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For me it had been a long time coming,
my last Rod Run being Drayton '03. A number of factors; work
commitments, an empty wallet and spiralling mental health
problems brought this forced abstinence about. However, all
that behind me I was set for the Big One, the 30th NATS. My
expectations were high, but were more than exceeded. If this
wasn't one of the best shindigs I'd been to in a long while
then I'm Napoleon.....again.
ANY ADVANCES
Myself and the Doug Marriott Clan pushed off from Northampton
at around 10:00 Friday morning, the advance party consisting
of Roy in his MK1 'Tina, Jacko in his A40 Panel Van and Donk
about an hour ahead of us. It would be great if I could report
an uplifting spiritual experience on the way, but it was just
two hours of uneventful A14 scenery way down to the Suffolk
County Showground.
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'If this wasn't
one of the best shindigs I'd been to in a long while then
I'm Napoleon ..... …… again.'
I am sure Doug felt the journey down was as uneventful as
I did. Street Times Magazine asked Doug if his journey down
had been as uneventful as Yoda's.
ST: Doug, had your journey down been as uneventful as Yoda's?
Doug: Yes.
Once at the gate we could see the guys from the advance party
weren't winding us up when they had phoned and said they had
queued for over an hour and a half to get registered. In fairness
we didn't wait above forty-five minutes to get in, and used
the time constructively, Doug and myself cracking open a few
tinnies and putting on an impromptu cabaret for the captive
audience. (We left one or two who obviously hadn't come across
us before, sitting open mouthed and wide eyed behind their
windscreens like rabbits caught in headlights!).
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SHOOT
ON SITE
Once through the gates, the sheer scale of the showground
became apparent. Mark Ashman and the Committee should be commended
for obtaining the site, which is a cross between Essex and
Billing. The security zoning and enhanced security personnel
(so exactly where were they 'enhanced', Yoda? and what did
you have to do to discover this fascinating fact??? PB ;-)
was also a marked improvement on previous years and should
go a long way to addressing the NATS security issues raised
at the AGM and set a new benchmark.
'Two into one won't go no matter
how many Buds you've necked...it's
mathematical b*llocks!'
After a few more beers it's time to get the tents up. Unfortunately,
after spending twenty minutes blowing up the double mattress,
I unpacked the borrowed 'double' tent to find it's a single.
Two into one won't go no matter how many Buds you've necked...it's
mathematical b*llocks! Then comes that period of calm before
the evening entertainment where you flit between sitting back
and watching others arrive and set up, cruising around the
site shaking people's hands, rekindling old friendships and
generally getting your bearings and taking it all in. Brilliant.
Pike and Suzie were having problems with the shaker pickup.
The starter was dud, and so unfortunately was the one dispatched
from M'Hula HQ as a replacement. Now whether it's because
it's my first major show in a couple of years I'm not sure,
but to my mind this was becoming probably the largest collection
of vehicles covering all aspects of our hobby I've seen amassed
in a long while, Street Machines, Rods, Customs, Pick ups,
Lowriders, Yanks, you name it, it was there, including Copie,
the silly sod, in a fully chromed Gypsy caravan! For me, the
strangest sight was a blown Volvo that had so much engine
poking out of the bonnet it looked like a Teasmaid dropped
from fifty foot had hit it! Also, I'm probably the only person
this year who hadn't seen it, but Johnny Best's revamped '34
looked beautiful, and you'd be forgiven for thinking he couldn't
have improved on the black and pinstripes but he's pulled
it off.
'Johnny Best looked beautiful pulling
it off...'
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It was good to see that Geordie Paul and
Sue are still making a living over at Duksville, although
I didn't come across Frank Poppadopalis the Karma Chameleon,
which was a shame as I was looking forward to getting a word
in edgeways!!
Friday night saw us up at the marquee for a few more beers
and the NATS disco. As marquees go, this one seemed a little
more robust than in the past and certainly a lot larger than
we're used to. Clever the way the guide ropes are out of sight,
which is a real bonus at throw out time. I can only assume
it's a real tw*t to put up. Seriously though, if I'm going
to niggle, then guys, you need to rethink the acoustics. That
said, it wasn't an issue, and if anything allowed for better
conversation at the bar end. Bumped into the ex, Tracy, who
gave me the low-down on her husband Crusty and Martin Paling's
new venture, Dooster. Street Times Magazine asked Tracy if
Crusty and Martin will be taking Dooster in the same direction
as before, offering part-built to turnkey projects to all
sectors within the hobby.
