Driving, chatting, chilling. At the Hayride.

Missed a few events I'd planned this year. Money, kids, but mainly laziness. That, and actually doing other fun and life important things.

But the Hayride. Missed the first two. Had to make No. 3. Didn't look likely for a while. Plan was to travel light in the Modified. Failed MOT. Passed MOT. And then? Clutch started to slip. Years of zero maintenance finally taking their toll on the thrashed little 21 stud flathead. Oil pumping out into the bellhousing, water leaving by the same and other routes. Too late for another plan. Angst building at the thought of a long motorway trip in the ol' Odeon Shag Sedan. Disappointment running high. So wanted to take to the dirt oval track. Sedan not gonna cut it as a substitute...

But. Not so bad. Left mid afternoon, missed the traffic that plagued everyone else, packed too much, forgot everything. Jen, me, childless for a weekend. In the prettiest, bizarre place we could imagine. The Hayride. Hotrods, and rock and/or roll pressed into the surroundings of Bisley Shooting Centre. Where corrugated tin appears to have gone to retire and every place had a veranda.

Dust, cloudless sky. Relentless sunshine. Beat us in the end, but watching the period stockcars, and fun-to-be-had hotrodders out on the dirt and flint oval. Priceless times.

Warm evening sitting outside the Pavillion, talking about anything and everything. Brilliant. Catching up with friends. Happy.

Against the advice on the packet, happy enough to add a beer or two to the tablets I'm on. Felt fine. Then, late night panic rising, surrounded by smoking friends, hate to lose them, thoughts mixed up. Hopped in the car to run off and panic alone.

Real friends care. Came looking. Sorry an' all.

Spent a while chatting to a drunken real friend. Hugged me, brought me down. Cheers bud, I did listen, just tiredness overtook me. That ol' Sedan is a weary motor to drive...

Back to the tent, Jen's ill. Bless.

Decamped in the morning, packed before the drizzle, easy drive home. Rolling with the traffic. Out again to pick up friends and family from the airport. More driving! Tired, happy, hungry, scruffy and unshaven, off to bed.

Highs and lows are all real life. And the highs from this weekend? Gonna last a long, long time.