Sleek neat manoeuvres netted Dave a lorryload of trophies

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Dave Humphries, 59, of Oakwood, honed impressive lorry driving skills during 41 years spent working for Derby Post Office. In that time he enjoyed 20 years of competitive driving – and won trophies galore, as he reveals.

THE biggest vehicle I drove as a 1960s postman based at Derby’s Midland Road sorting office was a one-and-a-half tonne van with “crash” gearbox, rubber front mudguards and a petrol engine under the long bonnet.

The vehicle, 16 service if memory serves me correctly, was an oddball alongside its more modern Austin and Morris counterparts.

The need for even larger vehicles was never more evident than when we moved to a temporary sorting office on Ascot Drive, as any postman who stacked a 20cwt or 30cwt van to the roof with parcel or letter bags destined for the railway station will tell you.

It wasn’t long before Derby received its first, car-licence-friendly, 7.5-tonne vehicles.

We had two box-bodied Karrier lorries and two canvas-bodied BMC (British Motor Corporation) trucks with “threepenny bit” cabs. I drove a Karrier, regularly conveying postmen into town – an official purpose it was never designed for and one the inspectors would jump on today.

The BMCs carried parcels, though, I believe, one day one was mysteriously found with a van in the back.

The other significant arrivals during the early 70s were two Commer tractive units with 24ft length semi-trailers. The GPO (General Post Office) name had just disappeared and, with it, many of the old ways. A new age was dawning where big trucks would carry much of the mail.

Along with many other Derby postman, I joined a long queue of aspiring lorry drivers waiting to be trained at a Royal Mail HGV school at Desborough, near Market Harborough. I passed the HGV test first time using a rather small Ford D series. None the less, I could now legally drive the biggest trucks on the road.

Driving a Post Office vehicle at that time wasn’t the dedicated experience it later came to be, at least in Derby, because, as a postman, you were part of a multi-skilled labour force that, perhaps, drove a van for two-hours, sorted mail for three, drove for another hour and maybe faced letters until you finished your duty.

Even when driving the articulated lorries, the routine was little different.

One trip to I&R Morley in Heanor did little for my confidence, however. So, when the opportunity to enter the Lorry Driver of the Year competition came around, I decided it would be wiser to enter in one of the Karriers. After that, I always entered in an articulated vehicle.

The Lorry Driver of the Year event was a national driving competition with heats held at Leicester cattle market. We were allowed to take a passenger along with us to map-read as there was always a mystery route to follow in the morning period with hidden-away marshalls watching and marking us for how well, or badly, the driver negotiated road junctions etc.

Additionally, there was a distance judgement test, a Highway Code paper and four manoeuvres where accuracy and low-speed control were crucial to winning.

My passenger was nearly always my great friend, Alan Barker. There was only one occasion in about 15 years that he directed me down the wrong road. His skill was a major contributory factor to my success in years to come.

Getting a good result in the competition was nigh on impossible in the late 70s as petrol tanker drivers were masters of the artic classes. Their slow, controlled driving round obstacles was a joy to behold.

One common manoeuvre involved reversing your vehicle up to a barrier and stopping as close to it as possible without touching. Anything less than one centimetre meant nil points, and some did it using mirrors only.

Robin Record often joined me driving the other artic and he came close to achieving a win in what were very challenging vehicles. The Commers were heavy to steer, the mirrors shook violently at times and the lack of a crawler gear meant a heavy clutch had to be slipped for inch-perfect judgement. Despite being a very good driver, Robin is probably best remembered by his colleagues for the time his wife phoned work asking for him to come home and put his train set away! Morris dancing was another of his hobbies, I recall.

Robin and I, along with another early entrant of the competition, Cliff Hammersly, had the luxury of having Sunday morning practice sessions on Normanton Barracks under the supervision of transport manager Alan Broughton and his right-hand man Bob Litchfield. Both men were held in high regard by all driving postmen and, as the popularity of entering the Lorry Driver of the Year competition increased, so did Alan and Bob’s problems.

In fact, so many Derby postmen entered the competition one year that, as I passed Deadman’s Lane in the leading vehicle, Royal Mail vans were still coming over the crest of Litchurch Lane bridge from the Midland Road sorting office.

Whether each driver was totally committed to the cause of increasing their driving skills is debatable, because not only did we all enjoy being paid double-time-and-a-half for the privilege of representing Royal Mail on our Sunday off, we received a free lunch and there was an all-day bar on site. And that was Alan and Bob’s problem – keeping us all out of it.

There was always lots of laughter and confusion at the end of the day’s proceedings when Alan and Bob did their best to sort out who was OK to drive, and who wasn’t. It always worked out well in the end, though.

By the early 80s I was starting to get in the top three in the regional heats fairly regularly and duly qualified for the grand finals held at different venues around Britain. One notable and very enjoyable venue for me was the Silverstone racing circuit. One test involved driving at a set maintained speed with the speedometer and rev-counter covered up. On the hallowed tarmac, I was sorely tempted to go faster and blow any chances of winning just for the experience. Trucks of the day were capable of doing well over 70 mph.

Doing well in the finals always proved elusive, though. I was of the opinion that I was a bit like George Best and Jimmy White – a flawed genius! Sometimes I would be brilliant, other times, forget it.

Many HGV-qualified drivers elected to drive the smaller 7.5 tonne vehicles and did very well in the finals, notably, Geoff Ridgeway and Dave Blood. Dave almost won the national title in 1990.

John Whittamore never shied away from driving the more difficult artics and was quite often within a whisker of qualifying for the finals. He was always great company to have around and made the day’s events a very humorous experience.

Two things happened during the 80s that did, undoubtedly, have an affect on the competition from a Royal Mail perspective. The first to hit us, especially the non-driving passengers, was the closure of the all-day bar. The second had a more profound affect. Royal Mail announced that competitors would no longer be paid for the day.

I had no option but to recruit my schoolboy son for map-reading duties as almost everyone in Royal Mail, understandably, lost interest in the event. In truth, I think I only continued to enter because I knew that I could, at the very least, get to the finals with a minimum third place, if not an outright win.

During 20 years of competition I won cups, tankards, plaques, a portable television, money, shopping vouchers and, in 1993, a beautifully engraved brass mantle-clock.

The clock was presented to me for becoming the overall champion – beating every class of vehicle – with additional trophies won for best Highway Code, best road route, best articulated vehicle driver and oldest winning driver. It was my finest ever performance – and all without a single person from Derby to witness it, not even a manager.

That proved to be my Lorry Driver of the Year swan-song, because anyone having a blameworthy accident in the previous year cannot enter.

Soon after that win, while delivering mail in St Peter’s Street, I reversed my little Royal Mail van out of Thorntree Lane straight into a post.

As I said, I was a flawed genius!