ST: Tracy, will Crusty and Martin be taking Dooster in the
same direction as before, offering part-built to turnkey projects
to all sectors within the hobby?
Tracy: Yes.
Back to the camp for a night-cap and a Public Service Announcement
or three round the calor gas heater (no bonfires allowed)
until that point in the early hours when you realise that
your mates have re-erected your tent......on top of your car.
B*stards!
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CRUISING
FOR A BRUISING
Saturday morning saw me losing me rag in the toilet block.
The guy next to me, after washing his hands, promptly threw
his paper towels onto the wet floor. At this point, his fat
f*ck of a mate (now, now, Yoda, you shouldn't be using that
kind of language! I'll amend it for you! PB)........his f*ck
of a mate....comes out of trap one, wiping his hands on loo
paper(?) and then also lobs it on the floor. As they leave,
get this, they are both complaining about the state of the
block. I felt it my duty to call them back and explain that
it's not the sh*thouse fairies that come in at night and mess
the place up, but lazy w*nkers like them who are either too
idle or too fat to turn 45 degrees and use the bin. I couldn't
have got a better reaction if I had p*ssed on their Hush puppies.
'it's not the sh*thouse fairies
that come in at night and mess the place up'
It was soon time to head down to the show field and gather
for the cruise. The atmosphere was electric, with three quarters
of the field full of cars and as many again coming down from
the camping areas. Mongo and me were cruising with Mo in his
matt green '32. Me up front, Mongo out back in the rumble
seat. It was awesome, as we were midway in the convoy all
we could see front and rear were rods. I try to imagine what
goes through the minds of the general public as they stand
on the side of the road waving at us. God knows how long it
took to get all the cars safely off the campsite, but I can
safely say it's the largest cruise I've ever been on in a
car. (Yarmouth '84 Scooter Rally pulled in 800 scooters; the
ride out was a buzz I'll take to my grave.)
'Holy sh*t Ethel, the circus must
be in town...'
As the cruise hit Felixstowe sea front we were directed down
onto the promenade. I really felt for the old folks who had
probably paid tuppence ha'penny for a sea view hut and we
all rolled up in front of them. The look on one old boy's
face as I ambled past seemed to say 'Holy sh*t Ethel, the
circus must be in town.'
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ONE STEP
FORWARD, THREE BACK
After parking up we made our way to the music. There she stood
wearing next to nothing, and what she was wearing was PVC.
Fantastic. Unfortunately, after a couple of minutes the cars
fire up and we're on our way again...100 yards. OK, back to
see Speedball, she's now taking even more off, bugger, we're
moving again...another 100 yards. We repeated this half a
dozen times.
Value for money or what. One huge cruise, a stripping rockabillyette
and six mini cruises all in one morning! By the time we came
to our final stop and I'd managed to prise meself out of Mo's
rumble seat (not one of me better ideas) the band had finished.
We found a small pub off the sea front and killed a couple
of hours in there. When we resurfaced, the prom was still
pretty well packed, as was the main strip behind it. I think
you can safely say that for those few hours, Felixstowe was
ours! On the way back to the camp, we followed a bone-shaking
matt black, steel-rimmed '27. Looked the part, but it had
a VW engine stuffed up its rear end. At the time I didn't
get it. However, since I've been back and had a chance to
think about it, each to their own and all that, I still don't
get it.
Answers on a postcard please.
'the last Bud may have been off,
which was strange as the other 12 had been fine...'
Back at the camp we got fed and then wandered round for the
remainder fo the afternoon. Never mind Sunday's prize giving,
for me the star of the weekend was Gaz O'Connor's Moon truck.
It's the first time I'd seen it in the flesh and it's a beauty.
I have to admit that the evening was a bit fuzzy, probably
the last Bud. I think it may have been off, which was strange
as the other 12 had been fine. Somewhere in the marquee the
band were banging out a medley of Status Quo hits and although
not my cup of tea they didn't sound too bad. I did bumble
down to the stage but the eyes were a little blurry and all
I could make out was a bunch of Adam Sayers' look-alikes,
bless 'em.
