Aged 90, Brian Wilson is undoubtedly among the world’s oldest working lorry drivers. And, after more than 70 years on the road, he has no plans to apply the handbrake just yet. BBC News’ Kevin Shoesmith went along to meet him at a Sheffield haulage yard.

Brian Wilson does not bother with a sat nav. He does own a road atlas, although he tells me “it’s about 40 years old” and, in any case, is kept in his car boot.

“I don’t need a sat nav or a map,” says Brian, straightening up, “it’s all up here.” The 90-year-old, sporting a high-vis jacket over an old jumper, grins and taps his temple to reinforce the point.

We are sitting in the cab of Brian’s 1993, ‘L-reg’ lorry. Next to the modern Scania trucks lined up in this haulage yard, on the outskirts of Sheffield, Brian’s lorry stands out.

The gearstick is held together with tape, the upholstery has seen better days and there is a whiff of tobacco. But, like him, it ploughs on.

According to Guinness World Records, the oldest male HGV licence-holder is the UK’s Jack Fisher, at 88 years and four days, as of 27 January 2021.

But Brian has been invited to make his own claim on the record by submitting proof of age and occupation. “I don’t really think about it,” he says. “I just go out to work.”

Whether he is just being modest or matter-of-fact, it is hard to tell.

A packet of 20 cigarettes, a lighter, a copy of the Daily Mirror and rags occupy the space between our seats.

“I get restless when I’m not working,” he says.

Brian shows me some photographs, as we take a trip down memory lane, from fresh-faced soldier to nonagenarian.

There is an image of him on holiday. He is sitting at a table, studying a newspaper. He does not look like a man on holiday.

“Two or three days of not working, not doing anything, and I’ve had enough,” says Brian. “I have to be doing something. I always want to get back to work.”

In the haulage industry, he is known as “an original”. While others rely on ratchet straps to secure loads, Brian prefers the old fashioned way, using rope and sheeting.

It is a dying art, he tells me.

Brian credits his uncle with teaching him to drive aged 16, although his National Service in the 1950s – driving American troop carriers in Germany with the Royal Horse Guards – undoubtedly sharpened his skills.

In the 1960s, following a stint delivering petrol for Esso, Brian joined his father Edward’s haulage company – E. Wilson & Son.

“I used to deliver ten tonnes of sugar,” he says. “You’d be in trouble if it rained and you’d made a mess of your rope and sheeting.”

Brian recalls paying just under two shillings for a gallon of diesel. “I’d do a week’s work on £40 worth of fuel,” he says.

Today, Brian owns the family business, transporting mainly steel springs.

“I mostly go to the Midlands,” he says. “Every Thursday, I am up at four o’clock, ready to leave the house at quarter past five.”

Brian reels off his “drops” for the day. “Leicester, Tamworth, Redditch, Birmingham, Telford…” he says, “I will do about 300 miles.”

Birmingham’s infamous Spaghetti Junction causes him no problems, he says, but he gives London a miss.

“You end up crawling along in London,” he says, haunching over the steering wheel to labour the point.

Brian is a man of few words, and he makes them count. His demeanour softens when I spot his wedding band.

“We’ve been married 67 years,” he says, smiling. “I was 15 when Mavis and I met at a fairground in Attercliffe.”

He shows me a photograph of the couple taken on their ruby wedding anniversary. “She still looks after us all,” he says.

Source: Guinness World Records

Brian may take after his mother, Gertrude, who lived to the age of 102.

Like his lorry, Brian also requires a full health check each year, with his next due before Christmas.

If he is deemed fit to work by his GP, Brian intends to carry on for at least another year before contemplating retiring.

“It also depends on how my wife is,” he adds.

Other hauliers speak highly of him.

Martin Fisher, owner of Martins Distributions, where Brian parks his lorry, has known him 10 years but calls him “Mr Wilson” – a respectful nod to his seniority.

“I asked him the other day when he thought he was going to retire,” says Martin, chuckling. “He just looked at me funny. He’s a true ‘original’, as we call them. They’re a dying breed.”

Michael Hopley, transport manager at Ember Transport Ltd, has known Brian for 30 years. He says he is “very youthful”. “He’s on and off his wagon like a man 30 years his junior.”

Paul Mummery, from the Road Haulage Association, added: “Seventy years behind the wheel is phenomenal service and shows an amazing dedication to our industry.

“He will have seen a lot of changes over the years as the job has evolved and it’s really heart-warming to see that he still loves driving lorries. He’s an inspiration to us all.”

Back in the cab, Brian acknowledges there will be some who believe, at 90, that he is too old to drive a car let alone a lorry.

“I know, I know,” he says, staring out of the window. “But I’ll know when it’s time.”

“It’s a toss up which will retire first,” he adds, “me or the lorry.”