Back in 1956, I was scouting out a job. I had this thing about getting to see Florida. Now that winter is here, it would be a good time to get a job that would send me there, and pay me for my travels.

A number of years earlier, when I was in grade 8, in public school, I had a summer job with Mc Cord Cement & Construction Co. During that time, they were in the process of building the Ontario Food Terminal in Toronto, Ontario. I seemed to have a little political drag at the time, knowing, and attending school with the daughter of Mc Cord's chief engineer, who gave me a chance to work on the terminal construction site. I spent the summer there and when the time came, I returned to school.

 This terminal when completed turned into a paradise for trucks, traveling to and from the State of Florida, as well as all the major distribution terminals across Canada, And the United States. Knowing the building, and realizing the potential for work there, I decided to head down that way, and scout the place out.

I came around the corner of the main building and found myself in front of a great looking B-Model Mack conventional day cab. (No sleeper) It was all red, with the top of the hood black, as well as the fenders. Across the front bumper, in large staggered letters, were painted, "I'M ALL SHOOK UP". The tire man was there with the driver, and they were installing a complete set of new tires, all around.

I got talking to the driver, and found out that he was the son of the owner. They had 3 trucks. Two of the trucks were dedicated to running south, to the Eastern seaboard, and on to Florida, with deliveries in all states between. The third truck was dedicated to running to the Lakehead. (Fort William & Port Arthur, the twin cities.) Today, known as Thunder Bay, Ontario.

I asked, what are the chances of them needing a driver? He responded with, well we have a salesman working and delivering the north run. I think the old man would like him to do sales only. No trucking. Let's go inside and check with him.

He offered me expenses to go along with Sam on a trial run up north, to see if I could handle the truck OK. I agreed, and Sam said we leave about 9pm tonight for Timmins, Ontario, where their "Northern Produce" branch was located.

As usual the produce business was never on schedule, or on time. We were even lucky to get away at midnight. Sam took the truck out of Toronto and headed north on highway # 11, getting as far as Barrie Ontario, about 60 miles north of town. He said it's your turn to drive. We switched and I don't think I even hit high gear and Sam was out like a light, snoring even louder than the old Mack.

(I seem to end up with the first driver always going to sleep, while being left to do all the driving.)

It was all the old road then, and every one of the 900 miles had to be fought for. The farther we went north, the colder the temperature became. As I made my way through Cobalt the temperature had dropped to 38 below zero F. My legs were feeling the cold now, and I was not getting any heat from the little heater on the firewall on the passenger side. Sam had his feet on it and a small blanket covered the rest of it. I got into New Liskeard, and the little truck stop was the only place open.  It's time to wake up Sam and grab some breakfast.

Once in the restaurant, and awake, Sam said that it has been a long time since he could sleep while someone else was driving. On top of that, if you are capable of handling the North Country in the dead of winter, you have got yourself a job. So is the truck now dedicated to me? Yes sir, it is. I'll be back in a sec. I went out and tore down the Mexican hat tassels that were hanging from across the top, inside of the windshield. (I am over 6 feet tall, and they drove me nuts, dangling in front of my eyes.) I took them in to Sam and told him to take them with him, and store them in the appropriate place. He just laughed, and said that they wouldn't fit, and dropped them in the garbage can.

We arrived in Timmins in the morning, and unloaded. They then reloaded some stock, and said to go on to the Lakehead and deliver. I was on my own now, and was off again, but not before getting an old tarp and covering up 3/4 of the radiator first, and bringing it down and under the front axle, to be a windbreak for the oil pan. To be doubly sure, I got some industrial alcohol and dumped it in the fuel tanks, to keep from freezing up on me. Sam called me a fusspot. I said that at least I am a live fusspot, then left.

From Timmins, the road to the Lakehead was just a horrendous trail. I made it all the way to Jellico, and could go no farther. All I had in the cab with me was an old furniture pad. I wrapped myself in it and lay down on the seat with my legs cramped under me. I woke up a couple hours later, almost frozen. The outside temperature was well below the -40 degrees F. mark. The little heater was (it seemed), spitting out ice cubes. The windows were covered in a thick layer of frost on the inside. The engine temperature gauge did not even move from off the bottom. The engine was putting out enough fog through the stack pipe, that it almost covered the truck. Half dozen others were there also, and created our own little fog bank with not even a breath of wind to disturb it. The little coffee shop was open, and I went in. The waitress was wearing a parka and served coffee that would just about freeze in a few minutes. The old wood stove was just dancing on the floor trying to get the place warmed up.

After an hour of trying to get thawed out, I went out and tried to get going. The engine was still stone cold, and when I forced the transmission into gear, and let the clutch out, it almost stalled. After trying that for 4 or 5 times, I gave up, and went back in for another cold coffee. The rear end gears were froze up solid. One other driver was a lot more vicious at trying than I, and twisted the drive shaft right out of his truck.

The trucks in those days were not equipped with thermostatic fan clutches, as they are today. The fan ran constant and almost froze everything behind it, when the truck was stationary. You had to cover up the front and drive under load to get any heat.

After another hour trying to warm up, a couple of us decided to get a little more drastic. We could not stay there all winter. We scrounged a couple of old baking tins from the restaurant, along with some old rags. While I was siphoning some diesel out of my fuel tank, Bob, the other driver, had a shovel, and began piling snow up around the rear wheels on the tractors. Once he had a wall around them to hold in the heat, we soaked the rags in fuel, put them on the baking tins, and then slid them under the rear axels. We struck a match to the rags and stood back and watched, as the flames did their job. You would not attempt to do that today, with all the plastic air lines, around the axel housing. They would melt in a flash. I know, I found out the hard way, quite a few years ago.

About 20 minutes is all it took and we were on our way. I started to think, I came to this produce company looking to get a run to the southern climate and warm beaches of Florida. Here I am half way to the North Pole, and almost freezing to death.

 The last I heard of the driver with the drive shaft out, was, that he was going to have to wait a couple of days for them to come out with the parts and do the repairs.

I finally made it into the Lakehead, and made my delivery. I got a room and had to lie over till the next day and wait for instructions.

They called and said to go back to Kapuskasing and pick up a load of scrap cast iron and copper, and bring it down to Toronto. I said that I could not get back to Toronto before Saturday night shut down.(Ontario's Blue Law, no trucks could run on Sunday.) They told me that produce trucks were exempt from the law, when hauling perishables. I asked what was so perishable about scrap metal. I was told to open the produce vent doors on the nose, and back doors of the trailer, put a cheap lock on the rear doors, then throw away the key and drive like hell for home on Sunday. You should not be bothered by the cops.

Well I did just that and could not help but keep looking over my shoulder for the cops to pounce on me. I passed 3, on the way home, they looked and must have figured that it was perishable, and did not bother me. On Monday morning, we got the trailer unloaded at a local scrap yard. Something in the load was thawing out and started to stench up the trailer. The wooden floors and side walls seemed to soak up the scent. I went over to the garage to get it washed out, so as to reload for another trip. The smell was still hanging on, even after the washout. What now? I was told not to worry, just go over to the restaurant across the street and see if they had any fresh used, wet coffee grounds that we could have. I ended up with a pail full and was directed to spread them out across the floor like Dustbane, and then close up the doors for a few hours. Just before loading, you sweep it out, and the only smell left was that of a previous load of coffee. It can fool almost anyone.

You just never stop learning something new every day.

END PART ONE.

    ---------------- William (Diesel Gypsy) Weatherstone.                   RETURN TO STORY MENU