Why Brits like me have abandoned trucking

I became a trucker by default. It was the 1980s and I was working three jobs just to pay the mortgage and keep my family going. I was a milkman, a taxi driver and a barman and I was tired and bored. We were living in a town with a ferry link to France and so at the evenings in the pub I got to know the truckers who drove back and forward from the Continent. I’d listen to their stories and think what fun it sounded. I saved up, passed my test, bought an old DAF tractor unit, hired a trailer and began my life on the road.

Back then, it was just as weird and fun as I imagined it would be. On my very first trip, I met a one-legged prostitute who worked the service area at Auxerre and a Scottish driver who introduced me to the Congolese cocktail lumumba (brandy and chocolate milk). I reloaded with oranges from Valencia and was promised a healthy bonus for delivery within 36 hours, which I easily accomplished. I got paid and started again. I loved every minute.

I’ve known HGV drivers who were gassed like badgers in the night, and thrown into a ditch by criminals who steal trucks to order

Progressively, though, the sense of adventure left the job. The days of Smokey and the Bandit, CB pseudonyms, wallets on chains, camaraderie, red diesel and mirror sunglasses gave way to a joyless efficiency. What had been a band of happy, freedom-loving truckers became a giant web of just-in-time delivery vehicles circulating throughout Europe, keeping the factories, assembly plants and food stores stocked.

If you’re looking to explain the shortage of HGV drivers in this country, and across many others in Europe, one significant reason is simply that the job is both less lucrative and less fun.