(Part Two)
PART TWO ---
It was just a couple weeks into this job, that I had another incident.
I had gone over to St Lawrence cement at Clarkson, and loaded out for Windsor, Ontario. It was the old 2 lane road, to Windsor. The Freeways had not been built yet. I had loaded the Fruehauf dry cement tank. It was a tri-axle trailer, whose front axle did not have brakes on it. (Standard for the day)
At the time I was driving the single axel Diamond -" T" tractor, known as the JT. The engine was a JT model Cummins; it was rated at about 165 hp. (There were no exhaust brakes, Jakes, or transmission retarders of any kind, as well as any Maxi-brake. None were available at this time in history.) The emergency brake consisted of a mechanical handle on the floor of the tractor. No dynamite valve. The air supply to the trailer was 2 straight handled valves, with a 1/4 turn. (Open and close.) They were mounted on the outside, at the rear of the cab. (This description is for the benefit of the new young breed of drivers, not familiar with old style equipment.)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I was pretty tired at the time, when I loaded. Again, as usual in this business, I was informed of the desperate condition of the product supply at the customer. I was expected to be there before the world collapsed, (AGAIN) and save them from the disaster of running out of product, and to possibly have to shut down the production.
There was quite a line up at the cement plant. I had to wait over an hour and a half, before I could get loaded. I finally scaled out, and was on my way. I was really getting tired by this time, after being up all night. It was about a 6 hour, non stop run to Windsor. That is exactly what I did. I ran nonstop, again, and when I arrived, they advised me that I would have to wait till morning to unload. It was not that desperate. I was so tired that I backed into the unloading bin, lay down on the bucket seats and told them to wake me in the morning when they were ready. I was GONE, out like a light.
I often wondered if there was at least, one dispatcher on this planet that could tell it like it really is. You know, without the BULLSH**.
They woke me up about 06:00 am; I fired up the little Wisconsin Engine, and unloaded. I finished up, then stopped in at the local restaurant for breakfast. I was just leaving town when I saw Moose, (I never did know his real name) coming in with another load. We stopped together for a chat, and he gave me a message to stop in Zorro Township at Canada Cement, on the way home, for a load back to Hamilton, Ontario.
In the early 50's there were no CB's or cell phones to communicate with. You had to stop and exchange info in person.
I made it to Canada Cement OK, and was loaded and on my way in about 2 hours. I was heading East on # 5 highway, which brings me out at Clappison Corners, at the junction of highway # 6. The Corners are located at the top of what is locally known as the Hamilton Mountain. Highway # 6 South is a straight drop down the hill, where you go to the lowest gear possible, to safely descend. (Hopefully) I am not sure at this date, but I think it must be at least 1 1/2 mile down. I don't remember the grade percentage, but it was not healthy at the time.
I started down the hill in the lower end of the gears, as usual. The road went in a straight line down hill, then leveled out for about a hundred yards, did a slow "S" turn then dropped dramatically again, the grade steepened even worse. At the bottom was a stop sign. The main highway # 2 had the right of way and crossed the bottom of the hill. The road officially ended there, and you would normally turn left or right. Across the intersection was a narrow laneway that led down past a small, 1 pump gas station then to a bridge made of old timbers, and posted, with a 10 ton limit. Underneath, it was about 25 feet down to the railroad tracks, then dropping again down into a ravine.
About half way down the hill, the WIG-WAG over the windshield, started to waver. When the air pressure drops to 60 lbs. the WIG-WAG drops in front of your eyes. It is telling you that you are now on your own, and getting stopped, is your problem now. I have just been notified that I have a serious problem. My air supply is rapidly diminishing. My stomach has just developed the second biggest knot in my life. My knuckles are turning to that familiar white colour. My shorts, --- I didn't have time to check.
I was trying to conserve air for the bottom of the hill at the intersection. I held it down, as the brakes started to flame. If I had let off, I would have lost more air. As it happened, the compressor gave up the ghost, and died on me, leaving me to my fate.
I was at the leveled off section and started to slow down. I thought that I had it made now. No way, the truck coasted over the last drop and started to pick up speed again. The traffic at the bottom of the hill kept going across in front of me. I was down to about 20 lbs. of air, and all I could do now was to blow the air horn and try to warn those passing through the intersection.
The cross traffic did not pay attention to my warning. Just before entering the intersection, one car understood my predicament, and slid to a stop, jumped out of his car and flagged the other direction to stop. I sailed through the intersection just as the horn ran out of air, and quit.
I crossed the intersection, (to fast to turn) then headed down the small lane, without an ounce of air brake. I grabbed the hand brake, and pulled it back with both hands. That was all I had left. A young couple had just pulled away from the gas pump, and was heading towards the intersection, when I went sailing by. It was so close that I ticked his rear bumper as he pulled out in front of me. His girlfriend saw the truck coming at them, and thought she would die. She let out a scream and passed out. (Just as well.)
I was slowly coming to a stop when this stupid 10 ton bridge in front of me, extended my fear. That's all I need now, an old and decrepit 10 ton bridge, and me weighing in at close to 40 ton. The tractor rolled up and over the front of the bridge. Just as I was preparing myself for the next world, the tri-axles on the trailer caught on the rise, stopped and I rolled back off the bridge. It was then, that I had to check my pants for the after-effect.
When all the dust, and my nerves had settled down, I walked back to the garage to use the phone, and call in. The kid was consoling his girlfriend. I think inadvertently, I did him some sort of favour. She was really buttering up to him for saving her life. I apologized to him for the scare, but he passed it off saying, that in reality, I actually did him a favour. (So much, for young love.)
I called in, and was told to bring it in and they would look after it. Hell, as stupid as I was, I crawled back at about 2 miles per hour. Fortunately, I made it back to the terminal OK without killing someone.
After surviving this incident, another new lesson is learned.
END PART TWO, ---
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