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The Trip Out, Euston Hall, GB

The Trip Out, Euston Hall, GB

Traditions require sacrifice. That's especially true for regular coverage of Brexitania's most monumental open-air accumulation of Harley related wrenching excesses and Milwaukee metal preservation aficionados: the Trip Out. But, you know, someone has to do it. And it's our man with the best reason to talk about boattail shovels: a boattail shovel.

Started at sunrise, the '83 Shovelhead reels off the miles, interrupted now and then by the usual side effects: minor ignition gremlins, ferry, rain gear on, off, on: Ah, England! To be precise: Euston Hall. A sprawling 17th century Palladian-style estate with church, hall, park, gardens, ponds, bizarre ornamental buildings - nothing could fit here better than the one-man tent of a Milwaukee iron rider.

Saturday begins rain-free

at the 9 o'clock breakfast stand with tea and a chat with a friendly native about his '71 Boattail Shovel. A perfect start to the "Trip Out" Saturday: a gathering of old Pans, Knuckles, K-Models, Shovels galore, Sportsters, Brit Bikes. Oldtimers. Organizer Andy potters around on an 80s low rider in splendid condition, adjusting the idle while chatting, good man. Ditto his wife Anna, who masters organizational challenges of the magnitude of a piston seizure (keyword here is rental toilets) - Anna, Andy, without the Trip Out the world would be a worse place. Also the weather Buches up and gives the party a warm summer night with the Stars looking down. The queues at the beer counter are impressive.

Accordingly, the party tent

quickly turns into a steam engine, where the sound production of bands with promising names like "Craig Shaw & The Excellos", "Oh! Gunquit", "Hipbone Slim and the Kneeshakers" is visually voluminously accompanied by the world-famous Meyer Dancers.

Due to the racket, the night's rest in the tent gets a little stuttery, but with the day dawning, after a brief farewell to the next tent neighbor who obviously gave his best the night before, and '71 Boattail man, the Shovel rumbles off toward Dover, ferry, highway, as tradition demands.