We had almost despaired of finding an RV that suited our requirements as ‘full-timers’ as well as coping with Mo in a wheelchair. We had searched the Country from one end to the other looking for that particular vehicle with the “Oooh” factor and now we were on the point of giving up and, perhaps, ordering a second best choice. On the off chance of a miracle happening, we had once again dropped into Freedom Motorhomes in Tewkesbury and described in great detail our dream RV to Nicky Semark, the saleslady, who reluctantly showed us a brochure of the very vehicle we had just described, a Forest River Georgetown 346DS. I say reluctantly because the vehicle we had dreamed of turned out to require an HGV licence and at that time it was company policy of Freedom Motorhomes not to import such vehicles – notwithstanding the fact that Nicky also knew that I didn’t have an HGV licence either! But, at least we knew that the vehicle we wanted actually did exist, even if we were just as far away as ever from getting our hands on it – that is until Nicky persuaded the Directors of Freedom Motorhomes to take pity on us and import, on a very special one-off basis, the vehicle we had dreamed of. It didn’t take too long to decide what extras we wanted to be factory-fitted and the order was signed and sealed with the deposit being paid for by the part exchange of our Bürstner T625. That left us with the minor problems – such as getting rid of all of our personal effects and furniture, selling the house, telling the family that we were about to become nomads and, in general, worrying ourselves sick as to whether we had made the right decision – most people that we confided in told us we were stark raving mad but lamented, “Oh, how they wish they had the nerve to do what we were about to do.” It was then that fate stepped back into our lives in a very big way – almost as if it were saying sorry for the mess it had created several years beforehand when it had caused Mo to have the accident that turned our former lives upside down.
Honestly, as true as I sit here writing this account - on the very day that we had finalised and signed the order for the Georgetown, we had driven from Tewkesbury to Taunton to do some food shopping before we made our way home along the A38 to Williton - when about 7 miles west of Taunton we came to the Quantock Orchard Caravan Park. Over a period of time we had visited several sets of friends who had caravanned in Quantock Park and although we didn’t know the site very well, it was literally only a couple of miles away from our house in Williton. To this day, neither Mo nor I know why we turned left into Quantock Park on that afternoon but turn left we did and within a few minutes we were parked in front of the shop, where I went into Reception and started chatting to the chap behind the desk. I explained to him that we were in the process of selling our house in order to move into an RV at some time in the near future and asked him if he had a pitch big enough to accommodate a 36ft RV for a couple of weeks or so in September while we transferred our gear from the house to the RV. “No problem”, said he, “ we have a super-pitch which will take your vehicle easily and we have several other hard standings and grass pitches plenty big enough, as well.” We got to talking about one thing and another; I told him my name and gave him my contact details and I found out that his name was Mike Barratt and that he owned and ran the Park in partnership with his wife, Sara and their children, Richard and Charlotte. This was their second year of owning the site and he was not looking forward to the fact that the really busy part of the season was fast approaching – I sympathised with him explaining that Mo and I had spent six years as Caravan Club Wardens, running the St Agnes Beacon site in Cornwall in the early 1990’s, and understood only too well the stresses and strains of running a caravan site in August at peak season. “That’s interesting,” he said, with a big smile on his face, “My wardens have just resigned through ill health and leave at the end of the month – will you come and work for me?” I took it that he was joking and replied “of course- anytime, just give us a call” and made my way back out to the car to rejoin Mo, laughing like a madman!
