Sometimes our positivity and hope for dry roads and clear skies are just not going to materialise into reality.Ignoring the weather forecast the night before an early morning blat is the first step, convincing yourself that it's not really that cloudy at 6am on the actual morning, it's just dark , is the final vain hope of the ambitious blatter.
6.45am on a February Saturday morning under another low pressure system tracking right across the country is only ever going to be presented in hues of monochrome. Perhaps the headlights can be viewed as to add a cheery brightness to the steely reflection of cold asphalt?
The like minded Southern Kit Car Clubbists are enthusiastic enough at the morning's RV to encourage all 11 cars to not head straight home to our still 'fragrant' beds.The majority of this dedicated team of blattists have again seen the best part of 80 miles of their mornings on the road before this outing has even begun... so it'd be a long haul back to the pit for them!
Eventually it becomes all too evident that the dark is in fact cloud and the wet stuff in the air is rain.
'Wrought iron trees against a tear stained sky' is the dominant and lasting image at times like this...I convince myself that it counts as payment in advance, an investment, for blats to come. However, the Basingstoke ring road and it's 5th roundabout add to ingredients that still fall short of a celebration cake that is likely rise any time soon.
But open roads are that key ingredient, add 11 other self convincing individuals in their 7even(esque) cars and it's not long before the rooster tail of spray and jack-in-the-box surprise moments of unnoticed feeble brake lights are adding to the adrenal slice of morning entertainment! Head north of Newbury, point towards Wantage and the rollercoaster road over the downs quickly negates the previous 30 mins amongst the early morning migration to Newbury, at sub 40mph, all the way from Basingstoke... why are all these people driving so slowly, going to whatever, at 7.30 in the morning? I'm going to conduct a road block questionnaire one day just to find out what's going on.Years ago I was warned to watch for any one wearing a hat in a closed car, and to afford them a few extra metres of clearance as they helm their vehicles vaguely towards a now forgotten destination. Most of the other cars out this morning were indeed hat wearers.
Sat nav shows a kink,naaa, open the taps and go for the horizon!!
Once the traffic clears, and any OCD fears for the previously shiny aluminium body work have streamed into the wake turbulence, the day's business can begin... a hunter spots his quarry, or, a photographer his sunset , but to say a driver 'anticipates the road ahead' doesn't really capture it does it? It's just a road for goodness sake, but in the hands of a driver accessing it's possibilities via the interface of a 7, even wet Oxfordshire tarmac on a cross wind blasted February morning can deliver nuggets of gold after an hour's panning in the spoil...
The sense of movement is enhanced by the the wet conditions and soon the rooster tails of ejected water and streaming goggles become part of that day's requirement in finding the gold. A spray trailing 7 at 60mph is a thing of dynamic pace when viewed from a similar viewpoint:
An eventual rest break and the chance to swap for some dry clothing is always welcome.Like a wet day on the piste, there's the rummaging in rucksacks, checking of cameras, recounts of 'who did what and when and got away with its' trailing off with the eventual realisation that the kidneys had been busily provoked in the harsh response to modern road texture, and, a choice tree or fence would make for a timely moment's personal contemplation amongst the steam.
With sat nav's re aligned it's eventually time for the departing do-nut expression session and off into Sat nav disparity. Groups would follow their leader and his trusty Tom Tom version of the itinery route file, so carefully prepared for the day, but slowly their trust would fail in his leadership skills.Smaller breakaway factions would follow their new leader with the same eventual outcome with the Garmin version of the day's trip. From opposite points of the compass we would arrive at a roundabout on cue, circle and take off in one group for a while before the attrition effect would again have its insidious way! Closed roads and missed junctions not withstanding, the cafe at Blackbush airport would eventually receive most of the day's participants for the post blat chatter and jabber and for the final hiatus of fried plates of stuff.
As previously blogged, the aeroplane people again spoke to the seated steaming drivists, probably in sympathy of our earth tied exploits. In their uniformed stripes of importance and with pilot cases of organisation, I wondered what their 'expression session' upon departure would include, what is the aeronautical version of a do-nut in a Cessna 152? Perhaps there is something really exciting in those pilot cases after all?
Blatfast at the airport cafe was good and the tea was hot.The kidneys approved of the new facilities and all was well with the world, although, I am going to have to get a new chamois leather on the way home to clean up that aluminium..... but not until I've had another cup of tea.
Cheers to Ian H for sharing the wing man duties today and for believing in the free form navigation experience of the latter part of the blat! Thumbs up to Mark and the SKCC again, thanks for having us along, and catch you again soon... if we could just get the weather right next time.
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