I was in the cab of a scouse lorry driver once who, as we neared my drop-off point outside Coventry, tried to persuade me to come to Liverpool with him for a 'game of pool'. I was happy to escape that one.
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:hehe: Sometimes they'd just talk. For hours. So starved of human company for days and days away from home, they'd just prattle on and on and on. This was not good for me, for trade plate drivers, unencumbered by tachographs and such silliness, will happily drive 20 hours a day, and the cab of a lorry is a great opportunity to grab the healing snooze. A dour Yorkshireman shouting about his sexual adventures on a recent nightstop outside Barnsley isn't that relaxing.
You see, when you put it like that, I'd seriously consider taking that up.
Solitary? What could be finer?
Mind-numbing? Yes, please.
Bad food? You mean 'fried food', don't you?
Speed? No call for it now with compulsory rest periods.
Porn and skanky hookers? We all enjoy the occasional baser moment.