Lever and latch for dirt to dispatch, bell cranks that rang while the gears all sang, with brake bands that squealed as the ropes outward reeled.
Digger watching was a national pastime. Surely one of the cleverest machines ever invented, crammed with mechanisms: lever and latch for dirt to dispatch, bell cranks that rang while the gears all sang, with brake bands that squealed as the ropes outward reeled. The poetry of it was enough to turn any young engineer’s head.
The star was the Ruston Bucyrus 10-RB, with its continental-style box cab, grading roads with a skimmer scoop. The best part was the dump: the driver pulled a rope, the floor of the box swung open and the rubble dropped into the lorry. Then, with a final flourish, he let the bucket run free down the arm and braked hard, and the floor snapped shut into its latch with a satisfying little clunk. We watched it time after time, mesmerised.
Many of the drivers were ex-servicemen, glad to have survived and home to build a new country. I made friends with a lot of them, and I was privileged to know them.
So follow me round a few sites, then off to Swansea High Street station and the steam train to Lincoln, and the cathedral-high machine shops of Ruston Bucyrus. It’s the 1960s; rock and roll, Beatlemania and all that. Bring some spanners.
