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Working-an autobiography from 1971-

My working life in a wide variety of occupations.
Expanded stories of some notable places of employment as well as a general overview of life's flow.

Note-Chapters are posted in reverse order,so scroll to the earliest to read in order.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Life in The West Kootenays
















I arrived at the old Petro-Canada garage one afternoon in June 1993 to meet Mr. Dorey for an interview.
The old gentleman was in his late 70s and was gnome-like the way he stood bent to one side due to a replaced hip.
He had thick snow white hair combed back and a well tanned complexion with bright blue eyes.
Talking in a very self-important manner he explained the duties were to man the pumps from 2-10 p.m. Monday to Friday, assist the mechanic wherever possible and carry out duties related to the Greyhound Bus depot.
The buses stopped four times daily- 2 in the early morning, one around 4 p.m. and another around 9.
They were to be fuelled, washed and have their chemical toilets dumped and refilled as well as garbage collected from inside.
They also had to have their engines checked for fluid levels and any burnt out lights replaced.
The other depot duties were to ship and receive parcels and sell tickets which took quite a bit of training.
Larger depots were given computers to figure out the routing for tickets and costs while we had to look at a book, or call Calgary headquarters for assistance.
I was glad to learn the job was varied, having a few challenges and was hired to begin the following day after coming back later the same day to observe the bus servicing.
Little did I know that once again I had joined up with a group of very interesting characters that made the next 6 years far from boring.(An in depth study of this time will be featured in "Marathon Mayhem", a future story).
I enjoyed learning the routine and becoming a part of the family and gained the trust of my co workers and the many regular customers I came to know.
Mr. Dorey's son Jim worked the day shift and came in several times during the evenings to hang out or work on his vehicles and was a very interesting and well educated fellow in his early forties who was struggling with a mental disability that made it difficult for him to work a regular job as he was often overcome with fatigue due to the medications he was on.
Mr Dorey had raised 8 kids and put all of them through university on the earnings of the garage that had been a very bustling enterprise for nearly fifty years.

The shift suited me perfectly as I had time to work around at home before work, yet was home early enough to enjoy evening leisure time as well.
The garage was only an easy 15 minute walk for me too through the flat town.
We enjoyed the atmosphere of the village of about 1000 and beauty of the surrounding mountains and began to settle in.
(photo shows Hwy 6 through Salmo. Garage located just past building with green roof)I soon settled into the routine and became familiar with the many regular customers, many of whom had charge accounts for their various businesses that included logging and mining companies. The various customers had varying daily requirements as to which fuels they used, containers for chainsaw gas and oil of certain mix ratios and soon had them memorized to their appreciation.They merely had to drive up to the pumps and say "Hi" and go inside to relax while I attended to their needs. I took pride in becoming one of the trusted attendants that they requested upon arrival-"I want John to do it".The rest of the crew consisted of  mainly high school kids who worked part time after school  and weekends. Most of them didn't work often enough to memorize the many aspects of the operation, nor did they care to go the "extra mile".
The bus servicing was similar to a pit stop as we anticipated their arrival we set up the equipment by the separate diesel pumps,opened the sani-dump grating and listened for the sound of the GM engine's distinctive sound as it approached and wheeled onto the lot through the back alley. The bus was guided over the dump grate to line up its pipe that carried the toilets' contents when a handle was pulled. Many rookies flubbed this and it was not uncommon to see them dump the mess onto the concrete and have to hose it down later. In winter it made for a frozen,stinking situation. Meanwhile Mr Dorey would hold court in the office listening to news and telling stories while the drivers waited for us to service their buses.One fellow did the dumping,washed the bus and handled the fuel while the other went inside,collected garbage and poured a small bottle of concentrated liquid into the toilet which kept it relatively fresh-smelling. The buses sometimes took on 600 litres of fuel which added up extra      earnings over the day.
It was fun to carry out the servicing as fast as possible, especially when there were "tag teams" of several buses lined up at once during peak seasons.I soon knew the drivers by name and enjoyed carrying on conversations with them on their regular runs through Salmo. Salmo being the mid point between Vancouver and Calgary had become the fuelling point some 20 years previously and Mr. Dorey took great pride in keeping them happy.
Other regular customers included the members of the town's 4 member RCMP detachment as well as Highway patrol members who stopped in when passing through on patrol.In the early evenings after the traffic died down it was usual to have several hours of quiet which Mr. Dorey employed to sit and tell me many interesting stories of his many years in the area where he worked in various jobs from dairy owner to underground miner.He had owned the garage business for nearly fifty years when I hired on and had an inexhaustible number of tales to recount.I soon had many new friends through my co workers and socialzed with some of them  over the years.
Once I was on steady we began looking for a house to buy. We employed a local real estate agent and character named Jack Hipwell "Hack Gypwell" who took us around to several houses in our limited price range. Not finding anything suitable we had to expand our search area to include the village of Fruitvale located about 17 miles west, a drive of 20 minutes.                                                              
After a few more disappointing prospects we settled for an older mobile home with additions within the  village limits on a large lot. The price was right and we settled in and remained there for the next seventeen years.        
The following summer Mr. Dorey decided a female crew would be a welcome addition and in a matter of a few weeks I had six lovely teen aged girls to work with ranging from 12 to 19 years of age. Many of   them remained on staff for several years and were very efficient and dedicated workers who I had great affection for. They often confided in me and also had me work on their cars for them.I became very  protective of them and often stepped in when men flirted with them which was a frequent                   occurrence.When I later became an auxiliary RCMP member I sometimes threatened to bodily throw these guys off the lot which amused Mr. Dorey who "took guff from no man". One of the perks of having the Mounties behind me meant there was often a patrol car parked on the lot as one of the boys visited during the many quiet hours they endured.One of my co workers was also an auxiliary member and had been instrumental in recruiting me. Mr. Dorey was a bit of a renegade and disapproved of the police and called us "Stooges".Three nights each week after work we would go over to the high school where we had a key to use the weight room. usually whichever Mountie was on duty met us there to join in for a good workout. One of them was an ERT member who was in top shape and trained us hard.I was soon in pretty good shape and able  to bench press weights that surprised                                            me.                                                                                                                                                            

