Bourg-en-Bresse, France.
These photos are at a Routiers truckstop somewhere on the D1079 near Bourg. We were at Soilmec in Ravenna, loading with Paul Ashwell who had a conventional load, while we would have had to wait days for our permits. We remember waving goodbye to Paul, who said sorry, I would wait with you, but I best go.
However, after dark, we had managed to slip out of Italy overnight without telling anyone, overtaking Paul Ashwell who had stopped at Novara with his conventional load, but were pulled off the road by a couple of good-natured Gendarmes and arrete’d for the weekend as they thought us too long to mix with the bank holiday traffic. We painted our headlights yellow to look like a French truck, and slipped out again when darkness fell, arriving at the channel port at the same time as Paul, who I think was surprised to see us there.
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We employed our fitters young, as they cost less and did not eat as much as the larger versions. A bottle of milk every now and then, and a regular change of nappy was all they ever asked for, although the little fitter in this photo, was already drinking ginger beer from his bottle at that age.
Paul Ashwell later became rather famous in his own right, as he was the guy that made all the newspapers and international television news some time later, when he was arrested and put in prison for a few weeks for having pipeline equipment that the Greeks somehow imagined was part of The Iraqi Supergun. It was. His Supergun rather trumped Ute’s little toys.
It is just being wise after the event to suggest in retrospect that he should have transited down via Bulgaria instead, or, shipped trailer unaccompanied from Brindisi, as certain other drivers whose names conveniently slip my mind at the moment did. And far be it from me to suggest that his innocence was enhanced because he thought that the load was perfectly legitimate as the trade was allegedly supported, at that time, by the British Government who, allegedly, had a change of heart on the issue when the Americans/Canadians decided that their guy Major Bull who designed it was being naughty, and we allegedly did not really want Saddam Hussain to win the Iraq – Iran war, as we wanted them both to lose it. However, I digress yet again. Maybe more about this in my next book, if I survive long enough to write it, as poor Major Bull tragically got accidentally shot twice in the head and three times in the back while entering his apartment in Belgium. Blame for his murder has been apportioned to Mossad, MI6, CIA and even The South Africans and Iraqis themselves. But not Iran, I note. Maybe we will never know. My money would be on the first option, but I am not that big a gambler. Author’s photos.