At 10 ‘o’ clock the following morning the phone rang – it was Mike asking if Mo and I could visit the Park that afternoon for tea and an informal interview with Sara, his wife – the penny finally dropped - he wasn’t joking yesterday, his wardens actually had resigned and he really was offering me a job! Now you know as well as me that any man in his late fifties does not get offered paid employment just like that – once past fifty, you are considered exactly that – past it – and yet here I was, currently unemployed, other than being a full time carer for my wife, having spent over a six-figure sum on a new Motorhome and wondering where the heck I was going to get the money from – and I had just been offered full time employment in a job that I loved doing – now is that fate, or what? Mo and I sat down to discuss the situation; we had just spent a fortune on buying a Motorhome with the intention becoming ‘full-time’ tourists but we knew that it would not be delivered for at least 3 months, we had to have time to sell our house and the furniture as well as sorting out the logistics of moving from the house to the RV and we had to sort out the continuing supply chain for Mo’s drugs whilst we were on the road. It seemed the ideal opportunity to earn some money for a couple of months whilst we were waiting for delivery of the RV and so we accepted the job on a three month basis which gave Mike time to advertise for new wardens as well as giving us a breathing space to re-organise our personal lives. It was now about mid-June and we were due to start work at Quantock on the 1st July 04.
We had already spoken in great detail with Mo’s GP as well as the Specialist in charge of the Pain Relief Team at Musgrove Hospital in Taunton, all of whom had been dealing with Mo ever since the accident which had paralysed her. In general, they could not see any problem with drugs supply whilst we were on the move but they did ask that, if possible, we could arrange some form of address within the GP’s catchment area to make life easier when writing prescriptions for us. We asked whether a PO Box number address based in the local Post Office, backed up by a mobile telephone number would suffice and received assurance that that was perfectly in order. That was easily arranged and put in place within a couple of days.
Next we called upon the services of a local Auctioneer and Estate Agent to do two things, first to sell off by auction all of the household goods and chattels and second, to sell the house - He was an absolute gem of a man and quite freely and willingly told us we were going about it all the wrong way! First of all we should have advertised all of the ‘big’ items (such as the white goods) in the local papers because that way we could determine the price we would receive rather than trusting to luck at getting a good price at auction; only when we had exhausted the sale of items in the papers should we offer the rest up for auction; at which point he departed telling us he would give us a week’s grace before he came to do an inventory for the auction. Say no more – nudge, nudge, wink, wink! Within 24 hours a complete list was delivered to the local paper and 3 days later we were selling the furniture at a phenomenal rate and making much more money than we had ever expected – so much so, that we had already outstripped the total value we had put on the entire contents and we still had about half of them left. It was at that time that I made a very bad mistake - thinking that we had sold most of the valuable goods and that the remainder would probably only fetch ‘peanuts’ at auction I promised Mo she could have all of the money raised at auction as her 25th wedding anniversary present – more on that subject later.
The house was also advertised for sale on the same day as the furniture advert went in; once again we had taken the advice of the local agent and based the selling price on a sensible figure in the hope that the house would sell reasonably quickly – the paper came out on Friday morning and the house was sold subject to contract, at the asking price, before Friday lunchtime – on the proviso that the purchaser could move in before the end of June! Our initial planning had assumed that we would move into the Bürstner T625 until such times as the RV arrived but it was at that stage we remembered that we had already given over the T625 as a deposit for the RV, so we were in effect homeless! I made a rapid phone call to Mike at Quantock Orchard to tell him of our plight at which point he simply said, “No problem, we have a static caravan you can use until the RV arrives.” And so it came to pass that just over a week after starting out on our venture, on the last Sunday in June, we moved into the Quantock Static having disposed of our house and all of our furniture - shell-shocked does not even begin to describe our feelings at that time. In fact, we were worried that things were going too well so we agreed not to tell anybody about our good fortune, in case we should tempt fate and wake up one morning to find that it was all a dream - it really did seem that every time a problem occurred we found the answer before the problem became a problem.
