Bug Jam Book Taster

Just a snippet, thought I'd share... this writing can be a lonely business...

...As soon as he took off his coat, or so it seemed, he was on the phone to arrange a meeting for the following week. It would be a chance to break in his new expense account, and for me, herald another of those brief moments of doubt.
It appeared that Uncle Keith, whilst happy with the idea of a major VW show at Santa Pod, did not share his predecessorís blind faith that it would be a good idea to have the magazineís name ëabove the titleí. Was the magazine about to pull the publicity, and remove the kudos the event would enjoy by association? As it transpired, the business meeting went reasonably well. The pasta was more than acceptable, and we settled on the title ëThe First Annual UK Bug Jam, in cahoots with CCí. (I didnít really know what a cahoot was, but. I was fairly sure that there were none in the pasta.)


As the big day drew near it became well and truly apparent that the spirit of the event had been taken to heart by more than a few eager VW owners. Perhaps the enthusiasm for this ëfirst of a kindí event was best summed up by a Welsh VW owner, who phoned me a week or so before the eventÖ ìWondering, I was, do you have any kind of ëbreakdown service? I wouldnít want to come all that way and miss itî he said, or words to that effect. I wasnít entirely sure that I had the gist of his question, but after further clarification, he was asking if we could tow him in to Santa Pod, should he break down on the way! Obviously not all the way from Swansea, but maybe if he got close before his car gave up the ghost, we would come and get him. I suggested, politely, that he consider the relative merits of the AA, and the RAC as a solution to his imagined problem. I had an event to put together.

Cliff, Kevin and I, arrived at Santa Pod early on the Thursday before the event, in two 60ís bugs, ëOfficial Event Vehiclesí loaned for the weekend by Jamie at Smithers VW in Bishops Stortford. The journey up from Essex to Bedfordshire was uneventful, which is all you can ask for from 25 year old cars. We drove through the gates and rattled along the legendary approach road, which looked like the RAF had been using it for bomb practice continuously since the end of the war. Roy Phelps, then owner of Santa Pod, explained his theory to me, which in summary was ìIf we fix the road up, at least some of the gearheads who have just watched 250mph+ cars all day will drive like wankers even before they are out of the venue. This is not good. The craters and loose gravel slow them down.î

So we drove up the pitted approach road just as slow as anyone would drive in a borrowed car. Leaving rooster tails of dust behind us, and barely making the almost 90 degree bend which, fortunately, was forgivingly wide, we reached the ëfinish lineí, a gantry just short of the end of the ëspectator sideí road, with inches separating us. Modesty forbids me to say who won, but hey, Off-Roading, Shale Running and Drag Racing, all in less than a minute, and in a couple of old Beetles. This event promotion business is going to be fun.

As we drove behind the bleachers, to the pit side of the raceway, we were astonished to find two bugs and three campers patiently waiting for the event to be set up around them. Apparently the early birds had decided to start their road trip early, arriving from Scotland the previous night, they were now fully operational, with barbeque, beer, andÖ well thatís it. One barbeque plus many beers equals fully operational in a Scottish camper van. Fortunately I spoke a little Scottish, so I explained that whilst we were more than happy for them to stay onsite until the event day in three days time, they would be locked in overnight, because we had nice warm hotel rooms waiting for us at the end of each day.