duckin' 'n divin'

Another WAFFLE, but I try to keep them car related!

In my yoof (youth), I was a bit of a ducker and diver, so I can relate to either Del Boy or Rodders in Only Fools and Horses, except that me and my mates did work like the fools and horses mentioned.

One job that I did on the side was a little unusual and a bit brave, I suppose.
A mate of mine happened to live in a posh area of an Essex town because the council had the property there large enough for his family; he was the eldest of six kids plus mum and dad.
Over the road lived an eccentric middle aged accountant who didn't drive but needed a shuvver (chauffeur) to take him on his rounds,
I had passed the IAM test, scrubbed up well and looked the biz when in a neat suit, so my mate offered my services knowing I would be interested in a bob or two in hand.
This guy had a top spec Merc and owned stables of jumpers ridden by Olympic names, and a small rally team of Sunbeam Rapiers.
There was money, but from dubious sources; he was bookkeeper and accountant to some of the shadiest, to the East of London and West Essex.
I said I would do it to fit in with my shifts and he agreed.
Incidentally, the wagon was an auto, and the first I had driven, but I didn't let on; easy-peasy.

We went on a round, randomly timed, with the geezer in the back with thousands spread out on the back seat.
I would toot at the door of a bookies or second hand car dealers, in a geographical range from well into the East End and out to mid-Essex, and out would come a minion to collect from a partially opened rear window, envelopes full of readies.
Deal done, I would race off to next drop off.
I felt a bit like one of the bag-men you saw in the movies of the twenties in Chicago with Al Capone in.
Our motor was this huge Merc, so fitted the image.
He was quite used to East London Jack-the-lads, so banter was accepted when no one around to impress.

There were other occasions when my services were required.
On one such deployment, he was attending a big function at a posh country club in the depths of Essex.
It was an all day affair, so after dropping him off at the door, and handing him over to a scary bouncer, I had the Merc for the rest of the day.
Took my dad for a run out, which went down very well.
When I picked up the accountant in the evening, the car park was full of limos with their wrestler style drivers, and me, a skinny runt with huge motor; I felt a lot bigger mentally even though dwarfed physically by these gangsters.

At the other end of the spectrum, he asked me to drive him down to the Cotswolds and around for the weekend.
I didn't feel too enthusiastic, him appearing a little odd at times, and not knowing the purpose of the visit.
So I asked if I could bring a mate.
No probs, and all paid: hotel, meals, the lot.
My rally pal was keen and so all agreed.
From the accountant's house, first port of call was to a baker to pick up a huge hamper of grub; good start.
As we journeyed West, all became clear.
Whilst he had these horses, he did not ride himself; think it would have needed a cart horse as he was a corpulent fellow.
His stable people had loaded up the horseboxes and gone ahead.
We would be following one of the most famous and snobby hunts in that part of the world.
I got on well with his stable employees, most being Essex country folk, and knew them from their keeping the Merc spotless, but the toffs on the hunt were a different matter.
There were some farmers, but most were dreadful posers with swanky clobber, and accentuated luvvy greetings and shots of sherry or other and plenty of champers.
Mind you, our grub (baker's pies) was a match for any of theirs.
Their shuvvers were quite decent chaps, but peak caps and smarter than me, but then they were most likely employees with uniforms provided.
Our Merc was certainly not out of place, with Jags being popular.
Following the hunt meant keeping an eye out for the horses across fields, second guessing their direction and trying to cut them off.
The tank (Merc) handled well considering its weight and size and just fitted down some lanes.
Got a bit exciting if the hounds and riders did an about turn, no doubt a wiley fox out-foxed them, not playing to the rules.
So field gateways provided turning points or passing places.
It got a bit manic at times when all came together, hunt followers cars, horses and hounds, so just sat tight and waited whilst the plonkers shouted instructions at each other, in a mixture of High Street Kensington, Farmer Giles and workers of all accents.
Thank goodness the protesters hadn't been invented in those days or it would have been total gridlock and agro.
Ignoring what the unspeakable were trying to do to the uneatable (Oscar Wilde), it was a fun weekend cruising down and back and chucking a couple of ton of luxury motor round country lanes; not at all what I was expecting, more like rallying, I suppose.
The posh hotel and grub were incidental and, frankly, wasted on both my mate and I, a few decades before I would appreciate such things.
Back to Essex and our passenger was chuffed with the way we kept up with the nutters, so that was OK.
He'd impressed, with our help, the circle he mixed with at the Horse of the Year Show jumping events, and we'd behaved ourselves and put a tasty motor through its paces; win, win, all round.
Still not sure if we actually made any dosh out of it, but then it cost us nuffin'.

Well Rodders, cushty, eh!

Stewart !

Well it never amazes me what a good forum this is !

We have an amazing mix of people on here and you just prove that with theses mini literature ramblings.

It might not be everyone's cup of tea - these stories, but I for one respect your youthful renditions, so may they continue !

By the way........ STILL ....... future owner of a RCZ !!

If you hurry up and get one - you could join us on the biggest RCZ meeting in the world - the Euro Meeting in Zeeland

Plecodoras wrote:

Stewart !

Well it never amazes me what a good forum this is !

We have an amazing mix of people on here and you just prove that with theses mini literature ramblings.

It might not be everyone's cup of tea - these stories, but I for one respect your youthful renditions, so may they continue !

By the way........ STILL ....... future owner of a RCZ !!

If you hurry up and get one - you could join us on the biggest RCZ meeting in the world - the Euro Meeting in Zeeland

Plecodoras, et al,

Thanks for your kind words.
I bash away at the keyboard on a vast range of topics, it being a sort of hobby.
I produced copious volumes for a living, but on retirement choose to do it for my amusement, and possibly that of others, and on subjects entirely unrelated to my vocation.
With help doing much of the manual work on the land, and then only in the hours of daylight, I need to keep the brain active in the dark hours, possibly aided by a wee dram, and tv is a huge problem with my tinnitus (wife watches rubbish, anyway! Shhhhhhh, me, I said nuffin').
I try not to bombard my targets with stuff not related to their speciality, so you are only subjected to a small part of my ramblings, much of which are rehashed specifically for the RCZ fora.
I am slowing down a bit (shouts of "thank goodness"), because snatching the right word comes slower and my spelling confidence is gradually diminishing.
Like so many old buffers, I am also in danger of repetition, deviation and pointless waffle; my kids (now with grand-kids) attest to this.
So, I'll shut up, and rummage for something loosely car related to throw at you soon.

Oh, and my efforts at flogging the impractical Zero are falling on stony ground with an occasional tyre kicker or time waster turning up, mainly because it is an interesting motor and I let them have a zap up the road and back.
That seems to put them off; p'raps for a change of trousers.
So, until I can reduce the fleet, the RCZ purchase is on hold.
Also, winter (yes we do get one, but gentler than UK) is upon us, so Zero is tucked away cosy like.
Olive harvest approaches, so crazy ATM (4WD quad) is to be fired up to shift maybe a ton and a half in forty kilo sacks up to main gate for forward transit to the press, which this year is looking promising so plenty of oil to use / give away during 2018.

Stewart WAFFLER.