Dutch hotrod show 16 -17 November '13

Another great meal with the Trashers at the restaurant, then it was party time. Every year the show organisers, Christa & Henry Van Uden, lay on a bit of a do at the onsite pub for all the show entrants. Free beer & food all night -well, it'd be rude not to go really wouldn't it.
The main pathway through the woods, from our lodge to the show halls, had 2 large metal gates along it's length, a few hundred yards apart. They were supposed to be left open for the weekend, but every time we went by, one or the other would be locked, leading to the rather undignified sight of a bunch of middle aged English guys trying to scale them. We're obviously not quite as agile as we thought we were, Mr Loon managing to rip a large hole in a brand new pair of jeans while trying to leap over the fence.
The Trashers had come across this problem before at previous shows & had come prepared. Back at their lodge they had enough tools to take the gates off their hinges. Great. Unfortunately, when we left their place, we went in the wrong direction -& spent the next 2 hours wandering forlornly around the park, trying to find the party. There may have been some drinking involved.
Eventually, having passed the same landmarks 2 or 3 times, we found our way back to the gates -they were unlocked.
By the time we got to the pub it was heaving with hotrodders. We walked in to find a solid wall of people, stood shoulder to shoulder in a haze of smoke, chattering in half a dozen languages. A couple of hundred squeezed into a tiny, hot & sweaty room. I never actually saw the bar all night. At the far end of the room, the band from the show hall, Twenty Sicks, were playing a blinding gig. AC/DC, Motorhead, Metallica -all played on guitar, drums & slap bass. Brilliant stuff. Drinks just seemed to magically appear. We'd put a half full glass down on the table & it'd be instantly whisked away & replaced with a fresh one. It's amazing how generous people are when the beer's free -"Let me get you a drink". "No, no, allow me". "No, I insist". "Let me get you both one". Ironically, although there was an endless supply of free beer & wine, my Diet Coke had to paid for. Sometimes I think I miss out on so much by being a non drinker.
The mosh pit at the front of the stage was in full swing -or pogo anyway, with bodies from all over Europe leaping about & bouncing off each other in a chaotic, surging, beer soaked melee of drunken, grinning faces. There was beer dripping off the ceiling. As the band launched into a searing rendition of Rage Against The Machine's Killing in the name -"I won't do what you tell me, I won't do what you tell me" -Dale appeared out of the mayhem. "Mind if I borrow your drink"? "Sure". He grabbed it & flung the contents over the moshers. A fresh glass immediately appeared.
In the middle of the mosh pit madness, a tiny oriental lady in pristine black & white waitress uniform threaded her way through the crowd carrying a tray of hot spicy meatballs with a garlic dip. As Loony put it
Raargh!! ...Ooh, meatballs. Thank you ...Raargh!!
A great, crazy night. The Dutch certainly know how to party.

Dale & Tim.