Produce Gypsies;
It was more than 40 years ago when I was involved with the PENINSULA tractor. Nile D. had this tractor on with PRIME PACKERS, out of Toronto, Ontario, Canada.
After running my ass off for these guys, I had packed it in, and was cruising for greener pastures. (Again)
I was wandering around and dropping off resumes at various places. I certainly did not expect anything to happen before the first of the year, this being between Christmas and New Years. Nile gave me a call and asked if I could run a trip with his brother Walter, before New Years. Not doing anything and having no ties with anyone, I agreed.
It was December 30th that we loaded a rush load of waxed turnips, (Rutabagas, to the Americans.) We loaded out of Blyth, Ontario, and then headed down into New York State. We had deliveries at five different stops between, and starting with Buffalo, NY. It was night time when we crossed the border, and headed to the customers on our list. We were to just unload and drop on their dock, and leave it for them in the morning.
We also had a half dozen bottles of premium, Canadian CROWN ROYAL whisky to include with each order. The bottle was to be buried in with the bags of turnips. Yea, right. We knew right away that the bottle would never reach the intended recipient. So to save some warehouse man from being led astray with the temptation of theft and possibly faced with incarceration, we saved him the trouble. It never got left behind. This included drops in Rochester, Syracuse, Utica, and Albany. All orders were just left on the open docks during the night. We still had 5 bottles of CROWN ROYAL lying in the bunk.
We motored on during the rest of the night and into the morning. We ended up fighting the morning rush hour into our destination, the docks in Hoboken, NJ.
We worked our way around till we found out where our pick up load would be. As it stood, there were 72 trucks ahead of us, waiting for the same ship, a load of melons from South America. When we arrived during the day, (New Years Eve) the ship had not even arrived yet. It was very disappointing. (Browned off would be a better description.)
We were parked in line and had nothing but time on our hands, and of course there just happened to be a liquor bar on the other side of the fence. We decided to patronize the place, just to grab a bite to eat. (HA)
It was getting on in the afternoon when word came that the ship would tie up around 4 o'clock. When it was spotted, all hell broke loose. All the truckers in the saloon took off for their trucks in the hopes of getting loaded and away before midnight, New Years Eve.
We were all feeling no pain at the time, when Walter got a brainstorm; we are not going to get loaded if we don't pull a fast one. We could be here for a couple days. Come-on lets go, hand me my travel bag. Doing so, he dumped everything out, and replaced it with 3 bottles of CROWN ROYAL whisky, along with his towel and some loose socks, just so the bottles would not rattle.
The ship was in the process of tying up to the pier. All the truckers were sitting in their trucks waiting in anticipation, hoping to get loaded New Years Eve, and not have to lie over the holiday.
Walter jumped out of the truck with his bag and said; let's go. We headed right across the pier while the ship was still being tied up. There was a group of customs & immigration officers running up the gangway to clear the ships entry to the country. Walter and I jumped into the end of the group and ran up into the ship with them. I guess that they were so engrossed at what they were doing, that they did not realize who we were. We broke away from the crowd and headed straight for the bridge. Once there, we approached the Captain, and before I knew what was happening, Walter pulled out a bottle of whisky, gave it to the captain and told him we need our load today. PLEASE, we are stuck.
The Captain was shocked at the incident, and as the customs inspectors entered, he started laughing like hell, and yelled OK, as we took off down below. The customs and immigration thought that we were part of the crew, and the crew thought that we were part of the boarding party. On the way out, we ran into the first officer, and quickly offered him a bottle as well as describing our dilemma. Everyone on board was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. All rushing about, trying to beat out the holiday weekend.
We took off down the gangway, and began scouting out the stevedores lead hand. After about a 1/2 hour search we connected. After another explanation, with a bottle of CROWN ROYAL whisky, we made our point, and would appreciate any assistance they could provide. We had at least another hour before actual unloading could take place, so rather than give it all away, we should share in the booty as well. We were the one's going through all this crap for management to get richer from our labors. #4 bottle was now dedicated to us, the slaves. Rather than go for mix to blend out the drink, we took swigs from the bottle direct rather than leave the truck and miss any chance of loading.
There was action on the pier now, and unloading was in full swing with lift trucks running around like crazy. There were 2 of them coming down the line, one on each side of the trucks. What is happening? They came along side of our truck and motioned to pullout and follow them. We were right on their butts. Pulling along side the ship they yelled get the doors open, NOW!
We opened up and they started to push pallet after pallet onto the truck and ended up with two machines pushing at the end. We were loaded in about 10 minutes, and told to grab the paper work and get out, NOW. Man did we move then. Another 15 minutes, and all our paperwork was supplied. We left, but made one small mistake, Walter just had to stop at the same bar for a drink and bowl of stew, before leaving.
We were just finishing our snack when a whole bunch of the stevedores came in after work. Many, many trucks were stuck till after New Years day.
One thing led to another and one by one, they approached us for a bottle of whisky, the same as the bosses received. The more they drank, the more they got buggy. One in particular was onto Walter, and was starting to get pretty snotty. Off the stool came Walter and caught the stevedore off guard, and then was going to hammer him, at the same time I figured that we, being the foreigners with no backup, were about to be crucified by the crowd. As things started to come to a head, the lead hand walked in and told them all to back off. DO NOT TOUCH. He probably saved us from a painful demise. He suggested that we cut our visit short and move on home before the holiday was a write off. Suggestion acknowledged; we took off, while about 50 trucks had to sit for another day.
We headed out for home and arrived New Years evening, in time for another party. Using the last bottle as our donation towards the festivities, I got plastered pretty good, and had a hangover for over a day. It was the last time I had ever seen Walter, and I was not looking forward to another meeting.
Off again, looking for another driving job.
Take care, drive safe, Diesel Gypsy.
PS; Sometimes, cheaters do prosper.
------------- William (Diesel Gypsy) Weatherstone RETURN TO STORY MENU