Crich Show Report 2016 - Part 3, Sunday

28/5/2016

or Carry on Crich 2016 or Several fat blokes frolicking in a field

by Mike Peake

Sunday morning broke bright and cold. I was somewhat later rising than other campers in the field as is a gentlemen’s right. This was because I had slept poorly due to the extreme cold of the night.

Hypothermia had not taken me, though it was a close run thing. Nor was my lack of hypothermia due to the antifreeze effect of the alcohol in my blood as someone rather rudely suggested. I remind you that I was dinking stream water with the rest of you.

Picture shamelessly stolen from Tosh Brooks. Yes, we’re jumping the horrendous queue!

After more wakeup sandwiches from Gar’s fatted pig, the group set off in convoy for the museum again, to be confronted by the biggest queue of classic cars ever to be seen.

It was then that the 3rd miracle of the weekend occurred. A bolt of gold lightning shot forth from the clear blue sky and struck Tosh Brooks. It had a miraculous effect on him. Suddenly feeling important and in the knowledge that everyone believed him to be a Tramway official he strode purposefully about and herded our group past the peasantry and members of lesser car clubs, straight into pride of place round the bandstand like the VIPs we should be.

I have to admit that I was fearful of serious injury caused by all the “Paddington Hard Stares” being directed at us but our Lord of Old Cars and his Prophet Tosh protected us.

Picture shamelessly stolen from Tosh Brooks

Gar and I were looking forward to this day as we’d be able to enjoy the show and museum without any of the responsibilities of our own show. Paul on the other hand would still have to work very hard in his role as a volunteer and was already running around like a mad man looking harassed.

He did another great job though and another great day ensued. Obviously, it wasn’t quite as good as our own show but they did their best and it wasn’t too shabby.

We could see however, that the liberal words of our heretic from the night before had taken seed with some of the following. There was evidence of Johnnie Foreigners and Post 85 cars. It was clear that the breakaway movement was gaining ground. Don’t worry though, as we still have our puritan sanctuary on Facebook.

I spent the day in good company mooching around cars, talking about cars, riding trams whilst looking at and talking about cars. Also, as was our Lords will, revealed to us on that cold hill in Derbyshire, we came up with a shortened version of our name. I declare it to be “EMB…no…that’s not right…EBM…er…what’s next…oh yes V then it’s err B… yes B followed by umm… another B and 1985. Yes that’s it! I declare, according to our Lords will, our shortened name shall be EMBVBMBV1985” Amen.

Before I knew it, it was time for me to depart. So I headed back to the campsite where miracle 4 occurred and I got everything packed back into Poppy. My sadness at leaving was outweighed by the prospect of a 3.5 hour roof down blast in my favourite car and old friend. Poppy handled this trip with aplomb and vigour.

The final miraculous happening occurred 4 hours later. Mrs FB appeared marginally pleased to see me when I arrived home.

In all seriousness though, the Crich weekend rates as THE best car club event I have ever experienced. Great cars, great venue, great weather, but most importantly, great people. You really are all jolly decent and nice and it was a pleasure to meet you.

Obviously, special thanks must go to Paul Cheetham for his vision, enthusiasm and energy and turning out not to be a young hooligan at all. If you were unfortunate enough to miss it, I’m sorry but you missed something really special. Don’t worry though, it was such a success that we are hoping to make it an annual event.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “They couldn’t possibly have eaten all that cake!” Well, yes we did. As evidence, please see the subtitle above.

I also know that you are wondering how much truth there is in the above tale. Well, I set out to produce a gospel of truth but then I remembered an old adage from my Rugby days that “What goes on tour, stays on tour.”

So, were we bathed in heavenly light from above? Or was it just Kevin turning on Sheila’s Wheels? Was the Holy Popup Tent of Crich truly holy? Or was it just bought from a motorway services? Was Mrs FB marginally pleased to see me when I arrived home? Well no. Clearly I made that bit up, but she did have a birthday tea and presents ready for me.

There is good news though. There is a way you can verify what is truth and which bits I might have applied a bit of authors licence to. COME TO THE NEXT MEET AND SEE IT FOR YOURSELVES! You might even have a bit of fun.

Full details of the next group meet are available here (click) - Ed