George Spenceley recalls his years as a long distance lorry driver, the friends he made and the incidents that happened along the way.

Working nights in the winter in the cold, frost and fog I would wear my thick greatcoat in an effort to keep warm but after sitting for eleven hours and travelling at twenty miles an hour, the cold would become so intense that my breath would freeze on the inside of the windscreen.

The more I scraped the screen clean the worse it became, often my fingers would be almost frozen to the wheel after gripping it for so long. Most drivers had these problems for there was no heating in the cabs, we'd stop at a roadside transport cafe for a cup of hot tea.

When it was very foggy, so thick that we'd be travelling nose to tail, it didn't make any difference whether you thought you knew the route and every pot hole in it, as soon as the fog came down you were lost.

The lighting in the centre of most towns would become so bad that council workers would light paraffin lamps and place them by the bollards at certain road junctions to help the drivers.

I remember one run when I'd been to Doncaster, the fog was quite thick on the way there but on the return journey it became much worse, I managed to find the traffic lights in Doncaster and turned right to go on to the A1 behind another vehicle.

When he moved, I moved up behind him and the vehicles behind me did the same. The fog was so thick it was difficult to make out the sides of the road. We were crazy to go on but we couldn't just stop or leave our vehicles so we just crept along very slowly for a couple of hours until we came to a stop which seemed to go on for ages.

The driver behind got out of his vehicle thinking that I was in trouble and there was another chap walking along the pavement so we asked him how long was the hold up.

He explained that the driver at the front had missed the corner and he'd carried on into the power station. All the other vehicles had followed him.

Eventually one of the other drivers found the bridge and he went over it so I followed him leaving about sixty wagons stranded in Ferrybridge power station. The cooling towers there got the name of 'The Fog Machine'.

Ref 48- The Ethylene tanker

Another time I was visiting Manchester and it was about 7pm. and I found myself in thick fog. I thought I'd be clever and let the bus in front be my eyes. Every time he stopped I stopped behind him and when he moved forward I moved forward.

I thought he'd be heading for the city and as it was a straight road there should be no problem. Suddenly he decided to take a left turn and I followed him, he stopped so I stopped and waited.

There was a knocking on my cab door, it was the bus driver, 'Hello there, where are you heading?' he asked, 'I'm going to Northwich it's about thirty miles away' I replied.

He burst out laughing. 'You'll never get to Northwich this way kidder, the fog's so thick that all the buses have been taken off the road and you've followed me into the depot!'

George Spenceley, 2002