We settled down at Quantock Orchard Caravan Park for a few weeks in order to gather our senses and plan the way forward; the static into which we had moved actually measured 38ft long so it gave us a pretty good idea as to what we would eventually be able to carry in the RV. Previously, we had exchanged the Volvo estate for a tiny Daewoo Matiz car that we towed on a trailer behind the Bürstner and over a period of time that turned out to be a big mistake for several reasons, not the least of which was that on occasions we needed the car to tow it’s own trailer – and the Daewoo was to small to tow a trailer, in fact, we couldn’t even get a tow bar to fit it. The suspension in the Daewoo was so harsh that the slightest judder from the wheels would transfer straight up Mo’s back and thump her in the neck very painfully – we had to change the car for a bigger one with softer suspension but the problem with the new car was that it was much heavier and, in fact, was too heavy for the original trailer – so we had to get a new trailer as well. Apart from the expense, there was another problem in that the new car and trailer, in total, weighed half as much again as we had estimated and, therefore, cut down on our RV payload even more!
Now it was time to think about the Heavy Goods Vehicle driving test. I phoned the Driver Vehicle Licensing Authority (DVLA) at Swansea to make sure that I did actually need to pass the HGV test and was told quite specifically that in order to drive a vehicle that weighed over 7½ tonnes I would need a Class C License (the old HGV2) and, furthermore, if I intended to tow a trailer that weighed over ¾ of a tonne I would need a C+E License (the old HGV1). First of all I had to go for an eyesight test, followed by a thorough medical test, followed by the new fangled Driving Theory Test, all of which I passed reasonably easily. I then contacted the local HGV driving school and arranged for an assessment drive for them to determine how many lessons I would need; it was set for the following Saturday morning – a quick trip up to the local disused airfield and go through some form of driving manoeuvres to find out if I was considered suitable for training. The reality turned out somewhat different; I arrived at the pick-up point where I met my instructor and a 34ft box-body truck for the first time, I explained to him that I had driven a 24 ft Motorhome but was upgrading to a 36ft RV and needed whatever practical experience that he could impart to me. At this point he drove me to the local trading estate, explained a few basic items about the vehicle I was in, sat me in the driving seat and told me to drive around the periphery of the estate. A couple of left-hand turns, a couple of right-hand turns, up and down the gear box once to learn the intricacies of an 8 speed box and pull up gently back where we started - at which point the instructor said quite simply “We’ll have to work hard but you’ll do.” At that point he said “OK, turn right out of the main gate and follow my instructions” whereupon he proceeded to make me drive right through the middle of Taunton at 11.30 am on a busy Saturday morning. He called it a ‘baptism of fire’ and said later that he would not have considered it had he not thought me capable - so although I didn’t hit anything or anybody, it is a drive that I will remember for the rest of my life! It was decided that I would need a six-day course, that is 5 afternoons (4 hours each session) of driving tuition followed by the Class C test on the morning of the 6th day. A week later, my ears still ringing from the abuse heaped upon my head concerning my useless and inept driving, my obvious lack of parentage and if he, my instructor, had anything to do with it, he wouldn’t grant me a push bike license – I found myself facing the driving test which I very, very nervously proceeded to pass with flying colours! I say nervously, not because I was frightened of driving an HGV but simply because I had already paid nearly £1000 for the driving course and didn’t want to fail it, as well as having already ordered and paid for our new RV. That little piece of paper proclaiming my pass, at that moment in time, was the most important document in my life, for at least I could now legally drive the RV even if, at this stage, I couldn’t tow with it!
Two weeks later, I was back at the same pick-up point with the same instructor, this time equipped with a 20 tonne articulated lorry. The routine was much the same, a quick trip round the trading estate followed by a trip into town and then, at long last, a trip up to the airfield where I was allowed to practise my reversing procedures and to unravel the mysteries of the 16 speed ‘splitter’ gear box – a phenomenal device designed especially to put fear into a learner driver. All followed by a grumpy “We’ll have to work hard but you’ll do” from the instructor who was still unsure why he had agreed to take me on once again, especially after the work he had to put in last time! This time I was told I would only need a five-day course - with the result that at the end of the week, there I was once again facing the driving test, albeit this time much, much more confident. Oh, how apt the saying “Pride comes before a fall.” The ‘reverse into a garage’ manoeuvre was the first part of the test and I made a complete ‘pigs ear’ of it, I finished the manoeuvre but made it look so difficult that I completely demoralised myself. I was convinced that I had already failed the overall test so I drove out of the garage and then sat still in the cab for several minutes to pull myself together. I decided that, having already failed, I might just as well complete the remainder of the test to the best of my ability in order to be better prepared for my next attempt in a couple of weeks time and it was in that relaxed frame of mind that I carried on. Next I was asked to do the braking test – a relatively easy test - followed by a request from the examiner to reverse the vehicle about 100 yards, in a straight line, back to the starting point and from there we set off into town for the actual driving part of the test.
