MY MISTAKE CHRISTMAS TREES
CHRISTMAS TREE BLUNDER ’Tis the season for a dodgy deal, some sub-standard axe work and a midnight dash from Scotland… By Bill Dean ILLUSTRATION ANITA WATERS
I
t was Friday night and I was sitting quietly, trying to reach my government weekly target of alcohol units after a week of early-start sobriety, when Ian walked into the pub. Seeing me, his usedcar-salesman smile got even bigger and less sincere (if that was at all possible), and he strolled over, indicating to the barmaid she should bring his usual and a fresh one for me. 66 TRUCKING March 2020
Minder had just started its run on mainstream telly, that’s how long ago this was, and Ian took Arthur Daley as his role model. He could enter a revolving door behind you, yet come out in front. Somehow he always ended ahead. He had a used car pitch on the nearby main road attached to a petrol station run by his father. The attached garage was where he stored whatever dodgy deals he’d got on the go. Any servicing
of his “one owner, lowmileage, executive cars” was done under the canopy. This usually only involved fitting a fully charged new battery so the ignition would catch, and putting three cans of STP in the engine. Valeting was done by his YTS trainee unless the local scouts were doing a fund-raising carwash. The employment exchange back then sent school-leavers out to get work experience at participating employers
and paid them an allowance. This was before they were all sent to university to graduate in Media Studies, run up a massive debt, and work flipping hamburgers. “I heard you’ve got a run up to Scotland next week.” This was news to me, but then he clearly knew someone who knew someone at the firm I was working for. I had won a nice little contract delivering electrical control
