This is an account I have written about my early '70s rock band (which will be in a 'book' that I'm putting together for my two grandchildren), and a return from a gig that really, we should have all been killed. How the van never crashed on that first leg of the return journey, I'll never know.
'...During the first year with Splinter we experienced the most nightmare journey ever, on 25th July 1970. We got a gig at Kendal RUFC, in Westmoreland. The trip to the venue was uneventful. We did our scheduled times, one 30-minute spot and two 45-minutes, for a fee of £20. At the end of the night we got the gear outside only to find our driver, Derek, sitting in a Police car blowing into a breathalyser! It showed positive, and he was hauled off to the Police station. Apparently, he had been driving his van around Kendal sounding his van horn, and the Police latched on to him. Liam got permission from the Police to drive the van to the Police Station to wait for Derek. We finally got away from the Police Station at 1:30 in the morning. The mate Derek had along with him took over the responsibility of driving the van. Derek’s mate, Ken, was also the worse for wear, and the drive through the Cumbrian countryside was a nightmare for the band, with Ken driving at breakneck speed along single carriageway twisting country roads. I honestly thought we were all going to be killed. For a long stretch of the drive there was a steep drop down to the left, and on several occasions the left wing mirror hit trees, until it was finally demolished. Despite threats from us all, Ken continued to drive like a lunatic. Eventually the van ran out of petrol, as luck would have it, in a small village called Caton on the A683 road east of Lancaster. Peter Cribley dragged Ken backwards by grabbing him by his hair, while removing the ignition keys from the dashboard. Cribley told Ken he wasn’t going to drive the van another yard, opened the door, and threw him out. Peter Hall kept Derek in check… The two Peters were all for simply taking the two of them and beating the [Poor language removed] out of them, but common sense prevailed, and everyone got out and Liam and Steve headed for the phone box in the village and the Police were called on 999. The van was then pushed into a pub car park so it would not obstruct the road. A single Policeman eventually arrived, and after everyone had had their say, the wisdom of Solomon prevailed with the Policeman’s suggestion that they take Derek and his mate to get petrol (there was a petrol can in the van) while we remained at the van. They returned with petrol and the tank was replenished. As Liam could drive, it was agreed that he would drive the van until we reached a service station on the M6 southwards. Steve was talking to Liam all the time he was driving so he wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel. By this time it was about four o’clock in the morning. The Policeman guided us to the M6 motorway, and once on it, we pulled into the first available service station on the M6. The tank was filled up, and as Derek by this time had sobered up, he took over the driving again. The rest of the journey passed off uneventfully, Pete Cribley being dropped off first, then Ken, then Steve, then Peter Hall, with me being the last to be dropped off around 6 o’clock in the morning. I finally got to bed at about half past six. An experience none of us will ever forget…'