It was about this time that I finally began to realise just how totally stupid most other road-users are, when in the company of a large, relatively unwieldy, vehicle. There is a particular road junction at a set of traffic lights in the middle of Taunton, with two lanes on my side – one to go straight ahead and one to turn left at a very sharp angle - and, of course, the examiner asked me to turn left. I needed to straddle the centre of the two lanes on my side of the road, in order to get the trailer wheels safely around the corner without touching the nearside kerb. I knew, I just knew, that some idiot car driver was going to ignore my left-hand indicators and drive up the inside of me before I could start my turn left – I checked my mirrors – and there he was, right on cue! Perhaps it was because of my relaxed state of mind, that I did not open my mouth in anger – I quietly explained my predicament to the examiner and told him that I would not be able to complete the move until that idiot car driver had cleared my nearside. Next I had to make a fairly tight turn to the right in some particularly heavy traffic and this time a bicycle came up on my outside and proceeded to ride right across the front of me as I was actually driving forward in the middle of the turn. Finally, as I was driving along the High Street which was full of pedestrians at the time, a lady pushed her baby-buggy straight out into the road and then stood on the kerb to check and see if anything was coming – thank goodness my nerves were tingling and I could foresee her doing it before she actually did it.
Too many other things happened on the test to describe in this article but suffice to say that I got safely back to the test centre and completed the remaining tests whereupon I finally sat back in the tractor to await the handing over of the failure certificate from the examiner. In the usual manner he explained to me several points of detail in my driving style that needed attention and then congratulated me on having passed. I simply sat there dumbfounded – I really could not believe it – I actually said to him that I had made such a mess of the garage reverse that he couldn’t possibly pass me – to which he replied that he had given me the benefit of doubt that my ‘test’ nerves had got the better of me and he had immediately thrown in the extra long reverse in a straight line in order to check whether I could reverse the vehicle safely. I am not ashamed to say that, just for a second or two, I was overcome by emotion – with the stress of the past couple of months of selling the house and contents, sorting out our new lives, helping Mo to adapt to our new lifestyle and the intense study I had undertaken in order to pass this driving license - and now I had achieved our ultimate goal, I could legally drive our new ‘home’ and tow our car behind us where so ever we decided to go.
The examiner was obviously used to such shows of emotion and just sat quietly in the passenger seat but then he asked me a strange question, he said “Excuse me for being so personal but you are quite a few years older than the average person wanting to take a Class 1 test, so why are you doing it?” I briefly explained Mo’s accident and our subsequent circumstances and how I was going to collect our new RV later on that week and that, although I already had the Class 2 licence, everything became so much more logistically convenient if I could tow the car and trailer at the same time. At which point, with a big beaming smile on his face, he said “Thank you. In this job I get so used to people taking the test for whatever reason and not really caring too much as to whether they pass or fail – that to actually be able to pass a candidate to whom the test means such an absolute change of lifestyle has been an a real pleasure – you have made my day.”
At last we had climbed our ‘Everest’ – We were safely established for the coming Winter on a quiet site and earning some pocket money; Mo had received a cheque from the furniture auction that would have been large enough to keep the RV in petrol for a month of Sundays – if she hadn’t had other ideas on how to spend it. We had raised enough cash to pay for the new RV plus enough to cover servicing costs for the next year or so and put away a nest egg for a rainy day. On top of all that, I could now legally drive it and so all we had to do was collect it from Freedom later in the week and then take some time out to catch our breath and learn how to live our new home. |
