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<p>[QUOTE=&quot;superc, post: 1726698, member: 44079&quot;]No not like you mean by &#039;fall off.&#039;&nbsp; At least not any truck I was on.&nbsp; What I did see unfortunately more than once was scrape marks on the truck walls.&nbsp; If we had a lot of bullion to deliver, it was often on skids.&nbsp; There was no such thing as shrink wrap in those days, so what we had was a few straps, sometimes with a cargo blanket underneath.&nbsp; This was a good system, IF the truck didn&#039;t hit a pothole or get sideswiped by some car.&nbsp; The issue for me was I was riding in the same cargo compartment of the truck with my little Ithca or Remington 12 gauge.&nbsp; Yes there was a little folding jump seat like you used to see the stewardess use on planes.&nbsp; More than once there was no room to unfold it.&nbsp; So when we hit the bump, if the angle was correct, I was ducking dodging.&nbsp; Very early in the game it was learned, when a flying 400 oz bar bent the barrel, that the shotgun was best laid flat somewhere and not angled in a somewhat erect position.&nbsp; NYC law at that time required the gun be kept inside a sheath or a scabbard since it had shells in it and it was in a vehicle.&nbsp; Whatever.&nbsp; Anyway, more than once the impact of a flying 400 oz bar could leave a nice silver or gold scuff mark on a rivet head.&nbsp; That was a true pain as damage to the loads had to be reported.&nbsp; Sometimes the guy in the back (me) would get yelled at and accused of improper stacking and have to explain what happened in writing.&nbsp; Of course the driver ramming a pothole hard enough to rattle the filings in your teeth was the usual cause.&nbsp; At one stage in that mid 70s era we were advised to the extent practical to avoid 2nd and 3rd Ave because of the potholes, also caution on the FDR, the Queensboro, the Major Deegan, etc, yada, yada.&nbsp; </p><p><br /></p><p>I want to point out, Driver and Co-Driver were a team, I was a filler person hitting days off and the like.&nbsp; Some teams had regular 3rd guards.&nbsp; A lot of the guards I worked with were really&nbsp; nice guys.&nbsp; Cops and prison guards holding PT jobs, retired cops or soldiers and similar.&nbsp; Some I was quite happy to call my friends.&nbsp; Went to their homes, met wives and kids, etc.&nbsp; I moved on in 77 and left that industry.&nbsp; being from NYC I continued to get the NY papers so I could keep up.&nbsp; It was with some sadness that over the next 10 years or so every single one of the former teams whose members I called my friends was murdered in one robbery or another.&nbsp; </p><p><br /></p><p>A route called BX-1, 2 crazy hippies (HS and Army buddies, MPs) who lived next door to each other in Throgs Neck or Whitestone (forget which).&nbsp; They were considered crazy by everyone, because every day at lunch they would bring the truck home for lunch and just leave it in the driveway while they went in for lunch and a quicky up or down stairs with their wives.&nbsp; Didn&#039;t matter to them if the truck was full or not, they figured it was a good neighborhood so it would be safe.&nbsp; Their wives made a superb lunch.&nbsp; I ate there several times.&nbsp; Maybe 5 years after I left was their murder.&nbsp; One of the wives had a secret lover and a drug problem.&nbsp; One day they came home for lunch and the lover and the wife killed everyone then ran with a few bags from the truck.</p><p>Brooklyn 1.&nbsp; Great guys.&nbsp; Brooklynites from birth.&nbsp; Youse guys, and all that.&nbsp; I liked them a lot.&nbsp; They had 1 bad habit.&nbsp; One of them had an in-law who owned a deli.&nbsp; Their route had no variance.&nbsp; So every day at lunch time (always at the same time) they parked the truck in front of the deli and went in for great sandwiches.&nbsp; After a decade or so, someone finally noticed.&nbsp; They pulled up for lunch the doors opened for them to get out, and a volley of gun fire killed them on the spot and the truck was looted.</p><p>Queens 4, nice old guys, retired firemen.&nbsp; Stupid factory&nbsp; paid its employees in cash.&nbsp; One door in and walk down a long, long hallway and up a narrow flight of stairs with the money.&nbsp; Always workers coming and going during the delivery.&nbsp; Halfway to the stairs when the non-employees coming down the stairs opened fire.</p><p>Manhattan 3, an OTB parlor.&nbsp; Picked up the days receipts and gunned down halfway back to the truck.&nbsp; Stupid place had a fire hydrant and a no loading zone in front so it was a half block walk.</p><p>And on and on.&nbsp; All of my friends from those days.&nbsp; Got so I just stopped reading the New York papers.[/QUOTE]</p><p><br /></p>

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