Don't change the LDoY says champ
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FIVE TIMES FINALIST CHRIS O'REILLY TALKS TO ALAN HAVARD
• It's inevitable, of course, that when you meet the reigning Lorry Driver of the Year you should ask him how it feels to be the country's top driver. Who am I to buck convention? I met 1969 LDoY champion Chris O'Reilly, and his pretty wife Sheila, at AEC's Southall works last week when they were down from Leeds as guests of the company (guess whose vehicle Chris drove in the final?), and so I bowed to tradition and asked him just that.
Five times a finalist since 1964 (the only
year he missed 1965—was the year his then employers didn't enter) Chris answered with a broad Irish grin: "After five years it feels very satisfying." On his past record, Chris could take some shifting next year.
Perhaps it was a shade unfortunate that Chris should have won the title the way he did, because the announced winner (Stanley Chapman of Shell-Mex and BP) was the next day dethroned when stewards checked the results and found a scoring discrepancy. This made Chris a sort of winner-by-protest and no amount of explaining that the stewards did this themselves after turning down Chris's protest cuts much ice.
Why did he protest? An interesting point, it turns out. Chris wasn't thinking about the possibility that he might be the winner—he just knew that Stan Chapman had touched the marker on the height-judging test, incurred the 210 points penalty, and therefore couldn't be. There followed a night and day of sweating it out, and it was then announced that Chris was the 1969 LDoY.
"I felt very sorry for Chapman," he tiald me. "In fact I wrote him a letter."
Of course, there's another obvious question with which to ply any national figure like the champion lorry driver. What's the secret? So I, in my conventional way, asked Chris "how he became the Lorry Driver of the Year".
Again I was rewarded with that broad Irish grin which seems to cover the O'Reilly
face as readily as the rain clouds cover Killarney. "There are certain points that help."
What points? The grin widened. "I'm not telling you everything."
So there you are—that's what comes of being conventional. He was more willing to talk about 1970. Having been a class winner at Leeds five times already, he knows a fair bit about ii all. There is, he says, definitely mental pressure on a driver in the eliminator; more in the final. And when you're champ—and the target everybody's aiming for—the pressure is pretty hefty. Chris didn't pretend to the non-nerves type of heroism.
"You get a little nervous in the stomach before the tests start, but it goes off when you get going," he said.
I suspect that one of the little points which Chris didn't want to divulge is, in fact, his wife Sheila (if she doesn't mind being called a little point). Sheila obviously takes a keen interest in her husband's driving, encourages him in his job, and is constructively critical of his performances. She discusses the tests with him afterwards and points out faults, suggests where he could have improved.
It's one of those occasions where a critical wife can help a man, I mused.
Back came the O'Reilly grin. "I can tell you this; my wife'll be very critical if I don't win next year."
Why does every Irishman seem to come from Dublin? There must be a reason, because Chris is no exception. His wife's a Yorkshire lass—hence Chris working in Leeds, and with no intention of shifting away.
He takes his work seriously, regards it as a profession, and it's noticeable that the famous grin disappears when you start talking to him about drivers and driving.
We started with the competition itself. What would he like to see altered? Nothing, really; it turned out Chris likes it just the way it is. He's glad the snooker tests have gone (executive committee please note), because he doesn't regard them as a test of skill. "In driving you have to drive to miss things, not hit them," was his comment on this controversial test which he regarded as depending entirely on luck.
But he had nothing but praise for the contest; it was useful both in promoting safety-consciousness among the drivers and in giving them an interest—making them feel noticed. Because the entry to the eliminator depends on a year's freedom from blameworthy accident, drivers (himself included) started thinking about it right at the start of the year.
"I've always got in the back of my mind the thought that I mustn't lose that record of 'no blameworthy accident'," he said.
What about small vans? They should be in too, was his emphatic answer. You want everybody in, not some out? Chris has a very positive way of thinking which is quite refreshing.
He thinks that tanker drivers do well in the competition as a whole because they usually have to switch from vehicle to vehicle and so obtain greater experience of different vehicles. The one-man, one-vehicle approach can hinder success in the contest, he feels.
What about the other drivers? Well, traffic doesn't frustrate him. But he did venture an opinion that buses were worse than cars for trying his patience. Ninetyfive per cent of lorry drivers were "very professional", knew what they were doing, and helped other road users.
What did he do if someone cut in front of him? "I count up to ten."
Because he's Irish I didn't dare ask what happened on the stroke of eleven!
Would he ever be interested in doing anything else except drive commercial vehicles? His practical answer was that it would depend what turned up; salary and so on. But he wasn't very keen on the thought. He'd tried being a welder but liked the outdoor life of driving. Sheila liked him being a driver, too.
What if he were a trunk driver and not a 40-hour-week C licence driver?
I think she had her own opinions about
The two young O'Reilly daughters had the last word, before Mum and Dad left to see a West End show—in absentia, as it were, because they were staying with Gran in Leeds. "I'll bet they were thrilled about you winning?" I enthused.
But I was wrong. They didn't see Chris win the eliminator, they didn't see him at the Final.
"Lorries," he grinned, "don't interest them. Now prams...."