DZ Rider.

There is no doubt that one of my dumbest and stupidest life's moments happened back in the early 80's while I was working in the ice cream business. I was involved in a very minor accident while driving my Canada Packers ice cream truck.

But first, let me give you a brief history.

York Ice Cream was just one division of Canada Packers. Canada Packers owned and operated a massive fleet of transport trucks right across Canada. Canada Packers also had employees who were authorized by the MTO (Ministry of Transportation in Ontario) to perform road tests. If a driver showed he was indeed capable a MTO authorized employee could also issue an AZ or DZ truck license. Since literally hundreds of drivers were hired to operate their fleet of trucks, time was of the essence when new hires needed to get a truck license.

It was a lot easier than a driver having to go through the time consuming usual process of obtaining a truck license. Most large corporations with large fleets would have their own MTO trained employees. They were authorized to perform a road test once the driver had completed and passed the written test. A driver’s written and vision test would be completed at an MTO testing site where the road tests were backlogged for weeks and sometimes even months. Drivers would also need to supply the appropriate vehicle for whatever license they were testing for.

Canada Packers having an employee able to perform road tests in a company truck just made the whole process a lot quicker and much more efficient.

When I first started the job back in August of 1981, I had only gotten my driver’s license not even two years earlier. I was very skeptical at first about even driving a truck, but the potential money I could earn quickly outweighed all of my skepticism. I already had a few weeks of daily training under my belt, but I always had to have another driver with a DZ license with me in the truck. It just became too costly paying two drivers going out daily while doing a single driver's route.

I now needed to get my own DZ license.

My supervisors were all quite confident that I would be getting my DZ license on my first attempt. For sure they were much more confident than I was. I was not as optimistic since I had failed my first road test after not stopping at a stop sign. I then had to wait a couple weeks before I finally got my driver’s license on my second attempt. I had already completed both my required medical and vision test; I also passed the written test. Now all that was needed was for me to pass the most crucial test, the road test.

If I recall my road test was scheduled on a Friday afternoon at the same Canada Packers plant on St Clair Avenue where I had been hired just over a month earlier. My boss was pretty sure that I would be passing because the following week he had me scheduled doing the route all by myself. The driver with the DZ license who had been with me while I was training was scheduled to be doing a route for another driver who was on vacation.

Monday morning I would be on my own and the pressure was now on for me to pass.

A couple days previous to my road test I was casually approached by my boss who wanted to give me a heads up regarding my upcoming road test. He told me that the gentleman I needed to see was simply known as Dutchie. Dutchie would be working his usual shift on the loading dock and he was expecting me mid-afternoon. He would be taking me out on the truck for my road test and if everything went to plan, I would be coming back with my own valid DZ license. 

The valid DZ license that I needed if I'd be doing my own route the following week.

It was also suggested by my boss that I pick up a box of quality cigars. I forget the brand, but they were very pricey. I also needed to have a couple cartons of rum n’ raisin ice cream on the truck for when I arrived. Apparently, Dutchie loved cigars and rum n’ raisin ice cream which I thought made for a pretty odd combo.

Friday afternoon arrived; my co-worker and I were already doing a route in the area of Canada Packers. It was very convenient and we arrived right on time. We walked in the receiving door where we were told Dutchie would be working and he was there waiting for us. Dutchie was an older portly fellow who looked like he had eaten plenty of rum n’ raisin ice cream over the course of his life. 

We exchanged greetings and pleasantries; I presented Dutchie with the box of cigars I had purchased.

“I heard you like cigars.” as I handed him the box.

“Yes, I do. Thank you very much.” Dutchie said with a big smile on his face.

“My boss says hello and he sent me down with some rum n’ raisin ice cream for you,” I added.

“I love rum n’ raisin, tell your boss thank you,” Dutchie told me.

“Ok let’s get you a license.” He said as the two of us walked out the door and headed over to the truck.

