[Energumen]

Oh alright then, ha ha.

Let me start with the 'Queen Marys', if they had a fault, it was with brake fade after prolonged heavy use, such as was often inflicted on them by heavy footed drivers on the Brighton to Eastbourne Run, which tended to be very well loaded and had a couple of nasty hills at East Dean and Eastbourne end. This could mean driving one of these on the return journey, one would do so with due anticipation and care, having got the conductor to phone ahead, for a changeover spare to be put on the stand at Old Steine, to complete the Brighton end of the journey and continue the duty.

Good ere innit.

Where was I?, oh I know, so this day I am in for a bit of overtime and covering a 'Standing Spare' duty, If Jack was in a good mood, this entailed playing billiards or darts or something at the social club until called upon to do something. So Jack phones across for a spare bus to be collected from Edward Street garage and put on the stand at Old Steine to replace a No.12 road Queen Mary, which was due in at whatever time.

I duly reported to Edward Street and was allocated one of the Guys (see Billboy's picture in the Gallery), it could well have been the very one. I carried out quick checks and away I went, out into Grand Parade to make for Old Steine about a third of a mile distance I suppose. Now, well, it's like this, I had driven mobile plant, Albion All terrain 10 tonners, BK Lorry Mounted Diggers, Thorncroft Coles (ex RAF), Commer 3 Tonner and the likes all with no syncromesh. Suddenly the cocky little 'this ones ready', was totally unprepared, suffice to say, try as I might, the nearest I came to getting above second gear, was repeated imitations of an inordinately large Lion with a terribly sore throat. I am sure the whole of the bus Driving fraternity in Brighton must have heard and if not they should have, yes, how are the mighty fallen indeed.

But I parked on the through stand at Old Steine and walked down to the staff room at Pool Valley for a cuppa whilst I awaited the brakeless QM to arrive. Being stunned by my own ineptitude, I announced to the gallery of Drivers, how I had met my match and been beaten by it. Oh Dear, that started it.

"Huh, Mans buses the guys'', " they sort out the men from the boys", " Come back when you've got your knees brown Son", and so forth and so on, all richly deserved I am sure.

Then an old driver who was on the point of retiring, called me quietly aside and said " don't listen to the loud mouthed Jackasses, there is not one of them changes cleanly on the guys, unless by accident and on asking for and being given my word that I would never pass it on to the know alls, who proffessed to be experts, he explained how to go up and down the box, in near silence, if you discount the noisy Gardner revving up.

So the bus was swapped over, I took the QM back to Edward Street and hosed the brake drums until they stopped creating clouds of steam in the garage, and once again were within contact range of the brake shoes.

The secret of the gear changes was, another story for another day.

Energumen