Heritage Commercials Magazine - capturing the spirit of vintage days

Trunk call

Every cloud – as the expression goes – and at first I thought the news a mite sour. “Sorry Bobby,” said George Scott, “we haven’t got the paperwork through from the DVLA so we cannot test the F86 – you’ll have to take something else.” As we related in HC Feb '10, George Scott (and George Johnson) are custodians of the expanding collection of head-turning motors Andrew Malcolm has gathered together to form the Donald Malcolm Heritage Centre at Linwood.

For me, the 2010 road run season was due to start on Friday 18 June when Jim Doig hosts a weekend of events – starting with the Carnforth Changeover. The two Georges had promised me the first ever drive of the freshly restored, ex Millican Volvo six-wheeler rigid. But in the end, I was to travel 420 miles of sheer enjoyment at the wheel of the Albion Chieftain HJD 936.

But first, a lesson in sheeting and roping from Alan Barlow and Jamie Marshall who share something like 45 years service with the Malcolm Group. More used to handling curtainsider loads of glass in and out of the company’s Anne Street warehouse, the pair demonstrates it’s an art you never forget. The dynamic duo comes to my rescue when I ask for a mock load on the back of the Chieftain. And even though the supplied sheet is awkwardly too long, they wrap the 16 pallets to create just the right effect. “Fold it from front towards back,” says Alan as he dolly knots things tight, “and wrap the corners in such a fashion the wind cannot get into it.” Thanks guys.

Flour power

Standing in the Linwood sunshine, the Albion certainly looks the part. Like the rest of his collection, Andrew Malcolm bought this vehicle specifically as a memory of the vehicles his father used to run. In the 50s, Donald Malcolm operated FHS 498, which was actually an example of the heavier Clydesdale model.

Coming from the same era, HJD 936 was originally a small part of the huge own-account fleet of Joseph Rank when it was apparently delivered through the Albion dealer in Willesden, London, on 16 June 1955. Albion historian – and passionate transport enthusiast – Jim Wilkinson also recalls Ranks having a brace of similar-looking Chieftain four-wheelers based at the (now famous) Baltic Mill on Tyneside. “Although the Chieftain was only rated to carry 6.5 tons payload,” says Jim, “Rank regularly put eight tons of flour on their back for the testing run across the North Yorkshire Moors to Scarborough. They were expected to work hard for their keep.”

Rank could have bought stronger Albion Clydesdales but the Chieftain’s main attraction was if its unladen weight could shimmy under three tons, then they were allowed to travel at 30mph – a big difference to the 20mph limit of their heavier counterparts. So alloy cab and body (of Duramin manufacture) were normally part of the Rank lightweight specification.

Such a modest pace of 30mph – in 2010 – would seem pedestrian-like and with five-speed gearbox, the Chieftain was only capable of perhaps a maximum of 37mph. However, last instruction from George Scott is not to speed too much: “Keep it down to 50 Bobby,” he suggests. I think he’s jesting but as I join the flow on Glasgow’s M8 motorway, I have to hold back the little Chieftain to that suggested maximum – honestly. Now having a six-speed gearbox, the potential pace of the Albion belies its 55-year-old age.

The vehicle is a huge credit to Andrew Malcolm, but it’s also a huge credit to Vernon Dyke who did its original restoration. Over the years, this Albion has had a few different owners but when Yorkshireman Vernon got his hands on it, he was to create something special, as he is a master craftsman of the highest calibre. And having trimmed the interior of the cab in a light blue tartan seems particularly apt now that it’s taken up residence north of the border. I can recall admiring his craft with this particular Albion in 2001 when it was then painted yellow. I never dreamt that nine years later, I’d have the joy of driving it for three days to recall another slice of transport history.Clydesdales but the Chieftain’s main attraction was if its unladen weight could shimmy under three tons, then they were allowed to travel at 30mph – a big difference to the 20mph limit of their heavier counterparts. So alloy cab and body (of Duramin manufacture) were normally part of the Rank lightweight specification.

