Hgv driving instruction
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made easy or He's
paying for it himself
A lighthearted look by R. S. Mitchell
TO the world at large a driving instructor's job appears very easy. Tell people that you are an hgv driving instructor, and they will remark: "Nice cushy little job that, riding about all day looking at the birds".
But things are not quite what they appear. Having recently left the ranks of hgv driving instructors, I would like, with the help of Alf and Nigel, to reveal all. (Alf and Nigel being fairly typical of would-be lorry drivers who attend a course of training.) Alf is a 15-stone Cockney, who has missed the exemption period for a licence, while Nigel has never driven lorries before, is small in stature and peers at the world through a mass of hair and a pair of thick-lensed spectacles.
The first criorning of the course is usually spent in the classroom; the instructors are introduced to their respective trainees, two trainees per instructor, and each instructor is responsible for checking his trainees' driving licences. The excuses that are given for not having a driving licence never fail to amaze me — it's like going into a pub with no money. "I lost it in the washing machine: the firm's got it, mate; it hasn't come back yet; I lent it to my brother; it's at court: the dog chewed it."
Then comes the next dreaded question: "Have you driven lorries before?" A tense moment indeed, as the instructor waits with bated breath for the answer.
"No, but I drove a steamroller in 1927. No, but I have ridden a motorbike and sidecar. No, I have only driven electric milk floats. No, I passed my test on a lawnmower. No, only buses."
I can't tell you why, but we always had trouble with bus drivers. I remember the course when a driver and a conductor were being trained on the same vehicle, and when it came to the driving test, the conductor passed and the driver failed.
After a classroom session on the first morning, the trainees dash off to Fred's four-star transport cafe while the instructors munch their egg sandwiches in the classroom and compare notes about the forthcoming festivities. Drawing on incidents from my own experience, they can typically turn out like this:—
"This is the vehicle that we shall be using for the training," the instructor informs them. Little Nigel draws himself up to his full 5ft, giving the impression of a hippy owl, "It's a bit big, ain't it?" he remarks.
"I've driven bigger motors than this," replies his mate, big Alf, leaning nonchalantly on the vehicle.
The instructor shows them how to check the oil, water and fuel. Nigel manages somehow to spill five gallons of diesel fuel down his leg, while Alf has contrived to tip two pints of oil over the driving seat. "I couldn't help it, Guy, me hand slipped."
"Go and check the lights," growls the instructor through clenched teeth, mopping up the oil with his clean handkerchief.
Alf returns: "The lights are OK, Guy, they're all there." The instructor patiently explains that he wants Alf to see that the lights are all working, and off Alf goes again.
Eventually they are ready for the road, with the instructor in the driving seat, Alf in the middle, and Nigel crushed up against the door, a cigarette dangling from his mouth in an effort to kill the smell of diesel.
The instructor explains that he wants them to watch and listen to him, as he will be giving a demonstration drive with commentary.
Heads nod in agreement, the engine is started and off they go. with the instructor commentating: "Now I am approaching a traffic light and I want to turn left. I check my mirrors and give a left signal." A shout from big Alf. who is hanging out of the passenger window, with Nigel crushed beneath him. "Hello, darling, what are you doing tonight?" he yells at a mini-skirted girl.
Alf's head reappeared in the cab. "Did you see that? What a pair I" Nigel remarks nervously: "That's my wife."
Nigel immediately goes up in Alf's estimation, and all that is heard from him for the rest of the journey is Alf muttering: "Cor fancy that", and nudging Nigel from time to time.
The rest of the journey is enlivened when Alf drops his tobacco tin down the gear-lever hole, and the vehicle has to be stopped while everyone has a grope on top of the engine to retrieve the lost tin, and when Nigel gets his foot trapped in the passenger door, After the demonstration drive it is the would-be lorry-drivers' turn to take the wheel and, the instructor explains to them that he just wants them to get the feel of the vehicle.
"Right ho, Nigel, you can go first," says Alf, pushing Nigel out of the cab;There is a scream and Nigel disappears from view.
"Where's he gone?" asks Alf. "Down the bottom of this ditch.They always do.
A dishevelled Nigel scrambles out of the ditch, climbs into the cab, the instructor gets into the middle, with big Alf in the passenger seat, his arm resting on the window sill in true lorry-driver fashion.
"I think you'd better adjust the seat, Nigel," says our stalwart instructor, observing that Nigel's feet are not reaching the pedals.
Nigel grasps the adjusting lever and tugs it, and instantly becomes trapped under the steering wheel by a mad seat.
Finally with the help of the instructor Nigel is ready to go, and with two hands to turn the ignition key, the engine is started. The instructor tells him to drive away when he is ready, and offers a silent prayer to the patron saint of driving instructors.
