His tattoos swirled from the sleeves of his white teeshirt down his brown
muscular arms. He looked tired and drawn as he leaned against the wall,
listening to the foreman describing the next job. I knew he was an experienced and reliable
driver. I had never been on a trip with him — he usually worked alone –
and it wasn’t going to be easy, judging by the surly way in which he had
greeted the announcement that from now on he was to have an assistant.
Without speaking Pete nodded curtly to the foreman and swung himself up
into the cab. I walked round the front of the huge gleaming lorry and
climbed into the passenger seat. The lights around the yard glinted in oily
puddles, but the sun was beginning to break through the early morning mist.
He pressed the starter; the engine roared into life, and the lorry slowly
moved out of the yard into the dreary length of Commercial Road.