Motocross

Road trip

Road trip

years ago the lads, some C-90s and I piled in the Fun-Bus II and headed off to Namur for the MX des Nations. A FEW years ago the lads, some C-90s and I piled in the Fun-Bus II and headed off to Namur for the MX des Nations. That weekend will live in my memory until I die or at least until the point when I’m old enough to start repeating myself, dribbling and forgetting my own name. And I know what that’s like already – it happens every time I get on the turps.
That weekend will never be beaten for comic value. My mate Guyer, a crate of 1664 and Belgian shrubbery made the ideal ingredients for a weekend of tear-streaming laughter. With that in mind for us not to have made the trip to this year’s MXdN is like someone saying Jordan has a sophisticated intellect – it’s just not going to happen.
A different platoon of goon soldiers were assembled for our latest assault on Belgium and this time the C-90 chickens and the Fun-Bus II stayed at Perrett HQ. Pax got the ****take ball rolling when after driving for an hour-and-a-half to my place he casually dropped the bombshell that he’d forgotten his passport. There was more effing in 10 minutes than at an entire Chubby Brown gig – but in a nice way you’ll understand. Right then I knew we were up and running on a good weekend. Pax’s wife Sarah met us on the way to Dover with the clown’s passport so at least we made the ferry on time. And Sutty hooked up with us at the white cliffs, although with no spare press passes he was no use to us at all – but we took him anyway!
We got the holeshot from the boat and caned it all the way to Hasselt to a hotel that we hadn’t booked – well there’s nothing like being organised is there (and this was nothing like being organised)? There was no room at the inn or at any other inn within 15 miles so we had to tear back up the motorway to Leuven – the home of Stella Artois. Coincidence or destiny? The hotel we found was directly opposite the Stella factory. Personally I can’t stand the stuff but some of the lads slept with the windows wide open hoping the wind would turn and they could pick up the fumes.
The extra TV channels were also a nice touch and they made interesting viewing, although they were strangely charged to mine and Sutty’s room – needless to say we had a quiet night in. Saturday morning Sutty total redeemed himself when he flashed his FIM press card and got us parked up real close to the paddock, good job too because it was sprawling with people already.
The best thing about being on mullet watch is that the laughable barnets make me very comfortable with my hair loss. As well as plenty of bad hair styles there were some pretty bold fashion statements going down as well – and occasionally we’d come across a combination of the two. I saw one bloke – at least I think it was a bloke – who’d done himself up in a lovely Miami Vice meets Timmy Mallet number and finished off the look with euro wellies. Striking! Mark my words, fluoro pink is the new black. I was disappointed with the lack of beautiful women to stare at – most were nice from afar but far from nice (low-resolution foxes!). Well, these big events aren’t all just about the racing y’know.
After watching Carmichael go upside-down over the finish jump we all decided it was no more than a fancy cross-up and that we don’t like show-offs. Like Pax always says, "until you can jump the Kingsteighton tabletop on the first lap you ain’t nothing". Then he came out with the funniest statement of the weekend – I’m not gonna repeat it but I can tell you the outcome was 20 minutes of pure stomach-cramping pain as we laughed. It was made worse by the fact I very nearly let go all control of my bodily functions – I was so close to an almost memorable accident. Rosco had tears rolling down his face and he didn’t even hear what Pax had said. That moment was the blueprint for the whole weekend…
Judging by the amount of Brits out there, I don’t have to tell anyone what the racing was like. Everywhere we went we’d hear a British accent. In between the fits of laughter I actually had a quiet moment of thought – there’s no doubt about it, we’re a massive MX nation. When the lads did their parade lap and all the air-horns went off, with the Union Jacks waving I had a tingle down my spine – and it had nothing to do with Rosco being stood behind me either. Our lads got as much noise – if not more – as the Belgians. Congrats to Coops, Noble and Swordy – the boys done good. British MX is definitely on the rise again. I’m excited by next year’s British championship and especially by the fact we’ve now got two GPs.
I hope everyone who went to the MXdN will go to both GPs next summer and make them a cool place to be. I was stood there thinking how amazing it would be to have another MXdN in the UK. Even though the atmosphere at Foxhill was buzzing there’s no getting away from the fact that the weather screwed it. I’ll live in hope, along with the rest of you, that it’ll happen.
Of course, the other bonus of having the event in Britain is we don’t need to fish out our passports – so even Pax can make to that one with no ***k-ups.
Jeffro