright 2005 Ray Gilleland

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