I performed a routine circle check before we got up into the cab. I started up the truck and headed out onto St. Clair Avenue where I drove for about ten minutes. Dutchie then instructed me to head back to the yard and back the truck into one of the empty loading docks. I did exactly what he had asked and I shut the truck off.

“Congratulations, you passed,” Dutchie said as he handed me a form with lots of checked-off boxes and his signature.

“Carry this with you in the truck, it is your temporary license until you get the proper one in the mail.” Dutchie got out of the truck and went back to work on the loading dock.

I never saw him again.

It had only taken fifteen minutes; I now was a valid DZ licensed driver. I was proud of myself that I passed on my first attempt and I felt I had done everything right on my road test. Although, I couldn’t help but think maybe that box of cigars had something to do with me passing. It didn’t matter now; I was looking forward to starting my own route as a driver’s salesman. I was also looking forward to much larger commissions on my upcoming paycheques. I was the sixth driver salesman hired at York Ice Cream. York was the little guy on the block and for the most part, we serviced the small mom and pop convenience stores. 

To get those accounts York would agree to put a brand new six-foot cabinet display freezer into the store. The catch was that the owners needed to keep the freezer full with all of our ice cream products. The driver’s job was to rotate merchandise and keep the freezer topped up on his weekly visits. The more ice cream a driver put into the freezer the more commission he would earn. Needless to say, those freezers were always chalked full.

At least in my accounts they were.

The biggest account York had back then was Knob Hill Farms. There were only five Knob Hill Farms stores when I started. They were massive stores and were quite different from your typical supermarket. The other five drivers all earned a lot more in commission than I did since they each had a Knob Hill store on their routes. Since I was the new guy I would have to wait for another store to open before I would be earning the higher commissions that they were all paid.

I was a good six months into the job when one day after I finished my route I was called into the office by my boss. One of the other drivers had just been fired. He had been pulled over for speeding that day in his truck by the cops while doing his route. As it turned out, his license had been suspended for a year after too many unpaid fines and speeding infractions. The company never knew. He had been a good employee, but he was now useless to them without a valid license.

My boss told me I would now be inheriting his Knob Hill Farms store on Lansdowne Avenue. It was the second largest Knob Hill store and it would mean much more work for me, but I would now be compensated with much bigger paycheques. Because of his stupidity the driver who got fired had basically doubled my income overnight.

Thank you very much Peter.

While I am on the topic of stupidity, I too had my share of stupid moments. One of my more memorable stupid moments began on a Monday morning back in the summer of 1982. I had not yet even completed my first full year as a driver salesman. Mondays were by far my busiest day, especially in the summer and I would spend the complete day at my Knob Hill Farms store on Lansdowne Ave. I usually arrived at the York Farms yard near Leslie Street and Sheppard Avenue around 6 am to start my day.

Every Monday morning my truck would already be loaded right to the back doors. I would begin my 20 km journey to the southwest corner of Lansdowne Ave and Dundas Street. On this particular Monday my load was loaded on the spare tandem truck which was a bit longer than my usual truck. I just assumed that my regular truck was in for service since it wasn’t even in the yard that morning when I arrived.

As I left the yard I approached my first red light at Sheppard Avenue on a bit of a downslope. It wasn’t a hill, but a gradual slope down to the street where I would be making a right turn. I knew right away that something was seriously wrong. Although the air pressure was at maximum, I barely got the truck stopped. I just assumed that my load was too heavy and I that I would need to take it very easy. I would need to give myself much more stopping distance until I got the heavy load off the truck.

I turned right.

Within five minutes I was heading westbound on Canada’s busiest highway. Hwy 401 is always congested during morning and afternoon rush hour which on this morning was a good thing since I knew my brakes were bad. I was quite happy not to drive at highway speeds on that morning. I kept a much further distance behind vehicles and gave myself much more stopping distance at traffic lights and stop signs. However I knew if I had to stop in an emergency, I most likely would not have been able to safely stop in time.