                                                                                                                                                                        During the years I was at the garage we went from Petro Canada to independent to Thrift Gas as Mr. D battled with the gas companies who he was sure were nothing but gangsters.Thrifty seemed the best of the bunch as it was a small operation with its own refinery located in Red Deer.                                
The president of the company made frequent visits  and even sent his rep to help with repairs to the        pumps which was very rare old-fashioned service in the industry.                                                         
The winters in Salmo are legendary for the snow and cold conditions  they regularly produce and gave
us quite a challenge every year. Once the snow began, Mr. D. would put the blade onto his 1954
Dodge Power Wagon wrecker he'd owned since  nearly new.  The truck was all     business and was completely original down to its military surplus tires. It was 

not very pleasant to drive with weak brakes and low gear ratio making speeds  
over 50 mph impossible, but plowing the lot it was well-suited to with its heavy
weight and bull low power it pushed like a dozer!                                              
The old boy had originally bought the truck as a surplus mine pickup  used at the
Canex mine near Salmo and had a wrecker body attached. It had a pto winch mounted to the front which the home made plow blade was operated with.
During winters, Mr. D. was out plowing before dawn and continued throughout the day pausing for short naps. Once I came on shift I filled in for a few passes as did Jim, but few others were trusted with the wrecker.                                        
Some of the challenges included trying to get the buses serviced without freezing the hoses. We developed a method of storing the hose in the furnace room atop the boiler and when the bus was due we rushed it out, hooked it up and ran a trickle of water through to keep it free. When the bus arrived we had a propane torch ready to thaw the sani dump pipe which was tricky as the pipes were pvc and one had to apply the right         amount of heat not to melt it. I remember many days in the dead of winter at well below -30C out in the wind relatively warm dressed in my army surplus "Extreme cold weather" parka.                                

Fuelling vehicles was not pleasant with the ice cold pump handles to deal with and the rare occasion when the pumps themselves froze up.                                      
    There were usually many quiet hours working the winter evenings. I spent the         time playing cards with whichever girl was working, or helped her with any           homework I was capable of being any use with.                                                  
The old boy loved adversity and jumped into action any time things went              pear-shaped. Yelling orders he commanded us in our duties or from his Ford        aerostar van would lay on the horn until whatever action was required was tended to.                                                                                                                               The aerostar was his version of a motor home in the hours he spent in it                   daily,sleeping or cruising Salmo. Several times each week he made the journey to the bank in Nelson, leaving at about 3 in the afternoon and usually returning within the hour. The usual time to get to Nelson was nearly half an hour, so he must have been flying as was his custom. In fact he was a well known terror around town due to the wild driving and at his advanced age, his inattention     towards other drivers.                                                                                                                             
Many times he would push snow across Highway 6 in front of the garage narrowly missing oncoming cars and trucks to the tune of loud honking of horns.                                                                             
 The garage was the real hub of the town and the regulars shared news and gossip freely and followed the old boy's exploits with great humour.                            
The business struggled along and was not profitable due to Mr. D's stubborn         refusal to modernize the shop or means of operation and began running into serious financial troubles over the last few years I worked there.                                                                                                                          
The rumour around town had always been that the old boy was very rich, as he often carried large           quantities of cash and I remember several occasions where a logger or other regular came in asking if he could cash a $2,000.00 cheque. Without blinking Mr. D. would produce enough cash from his pocket to cover it.                                                                                                                                                      
The truth was the business was so shaky that the family home was mortgaged against it and the bank had cut off any further funding.                                                                                                              
In 1999, the final year, the old boys' health was failing and he was diagnosed with colon cancer that      soon spread to his lungs. He would now sit huddled in a corner of the office wrapped in a blanket             looking like Sitting Bull until he was finally hospitalized in May of that year.                                          
I visited him on his request in the hospital in Nelson where he was still determined to beat the cancer and return to duty.                                                                                                                                     
Soon after he passed away and the pioneer was gone at 82.                                                                                                                                                
I had been offered two jobs at local sawmills in the interim, but felt a sense of loyalty to go down with the ship. Now that he was actually gone I felt free to move on as Jim tried to bail the business out and was turned down time and again. My next chapter would soon begin.                                                  

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