Picture the scene. It’s 6.30 on a cold March evening, I've just come off the M1 at junction 25. I'm heading into Derby on the A52, to deliver lab equipment to a food factory, which they told the office was urgently needed, though God knows why!
The bike is buzzing happily beneath me, everything is working great, the crisp air swishing past my helmet. I glance at the trip meter, it shows 860 miles that I have covered today. As much as I love riding motorcycles, the place I really want to be is home, The problem with that is that it's a two hour ride northwards and I’ve still to reach my drop off point in Derby, which will probably take the best part of an hour to find, then ten minutes to find someone to sign my docket. I've been on the go for 12 hours and I'm absolutely knackered, but again I won’t reach home until about 9.30-10.00 o'clock.
This is the typical DR scenario and I've just about had all the bullshit I can take that’s been written about despatching in the last few months. So, I thought, let’s cut out all the crap and try to give an honest account of the job and lay to rest a few myths as we go.
Now don’t get me wrong, first and foremost I have always had an affinity with motorcycles, having had one in my possession continuously over the past 12 years as my only form of transport. These machines have been of various makes and capacities, but mainly they have been Japanese, and have given me many hours of biking fun and experience.
However, after a year's despatching my biking enjoyment has waned considerably, no more do I eagerly rush to don my favourite bike jacket and lid, rush excitedly out to straddle my machine and blaze off into the distance. In fact, I give the thing the widest berth that I can manage. Having finished work on a Friday night the bike is locked away and I try to forget about it. Difficult, when you know that the oil and filter desperately need changing and cables need adjusting - these maintenance jobs will have to be done by you in your spare time over the now too short weekends, to save money on dealer servicing. It’s at times like these that you think, why do I do it? And start thinking about all the other jobs you could be doing, then you remember the money you‘re making is infinitely better than you get from the SS every fortnight.
If I was asked what I thought of despatching I would honestly have to say it's one of the worst jobs around, in the top five with shit tester at a sewage works and test rider of Superdreams. Well, if you budding DRs aren’t put off, the diatribe (or should that be diarrhoea) will continue...
The only reason I got into despatching was due to a particularly long stretch of unemployment, and the only way I could think of getting off the dole was to go self employed at something, as other jobs (as you might have heard) in the North East are difficult to come by. A hasty look into window cleaning, market stall holding and other avenues came to nothing. Then whilst browsing through the arse end of MCN I saw the DRs wanted column. I wonder how many fellow motorcyclists have been catapulted into DR’ing in a similar fashion?
Of course, they were all for London, and I was a 60 mile commute from the major cities up here, but that didn’t put me off. The bank manager was surprisingly amenable to lending me a couple of thousand to buy a bike, although he needed proof of a job offer and insisted on life insurance as well as bike insurance (Bennetts of Coventry do a specific policy for DRs). The aforementioned insurance comes in handy, especially when you're zooming along the M18, happen to glance around and note that the package you so meticulously bungeed into place has done a Paul Daniels and pissed off to who knows where.
You will also be given a dubious document to sign by the DR company telling you that you are advised to see to your own income tax and national insurance contributions (remember you're self employed) and other rules and regulations, and that you will not undertake any other work for rival companies, etc.
Bike choice is obviously important and can make or break the whole venture. After considerable thought and experience I've come to the conclusion that a twin (for low maintenance costs) of 500-550cc capacity (for low running costs) with shaft drive (for obvious reasons) is ideal for a mixture of town and long run work. Any smaller causes suffering on the motorway, any bigger means huge expense with regards to consumables, so these limits in machinery should be adhered to as closely as possible.
The rates of pay in the North East and North Yorkshire fall way below that of London, and unless you know your way around the city in which you're based then you’ll be lucky to make a hundred quid a week for the first month. After you've bought a decent bike, bike gear, insurance, throw-overs or rigid panniers, you’ll be lucky to have enough left over after paying off the loan to meet the running costs at the start.
I didn’t take this into account when I started, although my wife did (there is a lesson there, listen to wives, they're always right). From my home to work was roughly 58 miles there (about a gallon of petrol) and the same back, five days a week. That's nearly 600 miles a week (I must be flaming mental) before I even earnt anything (which cost about £20).
