We’re not selling anything! HDP Summer trip. By Northern John

Oct 31, 2014

Written by Bart de Jong

Read 2132 times

No fizzy drinks, no stupid looking hats that fly off each time you do a trick, no bike parts and not even a T shirt or a sticker. That’s what HDP has come to now. The only thing left to sell is the idea that the roadtrip never dies and that no matter how old or tired you feel, there’s still ‘one more’ left in you. There was a time when virtually every week in the year was spent on the road, driving somewhere new to ride new things and meeting new people, totally unaware that some of these misfits we encountered along the way would eventually become life long friends.

Time is a slippery little bugger and creeps up on you while your not looking and before you know it.....BANG. Forty has been and gone, you’re hair is thinning out , you’re riding is stiffer than ever before and now having to buy jeans that once would have been labeled as

‘DAD CLOTHES’ . Admittedly it might not sound like the best sales pitch but it’s the truth and there’s nothing we can do to stop this process and unfortunately for us, time only goes one way.

Time may take its toll on the appearance but its powers are useless to the mind of an aging BMX-er and while it transforms our youthful looks into that of a wizened old man, the mind within remains completely unaffected, smug and totally aware that no matter what changes may come, we will still have that mindset to get in a van with a load of other like minded geriatrics and hit the The HDP river reunion trip was our second annual roadtrip to celebrate our love of BMX and relive the good times at a slightly slower pace without having to promote a brand or keep a tally on the clip count.

The line up was nothing short of a crime watch identity parade with the odd clean cut youngster thrown in to remain politically correct. Team members from yesteryear crawled out of the woodwork along with friends and the next generation of riders who grew up a few year classes below the likes of us to keep the energy levels up when it got past 9pm. The plan was simple. Get everyone in a rental van and head to the southwest to sample some southern delights, ride the bikes and most importantly, have fun.

With the crew involved it was a dead cert that fun was on the cards and when they arrived to my sleepy village at 2am I knew it was going to be a good time as the van door slid open, followed by a ton of empty booze cans,plumes of smoke and vomiting reprobates that had got a bit giddy on the drive down. It was reassuring that people hadn’t changed and we could carry on where we left off last time. Tents were pitched and eventually everyone got tucked in ready for the weekend to begin.

Fri morning started with a dip in the local river which would be the first of many river spots over the weekend. Seeing as my house is on a water meter,the last thing I wanted was this lot caning the water and also it seemed like a quicker option to get everyone washed at once to save a bit of time. All spruced up and a cooked breakfast later and we headed to the fist spot which was the new bowl in Tiverton. It didn’t take long for people to get in the swing of things and its pretty safe to say everyone had a good ride. I say everyone but Jay Openshaw got dealt the HDP bad fortune card for the umpteenth time (anyone remember the ride video true?).

Having been given a day pass from his missis, then having to ride 8 miles down a canal path in blazing heat,then to smash his shoulder in after an hour of shredding. Not that anyone was counting but Jay did more in one hour than we all did the rest of the trip which is a testimony to his love for sending it on a BMX.

After a quick visit to A and E just to confirm the bad news we all expected it was time to meet up with Dan Oakenby and co at the trails. I think I can speak on behalf of everyone that this spot was the highlight of the trip. Rad trails located in the woods with a river running next to it with room for all our tents, a BBQ, shit loads of booze and brill locals. Pretty much all a BMX could wish for. Tricks weren’t essential and more to the point no one cared so there’s no run down of the hammers here. I know there was lots of dead sailors, hang ups, crashes, heckling and camaraderie which is what HDP represented all those years ago.

As the night time fell the booze flowed like the local river and the evening was spent reminiscing of days gone by with a little saltyness about the state of the modern scene thrown in for good measure until one by one we passed out and retired to our tents.

Saturday morning started with a trails session which hasn’t happened for at least.......ever in my case but the vibe was so good it was hard not to get involved. 1st run for me and a massive crash over the bars which left me with a dead leg that lasted a week. It sucked but I rode through it all the same.

One more river dip for the crew and we packed up and headed over to Green machine over at Newton Abbot to stock up on bike parts and sample the local chip shop. I think we made the womans day as she shut the shop as soon as we had been in. Must have made enough to close early thanks to the northerners passion for chips and gravy.

N

ext stop was another concrete bowl at Decoy which is home to Kye Forte ( 2 times world champion you know?) Kye wasn’t around but a strange bloke was doing a headstand while puffing on a Gandalph style pipe on a crusty jugglers rug. I had to do a bit of a double take but it was none other that ex Ride magazines very own Lard. Catching up with him was a pleasure for everyone as Lard was a key part in the HDP story and took many a great photo of the people associated and documented the story that accompanied the ‘True” video mentioned earlier. Half an hour later and the heatwave turned into a pour down which put a stop to that session.

Once upon a time we would have been raging and cursing our bad luck at such an act of god but with age comes wisdom (if you can call it that) and this soaking was just part of the fun and our cue to leave. The second camping venue and the final night was spent out in the wild of Dartmoor. Once again there was enough booze to sink a battle ship and probably the equivalent to half a cow in BBQ meat (apart from the jacksons vegan platter) and a few extras courtesy of big George.

This mixed with good company and a lot of shit talking is how I know and love BMX. The time on the bike is good and doing tricks is all ok too but its this time off the bike with like minded people that make you appreciate what BMX is really all about. Looking around the camp fire was a melting pot from all walks of life. Trails riders, Street riders, well known BMX-ers, unknown BMX-ers, college lecturers, grafters, lazy bastards ,artists, shop workers all just loving a few days away from our normal lives.

The next morning saw us take our final dip in the river and head to one last spot to have another session. It was layed back to say the least but we had successfully managed to ride 3 days on the trot which doesn’t happen very often anymore. By afternoon it was time for a teary goodbye and the northerners headed off back to north west of England while I put the kettle on and collected my thoughts together. Once more my faith has been restored in BMX and the HDP collective have done it again. Each and every person on board brought something to the table and made it a trip to remember. Thanks to everyone who came and a special thanks to the southern mincers for letting a bunch of strangers rider their spots....

NEVER SURRENDER.

-NJ