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By John White
Our May 2008 Rig of the Month owner is Darrell Holmes from Fort
St. John B.C. This is his story:
My life story should begin on the North shore of Kamloops BC,
where I was born and raised but since we are talking trucking and
transportation, the story really begins when I was 3 years old.
One afternoon my family traveled to Clinton BC to spend the
afternoon visiting relatives. Just before heading home Dad had
asked us all to go out and get into our car. I got into the front
seat of our 63 Chrysler and with the other kids in the back I did
what I had watched my parents do so many times before; sitting in
the driver’s seat I lifted the push-button automatic lever up and
pushed one of the buttons! The car immediately started rolling down
a bit of a grade. As I rolled past my poor Mom I can still remember
the expression on her face. Today the memory is priceless, but back
then her look was of sheer terror!
They were able to catch us and avert an accident but about 6
months later, not completely satisfied with the way my first
driving adventure ended, I decided to try my luck again. Only this
time it was on a bigger hill at my grandparents place in Valley
View. I am proud to tell you that I had much better results this
time. With me behind the wheel, Mom’s car rolled down the hill and
smashed into a Jeep at the bottom. After that episode everyone
figured I had learned my lesson and I would postpone my driving
career for a few years. Unfortunately that was not to be.
My father owned and operated a couple of portable Sawmills in
the Kamloops area. I was a busy toddler and, short of using a leash
and collar, Mom couldn’t contain me at home. Lucky for me she
decided that was too inhumane so on the weekends she would take a
break and send me off to work with my Dad. I was still very young
and would wander around watching and “helping” him when I could. I
also listened to the men cussing around the lunch camp fire and
diligently filed all those new words away figuring I could put them
to good use one day.
That day came when I was seven years old. It all started when my
Mom and Dad went out one afternoon and my oldest sister Ellen left
to take her horse up the road to the boarding pasture. I decided
that while she was gone, even though my feet could barely reach the
pedals, I would take the company Land Rover for a spin.
I knew where Dad kept the keys and the neighbor kids, Bill and
Brad Wilson, watched in disbelief as I got in, started it up, and
started to drive away. Two of the neighbourhood Dads saw me and
gave chase on foot. I got away but they jumped in their car and
caught me about 5 blocks later. Mr. Lloyd jumped in, threw me over
to the passenger side like a rag doll, and took me home. I was in
big trouble that time!
That day was a real learning experience. I learned a whole new
use for a metal handled fly swatter and my sister learned why seven
year old brothers should be leashed and tethered. I put my best
fireside campfire vocabulary to good use as I called her a variety
of colorful names and she in turn whooped my butt with the fly
swatter.
My poor Mom and Dad didn’t quite know what to do about me so Dad
started to take me to the bush with him a little more often. I
watched and rode with some of his truckers as they hauled lumber
and logs to a small mill on the north side of Kamloops. One driver
in particular, Steve Piccolo, was a big influence on me and that’s
when I developed my love for big trucks.
By the time I was 10, I was capable of operating the
forklifts and pick-up and as my Dad became more confident in my
ability to drive he would let me help him move his equipment from
one landing to the next. I was finally starting to be a big help to
him.
I was one of those kids that figured that if it wasn’t moving,
it should be pulled apart and fixed. That’s why by the age of ten I
was given the handle of “Mr. Fix It.” The problem was I would tear
something apart and then I wouldn’t be able to put it back together
so I would abandon the project.
Bob Wilson was another major influence in my love for trucking.
The Wilson family moved next door when I was about four and Bob had
a truck. I’m sure that if someone would have forewarned him about
me and my love of machinery they may not have moved in.
I would tag around after him and watch everything he did, all
the time asking a ton of questions which he would reluctantly
answer. I’m sure that at the time he never realized the wheels he
was setting in motion. I could often be found under one of his
trucks trying to check tire pressure with a stick, or checking for
leaks or flat tires which I would sometimes find after using the
stick. One time I even went to the extreme of stuffing my big Tonka
gravel truck between the duals of one truck just to see what would
happen. That little incident put a major damper on my sand box
trucking career and Bob wasn’t too happy with me either.
Before you knew it, I had my Class 5 license and then shortly
after I got my air ticket. I failed my Class 3 the first time and
didn’t do the road test again for about a year but that didn’t stop
me. I went to Calgary and hired on with a paving crew driving an
old International gas-pot with a 5&4. I didn’t have a clue
about how to shift a 5&4 until the owner’s son showed me but
after one lesson I figured it out and ran with it.
About a month later I got nervous about driving without a
license so I quit and was heading back home when I bumped in to a
guy who used to work for my Dad. He offered me a camp job outside
of Golden. Sweet deal - you didn’t need a license for a camp job!
After three months the job ended so I continued on back to Kamloops
where I decided that I should make it legal so I went and got my
Class 3.
I moved around a lot in my early years not quite ready to settle
down to anything too steady. I worked for Purity Feeds for a while
hauling grain to farmers around the area and then I worked building
Kitwanga Highway 37. I hauled gravel around Houston and then moved
over to Equity Silver Mines, also in Houston where I spent 4 ½
years driving rock truck or, as I called it, doing the 100 yard
dash. Opportunity at that job came quickly and it wasn’t long
before I was able to run just about everything on the claim.