I was subbing right, left and centre from the boss. Luckily, the first week I knew most of the routes well and did OK. For town work it was £1 a drop, usually in batches of three, at all other times it was around 35p per mile going, and if you're running empty on the way back, tough shit. Although whenever possible I did tout for business from other firms that wanted stuff bringing northwards when I'd been sent to London or Slough.
To give you some idea what you'd get, say York to Leeds, roughly 21 miles, equates to around £7.35. York to London (200 miles) worked out at £70. However, only the keenest of riders get the best runs, those who turn up late or give the boss a lot of shit are left out in he cold a lot.
It is advisable to carry balls of string and loads of bungee cords, as you never know what you will be asked to carry. I remember being asked to do a job from Newcastle to Selby, carrying a bearing for a machine in a mine, when I picked this up, to my horror, it weighed roughly six stones and was about two feet in diameter. No way would it fit into my panniers so it was strapped into place behind me. The seat padding disappeared to nothing and the parcel had cut big chunks out of my leathers and backside.
I would also go for GRP panniers, as throw-overs, although good, will disintegrate before your eyes after three or four months. Road grime, oil, water, dog piss and other pollutants all take their toll. It’s also a good idea to fit a rear carrier as this helps with large items.
I would not recommend a top box because the handling deteriorates, they look bloody silly and I have never liked them! Being in city traffic all day, five days a week is trying and stressful. I guarantee a tumble is on the cards. This usually happens on a Tuesday morning when you're still half asleep and giving the bike just too much throttle, exiting a junction has the back end step out and you falling heavily on to the road. If you're not wearing good gear, instead of picking yourself up, rescuing your machine and carrying on your way, you‘re down to casualty with a dose of salt and blistered arse. Be warned, buy some decent leathers, boots and gloves.
Most of the deliveries are mundane paper work, a lot of insurance documents, passports, artwork, photographic equipment, false teeth, legal docs and more. Dreadfully boring really. City work entails getting lost a lot (wasting time, money and petrol) and much bantering with base on the radio (rented at £5 to £10 a week). The radio is hung on your chest in front of the bib (compulsory wear, emblazoned as it is with the company name) - if by some unfortunate accident you drop the hand held bit of high tech, walk the other way and plead innocence, as they are expensive to repair or replace, or just sneak it back into the office and nick someone else's!
With northern dialect being strong, as the editor will know (Eh? I come from Cardiff - Ed), living in Welsh Wales, speech that is not northern dialect, the phonetic code, is used quite a lot just to be understood. You know the kind of thing, the cops use it - Alpha, Bravo, Charlie (you’ll feel a right prat at first talking into the silly thing in the middle of a busy shopping precinct, with people thinking you're completely off your trolley, looking as you do like a bloody Martian with all your gear on), Delta, Echo, etc. Still, if you do decide to work up here it would be worth learning and it does come in handy from time to time.
Wear and tear on the bike is amazing. Since starting this job I have nightmares about the amounts of tyres, chains, oil and cables that get rapidly worn out. Tyres can be absolutely blitzed in five or six weeks along with chains. Oil I religiously change every thousand miles - this can be every two or three days, so we're talking big miles here. The good thing about all these items is that they can be set against the dreaded income tax, as can motorcycle gear, petrol, etc, but it still has to be budgeted for in the first instance.
Remember then, that even if you enjoy, no, absolutely adore bikes, this is not the most pleasant job in the world as some people would have you believe. Riding in all weathers, for long periods, when you think the day has ended, the clock in the office says it's time to go but the phone goes and a job for some place you’ve never heard of comes in - as the sole survivor of the day in the office off you go, it's up to you to get the parcel there.
It is at times like this when your hands and wrists are aching from thousands of clutch and brake operations that have taken place over the past eight hours, not to mention your lower back, thighs and bum that you start to question your mental state.
If you do manage to work for a decent firm, it's possible to make a reasonable living, which these days is no mean feat in itself, but after a year of this wiping politicians' arses is looking more and more like the career move of a lifetime!
Beeza