Such a modest pace of 30mph – in 2010 – would seem pedestrian-like and with five-speed gearbox, the Chieftain was only capable of perhaps a maximum of 37mph. However, last instruction from George Scott is not to speed too much: “Keep it down to 50 Bobby,” he suggests. I think he’s jesting but as I join the flow on Glasgow’s M8 motorway, I have to hold back the little Chieftain to that suggested maximum – honestly. Now having a six-speed gearbox, the potential pace of the Albion belies its 55-year-old age.

The vehicle is a huge credit to Andrew Malcolm, but it’s also a huge credit to Vernon Dyke who did its original restoration. Over the years, this Albion has had a few different owners but when Yorkshireman Vernon got his hands on it, he was to create something special, as he is a master craftsman of the highest calibre. And having trimmed the interior of the cab in a light blue tartan seems particularly apt now that it’s taken up residence north of the border. I can recall admiring his craft with this particular Albion in 2001 when it was then painted yellow. I never dreamt that nine years later, I’d have the joy of driving it for three days to recall another slice of transport history.

Remembering Caledonian

As a child brought up in the suburbs of Dumfries, Jim Doig recalls happy memories of the comings and goings from the nearby depot of Road Services (Caledonian). In particular, Jim loved to see the night men ease out of the yard, with one of Caledonian’s regular trunk runs being to their Lancashire depot at Much Hoole near Preston.

Jim always hankered to recreate such a road run and in 2003, I was among those who joined him in reliving that dream. I’ll never forget coming back over Shap at midnight even though trying to take photographs in the pitch dark was hit and miss. Over the years, Jim has tinkered with the timings and in 2010 he decided on a 10am Friday departure slot. And to prevent some of the previous run's horrendous chew through the late afternoon traffic around Preston, our turn round point was to be the Truckhaven truck stop at Carnforth.

Naturally, the start of the run (just off the A75 Dumfries bypass) has always been on what Jim describes as “hallowed ground.” Although to you and me it may just seem like the loading area behind a big Currys store, the concrete apron is actually on the site of where Caledonian had their main transport yard. It’s perhaps no surprise that Jim’s own restored motor – which leads us out on the run – is a 1984 Bedford 7.5-tonne curtainside which has been repainted in the old Caledonian colours when operated on the Carnation Milk contract.

This year didn’t see a huge number of us easing away from the start but don’t think that lessened our enjoyment. Naturally Jim tries to follow the original trunk route, which the Cally night men of old would have followed, so we first thread through the centre of Dumfries before visiting both Annan and Gretna. However, to me, the run doesn’t really start until we join the big, wide (and very quiet) old A6 trunk road south of Carlisle – but first a stop for sustenance.

Unlike the guys who used to do this run every night to earn a crust, the road run fraternity following in their wheel tracks do it for pleasure, and regularly stopping for a cup of tea and a butty is par for the course. Ian Shand (being a canny Scot) comes self-sufficient with a huge amount of tucker; but in the first big lay-by near High Hesket, there’s a big gathering of other runners, denoting there must be a great tea van. A number of guys from the Carlisle area are joining the run here and a trio of stunning ERFs look great on the eye. However, we can’t sit here all day, so after easing up and round the wonderful town centre of Penrith, the hammer goes down as we all have Shap summit computed in as our next pull in place.

The Chieftain is a super little motor to pilot. Now having a Homalloy-built cab, it’s slightly awkward to climb into, but once inside, the (non standard) seats are certainly comfortable. All-round vision is pretty good as there’s a small window in the back panel of the cab while the rear view mirrors give a reasonable picture of what’s behind.