Nigel struggles with the gears. The sounds that emanate from the transmission can be likened to sawing a gearbox in half.
The noise suddenly stops, the vehicle leaps into the air and off they go. The man that had to take six car tests has taken to the road with a lorry, and is attempting his first gear-change. Mere crunching sounds from the gearbox and Nigel is in third.
This first attempt at gear-changing can be a tense moment. I know of one instructor whose first trainee started in second gear, went into third, and then into reverse. The vehicle was quite all right until the trainee removed his foot from the clutch pedal, when there was a loud bang and the differential assembly dropped out on to the road.
"Slow down, Nigel," says the voice of authority, "you are approaching a narrow bridge." The instructor's head bangs against the windscreen. "The brakes area bit fierce," says Nigel. A horn toots from behind and the car driver nearly has a heart attack trying to avoid running into the rear of the lorry.
"Now then, Nigel, just take it steady over the bridge, and watch the trailer in the mirrors." Nigel drives steadily forwards, jerking his head from side to side. He has the dreaded mirror disease. Motorists coming from the opposite direction have all driven on to the grass verge to get out of the way.
"Don't take a brick out of the wall," says Alf, "Or you'll get four faults."
The bridge is safely negotiated and the vehicle gathers speed, and the queue of traffic behind is beginning to thin out. Nigel gets into top gear and 40 mph is reached.
Alf sits very quietly, gripping the door handle, probably ready to jump out. The instructor is talking constantly to Nigel in a reassuring tone, and it is not long before the cafe is reached.
The instructor tells Nigel to drive into the cafe on the right-hand side of the road when it is safe for him to do so.
Nigel swings the lorry across the road, amid a squeal of brakes, as a passing motorist uses his front number plate as a snowplough to allow them to enter the cafe.
Teas and cigarettes all round, then it is Alf's turn to drive.
Alf deposits himself behind the wheel, and swings the lorry out of the car park with quiet confidence. Pity we had to stop and let the trailer brake off. Approaching the first road junction, the instructor informs Alf that he wants him to turn right. Alf is busily looking down at the floor of the cab, so the instructor, moving towards the handbrake, asks him what he is looking for. "The brake pedal," replies Alf.
The instructor yanks on the handbrake, and the vehicle comes to a jerky halt in the middle of the road junction, amid lots of horn blowing and fist-shaking from passing drivers. "Do you know," said Alf, "I looked down at that big shiny pedal and thought that it was the accelerator?"
The instructor points out a few of the facts of life to Alf, and they drive back to base. The first day is over, and the instructor hopes for better things tomorrow.
The second day dawns bright and clear, and once again it is in the classroom to start with, and the dreaded questions.
"How would you find an air leak on an air braking system?" asks the instructor.
"Drive the lorry into a river anc1 look for air bubbles coming up," replies Nigel beaming all over his face.
And so it goes on. I once asked someone what he would not do on seeing the falling or fallen rocks sign, and he said: "Build a greenhouse." I also asked a trainee vi/hat would be the first thing that he would do in the event of an accident and he said: "Look for another job."
In the afternoon it's reversing time. The reverse manoeuvre is the first that is carried out on the test, and while Nigel is reversing, Alf is happily putting him right.
"Left hand a bit come on — right hand — come on — Crash! Stop."
After the session the plastic cones are all mangled and the poles are bent, but Nigel and Alf are reasonably happy that they can do it on the big day. So it is out on to the road again.
And so it goes on, more questions, more driving. The uphill start, where the lorry at the head of a queue of traffic is slowly rolling back as Nigel and the instructor are locked in a silent battle over the handbrake, Nigel trying to let it off and the instructor trying to pull it on. The gearchange exercise with big Alf pulling the gear lever out by the roots. The downhill start with Alf managing to get the handbrake jammed on, in front of a pedestrian crossing and the instructor having to get out and get under to release it. A traffic warden heard to remark: "Get that b y circus out of here."
Uncoupling the tractive unit from the semi-trailer, and re-coupling, Nigel manages to wind the trailer landing legs down on his foot, and Alf pulls the wires out of the trailer plug.
And so the test day arrives, the lorry has been washed by Nigel, supervised by Alf, and the nervous trainees enter the testing station office and disappear into the toilet.
All 15 stones of Alf are reduced to a • quivering heap . The instructor drags them out of the toilet as the examiner greets Alf, who promptly drops his driving licence on the floor. The licence falls open' at the page with the endorsement on it. The examiner picks,it up, and asks Alf to sign his name on the examiner's pad. Alf scrawls his name on the pad. The examiner checks the signature and Alt's licences, and off they go.
Good luck, Alf and Nigel and all would-be lorry-drivers. And a salute to all the hgv driving instructors who manage to turn them out without losing their sanity.