M62 Army Bus Blast Horror By Harold Cunliffe
Memorial at Hartshead Moor Services
When I visit my family who live at York, the M62 motorway is the chosen route.
W
hen passing the Leeds intersection of the motorway a group of high rise flats can be seen in the distance. These were built during the mid-1960’s when local authorities decided to build high rise dwellings. Many have since been demolished. At this period, having just left school, I was employed by a cabinet maker at Green Lane, Heywood. The Epson Hi-Grade factory won the contract to produce the kitchen furniture for the new high rise flats. Three large furniture vans would cross the Pennines laden with units heading towards Yorkshire almost on a daily basis to destinations to Hull, Sheffield, Leeds and many other Yorkshire towns who had building projects. 36
Back then the route to Yorkshire from Heywood was via Blackstone Edge due to the M62 not being in existence. This was a bleak road to navigate during the winter months; just a narrow road would appear out of the darkness as you proceeded. One night the driver and I were driving along the moorland road making our way towards Rochdale after delivering a full load of units to a building project at Leeds, where a large cluster of high rise dwellings were under construction. For the drivers of H.G.V’s there were no motorway services where they could relieve themselves or gain refreshment, they relied upon transport café’s which were dotted around and provided inexpensive quality meals. On the night in question the driver announced that he needed the toilet, rather urgently. With this in mind he parked at the side of the narrow road, then he grabbed a toilet
LANCASHIRE & NORTH WEST MAGAZINE
roll from behind his seat and shot off at great speed down the steep hillside. Trans Pennine roads are very dark in winter so I had no idea where he was located. We were still a distance from home so I decided to relieve myself by standing at the side of the vehicle. Being so dark I did not see a disused rusty paint tin at the side of the road as I made my way along the side of the furniture van, accidently kicking it sent it rolling down the hillside. The action of relieving myself was interrupted by an expletive from the darkness, one I am unable to repeat but obviously came from the direction of the drivers position. Then, out of the darkness came the driver at speed and holding his pants, and looking distressed. I asked him what had happened. “I am shaking with fear,” he commented. “I had just got down to business, then I heard something approaching me, it must have been www.lancmag.com
