Still a bit musty from the party the night before, Appy arrives at the gas station from Hazeldonk where Ger and Richard were already waiting.
While standing there talking they heard a dark sound get louder and yes indeed, it was Robert with his bare, black hands and a hat or a helmet on his head or a combination off one kind. There was a strange, sweetish smell to Knuckle and this explained perhaps his red eyes....
After checking if anyone lend some money to gypsies (not this time, as it seemed) we left at half past nine.
With our gloves on, because it was quite chilly.

The first refueling Robert refills so much that his tank started overflowing, it is resolved by using his helmet for a standard.
Later on the highway he points to his tank, to indicate that his gas cap is lost. Probably in the radiator of that expensive sports car but we didn’t ask it back....
The problem is solved by using Duc tape and a tie-wrap.
From Libin we drive secondary and it remains Belgium huh, occasionally need to stop to check the roadmap, fortunately we are not in a hurry.
When we pass a restaurant nearby a castle, Appy hits the brakes heavily and Bullit almost runs into Ger’s bike which in his turn is almost hit by Knuckle and then there was also something with a car but fortunately everything is okay and we have “breakfast” around three in the afternoon. Bullit has an average of hunger every 100 miles and we haven’t seen a McDonalds yet.
Having a nice meal we are about to forget that they do not speak Dutch over here but understand it just the better.....

When we finally enter France, we ride along the Meuse.
Around half past six we arrive at Mecrin.
Just before the village one opened the gate to a field and placed a sign with the word "camping".
And that was about it, many people with motorcycles, old cars and tents but nothing else.
The village was deserted (population 200, but no one to see) no shop, pub or a resident who is clever enough to open his own bar, nothing.
Fortunately, it’s old-fashioned over here and they offer us lots off stuff and one is even offended if we want to pay.
Everyone was well prepared but us, so next time....

Cas already arrived and had arranged for us to be invited at the restaurant Jean Claude had reserved for his guests.
We are getting a lift from Los Locos (thanks, guys), but first gather in the center (?) of the village.
Here we get chilled beer from Bruno out of the creek in which the motorcycle of School Bar Atelier was parked and we meet some of the exhibitors and volunteers.
There is a super friendly atmosphere, good and old-fashioned.
In the restaurant we get a big plate with rice, vegetables, stew meat, chicken legs and sausages and apple pie and cheese for dessert.
Ger and Bullit are not really happy and see this occasion again as a proof that the French can’t cook, for real.
We‘re drinking beer and Appy gets almost everyone to do the "wave".
Also outside it’s very nice, but unfortunately, we‘re going back to Mecrin (Robert is almost left at the restaurant).
Apart from a small incident the evening ends successfully.

Sunday morning it is, note this, Bullit who gives us a wake-up call. Looking for something edible, we get to one of the exhibitors who is opening a package of the kebab skewer with his gloves.
With the same gloves he pours us our coffee, gives us our change back and also prepares the baguette ham for Richard. Fortunately he had his paper hat on....
Because it is likely somewhere in the world time for a beer, we take our first at a quarter past nine. (Yes, in the morning)
Looking for an opportunity to take a shit, we finally find two Dixie’s at a dead end street.
Ger and Appy are lucky because they have the last paper of the roll.
Robert makes the most of it using the roll itself.... and the paper from his tobacco bag.
We stay to watch what happens and we‘re surprised about the women who get into the Dixie’s after us.
The smell was so bad, the alley was drenched in the smell of manure, poor exhibitors.
(The Dixie's, probably were put there on Saturday morning and no longer checked until Monday.)
We say good-bye to Cas who has more than 900 miles ahead before he gets home.
Walking around, we’re recognized by many people and we had to shake many hands.
Ger buys a front fork (Bullit’s “lorry” can carry much, if necessary)
Knuckle tries a ring but can’t get it from his finger.
Now he must buy it and haggling has no sense!
The ring contrasts nicely out of his black hand!
At another stand he buys a filler cap for five euros.
On two nice locations cover bands play their music, but if the English text is lost, they make it sound English, no one notice. (except those Dutchies who know the lyrics of Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin).
Occasionally we even lose Bullit because he likes to dance so much.
The beer stand seems to be placed just for us. In Holland one beer stand wouldn’t be enough for, give or take 2000 people.
Bruno and Coco keep us company the rest of the day.
We eat some at that huge stand with strict hygiene rules (Not) and enjoy the striptease with whipped cream at low temperatures (the weather, not the whipped cream, though.)
This explains those huge, stiff nipples ...

Eventually we returned to our tent where Los Locos donate us a whole pile of meat and a barbecue grill.(and thanks again folks, next time it’s our turn ....)
Robert gathers wood and Bullit arranges a tray of beer.
If we start to barbecue Bruno and Coco join us again.
Bruno continues to wonder what club we are, but, explain just in French that we, despite together, are no club.
Bullit is very enthusiastic with collecting wood and the sound of breaking trees reflected on the as good as empty field.
To our surprise we see a fat guy undress while leaning against his car, trying to keep up. After getting successfully in his sleeping bag he falls flat on his bag.
Then a struggle follows to close the damn thing. Because Coco is part of the organization, she checks him, but the guy is cocky, and we pray that he survives the night....
Richard falls asleep immediately and when we finally go to bed we hardly get him into his tent.

Monday morning.
Ger is awake at four o’clock because the church bells strike every hour.
Bullit gets up and wonders how on earth he got in his tent.
Even the guy in his sleeping bag, survived the night.
Because there is nothing to eat in the village we break up at half past six to leave, at least, after push starting Appy’s bike (Well, something has to go wrong.)
Robert saw someone with a local newspaper which had a report on the "Get A Rigid" swap meet.
Within ten miles, we stopped three times but a newspaper was not available...
We decide to go on the highway because we know that’s the place to score a decent breakfast.
Because of threatening clouds we get our raingear on and discover that Knuckle’s raincoat appears to be a trouser. We can cut the crotch part out so he can put his head through...
The ride goes well and just before Antwerp we stop again for a container of coffee.
Because Robert is not used to his ring, he almost cuts his nose off.
We say goodbye and go home.
And of course it's close to home to reach the most dangerous part of the journey, at Galder Bullit almost crashes into the back of a truck, but fortunately it ends well.

All in all it was a short weekend away with not too many miles, without bad luck or breakdown and with very much fun..