Later that day I would have the truck checked once I got back to the yard by one of our mechanics. But for now I just needed to get to Knob Hill and get the truckload of ice cream off the truck and into the store. On most Mondays I would not leave the store until after 4 pm as I would be merchandising and restocking the near empty freezers all day. Mondays were easily a twelve hour day by the time I would get back to the yard and during the summer months I would head back home around 6 pm if I was lucky.

It was just after 7 am, I was less than 2 km from my destination. As I approached a red light where I would be making my final left turn onto Lansdowne Ave, I couldn’t stop the truck. I rolled into a small Toyota from behind also waiting to make the left turn. The car was a rusted out, older model shit box. The driver who was around my age got out to survey the damage. There wasn’t any damage at all to his car not even a cracked or broken taillight, but his trunk would not open. He blamed it on me hitting him and insisted we call the police.

Seriously?

He walked up to a nearby house knocked on the door and asked if he could use their phone to call the cops. Within five minutes a cruiser arrived and after explaining what had happened we moved our vehicles off to the side of the road so the traffic could flow again. The accident was no doubt 100% my fault, I told the cop that my brakes had failed. We both sat in the back of the cruiser while the cop took our statements and filled out his report.

Within minutes the utmost in stupidity would be on full display in the back of that police car. It seems Buddy, the other driver who I had bumped into and who had insisted on calling the cops had no driver’s license. He had lost his license for driving drunk and was now going nowhere that morning except to the police station. He was charged for driving without a license.

What a fuck’n idiot he was.

The cop now focused on my side of the story and asked me when I noticed my brakes were bad. The correct answer would have been that they were working fine and my brakes failed the moment I tried to stop the truck before bumping into Buddy, the idiot who was now sitting beside me.

“I noticed the brakes were bad when I left the yard this morning.” I blurted out.

I kid you not and I still can’t believe I actually said that to a police officer. The officer had to have looked into his rearview mirror only to see 'dumb and dumber' sitting in the backseat. I guarantee he will never forget the day he had us two clowns sitting in the back of his cruiser. Like me, Buddy too was sitting beside a fuck’n idiot.

That would be me.

I was now charged with the serious charge of careless driving as well as driving an unsafe vehicle. I could potentially lose my job, I thought to myself. I too was also going nowhere on that Monday morning. The cop was having a heavy tow sent down to pick up my fully loaded truck. It would be towed back to the police compound where the police mechanics would be inspecting the brakes.

I didn’t understand why the police would be inspecting the brakes, but it actually was to my advantage. The officer told me that if indeed my brakes were bad the careless driving charge would be dropped. I would only have the less serious charge of driving an unsafe vehicle. If the brakes were good then the unsafe vehicle charge gets dropped and I have to deal with the careless driving charge which could potentially cost me my job.

Either way, I was getting charged. Buddy, who had much more on his plate to deal with would also be having his car towed and impounded at his own expense.

I called my supervisor and explained what happened. Although, I did not tell him I had told a cop I drove 18 km in rush hour traffic with faulty brakes. My supervisor met me at the police compound where we offloaded the ice cream onto another truck. By the time we had the other truck loaded the mechanics had determined that my brakes were indeed faulty.

The careless driving charge was dropped.

The company had to have another heavy tow sent down to pick up the truck and new brakes would be installed at our garage that night. I continued on with my supervisor to complete my day and fill up the Lansdowne store and it was well after 10 pm before I got back home on that Monday.

A few months later I had to go to court for the unsafe vehicle charge; I pleaded guilty and I was fined fifty bucks. Looking back I regret my decisions on that day. My stupidity could have potentially gotten someone killed. I should have taken the truck off the road immediately at the first traffic stop when I left the yard that morning. I learned a very valuable lesson that day and I was very lucky it only ended up costing me just fifty bucks.

I drove an ice cream truck for over two decades in the city of Toronto and with the exception of dozens of parking tickets I never was charged with a traffic offence again.

And yes, I do think those cigars helped Dutchie make the right decision.