Naturally changing cogs in the Albion six-speed gearbox is as smooth as you like and while the non-power assisted steering is a bit heavy at slow speed, it’s such a loveable motor to wind up and get going. The vacuum servo assisted footbrake gives a reasonable stopping ability but I’m naturally a bit guarded and slow on the long descent from the Shap summit. But I cannot resist, letting it rip down and through Huck Bridge past the cottages in the bottom of the first long drop from the summit. That drop always makes the heart flutter a bit as it’s always a lot steeper – and deeper – than you think.

Kendal is another busy town centre but I never tire of driving through this place. Looking through my mirrors to see the Millican ERF of Colin Whytock following behind makes me think of what the place was like before the M6 was built and all the main north/south traffic down the western side of Northern England was routed through this one town. Although I love recreating the drive through Kendal, I can imagine the Caledonian guys of old probably dreamed of the day when someone might build a motorway to bypass the place so they never had to drive through it again.

It isn’t long before the A6 takes us through Milnthorpe and we eventually pull into the huge expanse of the Truckhaven truck stop just outside Carnforth. It’s time again to chew the fat with fellow road runners but this time we can also enjoy the cafeteria’s daily special of steak pie and all the trimmings. While I make sure there’s enough space left to cater for the apple pie and custard dessert – great.

Our stop of 90 minutes or so seems to pass far too quickly and it’s just before 4pm when there’s a steady exodus from the truck stop. Like Pied Piper, the road run numbers have steadily grown through the day and I counted about 17 of us heading north back to Dumfries. And to me, the best part of the day.

Savouring shap

If you have a love for old commercials, then there is one experience you must enjoy at least once in your life. It doesn’t matter whether you have to beg, steal or borrow but just get yourself behind the wheel of something old which will allow you to savour the experience of climbing the A6 over Shap. It’s no good doing it in a modern truck as they make the haul seem effortless, but driving something like the ‘55 Chieftain, you’ll know what’s been achieved.

You need to start this experience somewhere south of Kendal. Driving through the town – even in the stop-start crawl of the Friday tea-time rush hour – just heightens the joy of what’s in prospect. And while it’s easy just to think of the final climb as the crux of negotiating Shap, the entire 16-mile run from Kendal to Shap village is something to be savoured.

It seemed to take longer than normal to clear the Kendal one-way system, but I could sense the Chieftain knew what was in prospect as the little Albion EN287 engine sounded excited about what was in prospect. We clear the de-restriction signs and I have the pedal down, as going up Shap is like climbing a series of steps. Strawberry Bank gives me the first slick downshifts and the first taste of what’s to come.

Through Selside and past the Plough Inn (under renovation) the Albion seems well on top of the job. My modest pace allows me to look well up to the top of the climb and in the distance, I can see reflections in the sun of other road runners grinding their way upwards. In days of old, this road could probably be filled with vehicles, some of which might decide to stop at the famous Jungle Café, which was located on the site now occupied by Kendal Caravans.

Drivers of old could check the time when they then passed the Leyland Clock (since moved into the museum at Kendal) but quickly it is the fierce two-mile climb to the summit. I’m soon down into fourth gear and can see others behind picking up on me but as the gradient eases, I have enough power to shift up to fifth and I’m soon leaving my followers behind.

It’s always great to reach the top but another ritual is to stop and read the plaques on the Shap memorial. It’s not the most hospitable place in the world and the weather can be downright awful, but it doesn’t cost anything to spend a couple of minutes of your life in respect for the guys from Caledonian – and many other companies – who worked this stretch of road until the M6 motorway opened in October 1970. And just remember, we now travel unladen yet the drivers of old were carrying all sorts of weights on their back.

You walk away from the memorial with all sorts of thoughts in mind, although firing up the little Albion brings a smile back onto my face. I know the gradual descent down through Shap village and then on to Penrith is another great stretch of road. And while the Carnforth Changeover officially ends back in Dumfries, there’s another couple of days of driving this small piece of Scottish-built history in prospect on Jim’s weekend bash.. What a lucky guy I am.