Why has driving in the UK become such a miserable experience? For reasons unknown to me, it took well over six and a half hours for us to drive from Glasgow to Leeds. A mere 224 miles. The British army used to walk that in less time, then, like a caravanist, set up in a muddy field and do all the things that armies do. From what I can make of the misery that is driving from A to B in the UK, is that the Greta Thunberg’s of the universe have made it their sole purpose in life to ensure the motor enthusiasts of the world can’t enjoy such simple pleasures.
I fear in years to come, us rev heads will be relegated to the doldrums of some boarded up gymnasium in an abandoned school. What that is to say, is that the world’s gotten it in its head that we all need to be driving EV’s because a few polar bears might go hungry. But EV’s aren’t exciting. They’re microwaves on wheels with a radio, designed by a committee of do gooders. Whereas a 1957 Caddy was designed by a bloke named Bob, who took some pride in his days work and wanted to make art out of a V8 and a few extra metal panels. I guess they’re just this decades spinners, but they’re bought by tech nerds, not rappers.
With that said, I filled up the tour van with a tank of diesel, threw in some Add Blue (to keep the polar bears fed) and set the GPMS for Eindhoven. And let me tell you, what a sight for sore eyes Café The Jack truly was. This club is the size of a 10 year olds shoebox, and filled to the brim with heaps of rock n roll decor that brings a homey like feeling to you while you’re a long way from your actual home. The venue is the perfect spot to play in town, and our gig was completely sold out. The Netherlands clearly loves its rock n roll, Golden Earring and Freeway are prime examples of their exquisite taste.
Downtown Eindhoven seems to allow everybody to order a pint one bar, and then take it to another pub to finish it. It’s pretty unhinged and before long, the streets were filled with underage drinkers and subsequently; vomit & Zyn’s. I still don’t understand the Zyn craze. Just smoke a Marlboro Red like a man and ask yourself, “what would Lemmy do?” Because I can’t imagine him being a part of the Zyn parade. Since the town turns into a festival of chlamydia once the sun sets, I decided that driving the van through this mess after our gig was a dreadful idea and I’d load out in the morning. So, in the spirit of the mood, and to follow suit with the locals, I took part in the previously mentioned extra curricular activities. We drank most of the beers on our rider, smoked every durry this side of the Nile, and I took a few wet ones on a self guided sightseeing tour. It’s hard to squeeze in your cardio workouts on the road, so getting my steps in is key.
Café The Jack, or “Café The Jack Sparrow”, as we drunkenly dubbed it, is what Tiger Woods is to golf. Brilliant, just without the adultery. It’s an epic bar to play in, or simply hang out, and sink piss in. The staff are great, the tunes are spot on, and The Dutchies clearly like to show up and get pissed as pirates. Which I for one, can relate to. Thanks a million Eindhoven.
Ps, Netherlands, your croquettes are to die for.
6/6.
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