One day I got bored so I quit and moved to Calgary where I
almost starved to death looking for work. Even though I had more
experience than a lot of drivers, companies couldn’t hire me
because I was too young for insurance purposes. I finally went out
and got my Class 1 and hired on with Economy Carriers hauling
petroleum products. I enjoyed the 2 ½ years I was there as well as
the transfer to the Edmonton branch that went with it.
Late one night in January of 1988, while hauling a B train full
of condensate to a pumping station around Sexsmith Alberta, I
suddenly came upon a herd of cattle in the middle of a secondary
road. The only warning I had was the eyeballs staring at me in the
dark. By the time I got my truck stopped there were a dozen
fatalities under it. To be honest that’s not too bad considering
there were at least 100 cows on the gravel road in the middle of
the night.
The judge concluded that I could have avoided the accident by
stopping for a coffee somewhere along the way, or coming to a
complete stop at the last intersection. (You gotta love those
tachographs). There was however no recommendation from the court to
the cows or the farmer on how they could have avoided the
situation…
Moving on…
Shortly after my short stint at butchering cattle I moved back
to Houston BC and hauled logs for a couple of seasons. During the
off season I hauled modular buildings out of Kamloops.
I moved to the coast in the early 90’s and ran the highway for a
while doing various things like hauling lumber with a super B, some
dry van work and hauling containers off the docks.
Christmas of 1993 found me back in Prince George logging with a
self loader. That’s where I met my future wife Katt. This summer we
will be celebrating a dozen years of marriage and we have a 10 year
old son Ryan. I did another stint hauling fuel and then in
1995 we moved to Fort St John.
I quickly found a driving position with Swanberg Brothers
Trucking, where I first met and worked with some of the most
extreme truckers that I have ever seen. From there I worked for
Transline pipeline for 2 years, hauling pipeline equipment. Then,
needing a bit of a break from driving, I secured a position with
Borek transportation running their trucker’s camp. I returned to
Transline for a short spell and then worked for a big oil company
doing supervision on rig moves. I really enjoyed that job but all
the work was out of town and Katt was at home so that soon came to
an end.
I came home and worked doing dispatch and lower end management
jobs for awhile. If anyone thinks a dispatcher’s job is easy they
should jump in his chair and try it for awhile. I’d much rather be
on the other side of the desk complaining about the dispatching
than doing it myself – it’s far from easy.
In 2005 I found myself in what I now refer to as my 100 days of
HELL. That’s when I agreed to look after a trucking camp out of
Fort Nelson for Streeper Contracting…now that was
entertainment!
One hundred and three straight days in camp is not something I
would recommend to anyone but we made the best of it, and tried to
keep the humour happening.
There were the Turbo freaks, the Newfs, the Scorpion King and a
wonderful young guy I nicknamed Woodstock. The Scorpion King got
his name from wrangling the oldest, biggest and ugliest bed trucks
that were ever built. The stories he would tell of his travels had
us all laughing so hard our stomachs would be in knots.
But I was getting up at 3, 4, 5 and 6am to wake up 30 plus
drivers. Sometimes I didn’t even go to bed just so I could make
sure they had their lunches packed and their swampers had
everything they needed to make it through the day. After a while I
started to feel like I was managing a daycare. About 25% of these
people didn’t need any help, they knew what had to be done and
they’d do it but the rest were another story. Many of the boys I
worked with that winter are on the Christmas card list and I’ll
never forget the time we spent together.
Well, by now, you’ve probably figured out I bore easily but I
came home from Fort Nelson a forty-something year old man that had
finally figured out what he wanted to do when he grew up. It took a
lot of convincing but I finally sold Katt on my idea and in
December of 2005 I bought my ‘99’ Star. The guy I bought it from
took such good care of her that she can outplay and outsmart some
of the newer rigs I associate with. My “Scarlett” has a 475 cat
pumped up to 550 hp, 18 speed 46000 diffs and a 30 ton Braiden
mechanical winch and she effortlessly pulls a 40 ton Gerry’s
scissor-neck low bed.
This is a bit off topic but I would recommend to any one who
wants to drive a winch truck to learn on a mechanical winch to get
the full drift of winching on loads, and then hydraulic winches
will come easy. This winter I’ve been up in Fort Nelson doing
freelance work hauling camp shacks, mud tanks, matting and light
plants on everything from flat winter ice roads to 15 to 20 %
grades. The scenery is breathtaking and the weather ever-changing.
Excitement involves 2 sets of triples and a steering chain to keep
her moving and nothing quite says “Yeehaw” like getting pulled up
the big hills and sometimes being let down those same hills by a
great big farm tractor, with an overweight farmer who chews way to
much Redman. This is extreme trucking boys…pay attention, and bring
an extra pair of undies!!!!
Like everyone, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to do what I
love without the help and understanding of many people. My Mom and
Dad who I’m sure questioned their decision to have children as they
tried to curb my eagerness to grow up. Others like Steve Piccolo
and my neighbour Bob Wilson who had a positive influence on me and
I also owe a dept of gratitude to people like Dean Reese, Al Mckay,
Larry Lawrence, Chris Harris, Gord Vandekamp, Bill Streeper, Trev
Ardron, Bob Wilson and The Scorpion King and his associates, who
believed in me enough to give me a chance to show them what I am
capable of.
But most of all, my wife Katt, who has supported me and stood by
me in a career that too often keeps us drivers away from home for
too long.
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