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IT'S SHOWTIME
Show and Shine. I could fill this mag with a report on the
display of vehicles but I think the photos can portray more
than I could ever write. It was a field and a half of machinery
that could just about have covered every aspect of the hobby.
A sweet Model A that funnily enough wasn't on the show field
but was parked up by the bar tickled my stick. It was running
a Straight Six Chevy, which incidentally is the lump I intend
to drop into the 'A Phaeton. Cash allowing another couple
of years should see it on the road. O'Connor, you can then
move over because I'll then have me own car of me dreams instead
of having to t*ss over yours. Yes, that wasn't seagull crap!!
Evening dinner was a full carvery from the pub up the road
and jolly nice it was too. Doug and family were just seating
as we arrived, same also for Rotty and Graham, so that left
a table for two, which Mo and me sat at like Derby and bloody
Joan!
THE ALL NEW BEST NEWS EVER
Sunday night saw us back up to the marquee for the final night
party. As I intended to push off early Monday morning for
a prior engagement, I hadn't hit the Buds, so was able to
touch base with most of the people I wanted to catch up with
all weekend. Guy and Nicky were all smiles as usual with not
a bad word about the weekend, and the same comments were echoed
by Johnny and Sarah Best, and Martin and Deb Paling. Big Steve
from Watford Rods was having a good time, as was poor old
Jinna, bless, who is usually so impeccably straight and serious
but was now absolutely slaughtered and was rabbiting on to
me for at least 15 minutes and all I could decipher was 'choirboy',
'olive oil' and 'best ever'...hilarious!
’poor old Jinna.....all I
could decipher was 'choirboy' and 'olive oil' .....
Mad Mick was also full of it, attired as he was with his customary
leather saddlebag brimming with Fosters, top man. Said it
was the best NATS he had attended. Street Times Magazine wanted
to confirm with Mad Mick that thiswas the best NATS he had
attended.
ST: Mick, could you confirm for us that this is the best NATS
you've attended?
Mad Mick: Yes.
So there you have it, they can't all be wrong. There is one
more heavy to add to the list of NATS fanciers, unfortunately
he wishes to remain anonymous, which is a real shame because
he said to me in confidence that it was the best NATS he had
ever attended. Pity he didn't want to be named as I would
like to have explained properly about being caught as I was
apparently wiping seagull cr*p off his truck. Doh! Oh well,
sorry Gaz.
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WE ALL
CRAZY NOW
Slade came on and did what Slade do best. It was odd watching
the crowd reaction. The further into the set they got, the
more you forgot that Noddy wasn't fronting them, and as the
more recognisable hits were belted out, more and more people
who were 'obviously too cool' to be seen watching them, made
their way down from the bar end and joined in tapping their
feet and
waving their arms. Old Dave Hill bounced around like a spring
lamb ensuring we all saw him. Yeah, faded rock star but so
what, he brought a smile to my face and took me back 27 years
to my mis-spent skin-headed youth. The encore could only have
been Merry Xmas Everybody, to which the whole marquee joined
in, and who gave a sod what season it was...no-one, that's
who! Fantastic!
'and who gave a sod what season
it was...no-one, that's who! Fantastic!'
That was it, that was the NATS through my eyes. I've said
it a lot since we got back but it was the best I've been to.
The M'Hula Crew that attended agreed. It pulled in the best
NATS traditions on a site that offered plentyand delivered!
You can’t name everyone, and I've learned doing a report
like this that the temptation is to include, in graphic detail,
every conversation you had with everyone you met over the
weekend. Can't sign it off without a few mentions though.
Mark and all the committee who were involved with providing
us with the best NATS in many a year, well done lads and lasses.
'I'm definitely going to have my helmet polished ready for
the 31st NATS next year...'
The old boy from King's Lynn Cruisers, I don’t know
your name, but don’t think you went unnoticed trying
to keep on top of the ever-mounting pile of rubbish. Steff
from Ansty, just good to touch base with you again and the
young girl camped up from us who I promised would get a mention
but I've forgotten her name, she knows who she is. Let's do
it again. I'm definitely going to have my helmet polished
ready for the 31st NATS again next year.
Have to sign off now as I've got a meeting with Adolph Hitler,
Florence Nightingale and Great Uncle Bulgaria in the day room
and need a crayon for the minutes, and I've already used seven
on this write-up. Nursey is bound to make me pay for them
out of me dinner money.
Yoda
HMP Rampton
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