Geoff Nicholson - Still life with Volkswagens

♦

Friday night passes off more or less peaceably. There is some scattered rowdiness and partying in both fields. There is no doubt a little drug and drink abuse, and certainly there is music and dancing. But the partying remains non-violent, the intake of drink and drugs remains moderate, and Planetary Cliff’s sound system, vast though it is, stays quiet enough to avoid complaints from police or locals, and it is turned off before midnight. Not long after that, both fields become calm, quiet and dormant. Camp fires burn here and there, and the occasional Beetle cruises the local roads, but there is nothing going on here that need frighten or threaten the local community. But then again, this is only Friday night.

It is Saturday morning before reports begin to circulate that several New Age travellers have been beaten up and robbed in the night. These attacks are declared to have been cowardly and unprovoked, carried out anonymously, viciously and under cover of darkness. Unseen fists, boots and baseball bats have emerged from the darkness, and none of the victims is able to describe the attackers; certainly none could specify that he was beaten up by Volkswagen-driving neo-Nazi skinheads.

♦

Saturday morning. Dawn breaks. Pale sunlight moves over the fields and the caravan site, over Volkswagens and caravans and tatty old buses, over holidaymakers and New Age travellers and Beetle drivers alike. Slowly things come to life. At the edge of Bug Mecca a group of skinheads is seen performing exercises, martial arts moves and occasional Nazi salutes. It is quite clear to those camping nearby that these boys are up to no good, but so far their misdeeds have been entirely clandestine and they have created no cause for concern. Furthermore, the campers reason, any group of lads that drives such a tasty set of Volkswagens can’t be all bad.

This is to be the big day of the Bug Mecca. There will be an engine changing competition, a concours d’elegance, and a Miss V-Bug competition, although so far there are only two entrants for that. There will be continuous showings of the Herbie movies in a darkened marquee for the children. There will be an autojumble and swapmeet, and a display of Beetle dragsters, although they won’t be allowed to drive anywhere, and there is the promise of an ‘engine destruct’ — an event where an old Beetle engine is over-revved until it destroys itself.

It will be a big day for the Gathering of the Tribes too. There will be any number of workshops and seminars on Tai Chi and water divining and on how to spot a spiritual vortex. There will be chanting and meditation. There will be demonstrations of tattooing, massage and reflexology. All good stuff. But it is hoped that at some point the tribes will not only gather, but actually merge, so that there will be a loss of self, to be replaced by a feeling of oneness, a blending into the group mind. To this end Planetary Cliff will be playing some extremely loud music and everyone will dance and take a lot of drugs; just as Davey dreamed. However, since these activities will take place throughout a long, sleepless night, things are a little slow to get moving in the New Age field; everyone is resting up for the rigours ahead.

Fat Les is up bright and early. A lot of potential customers will need to be chatted up in the course of the day and he has to be ready for them. He has to appear civil, friendly, welcoming, enthusiastic. None of this will be easy for him, so he takes his first big drink of the day at a little after nine-thirty.

Barry wakes early enough too; not surprising, given the level of comfort to be found sleeping on the back seat of Enlightenment. He gets up, goes across to the shower block and ablutes. There’s a perfectly good shower unit in his own caravan but he doesn’t want to risk waking Charles Lederer. He knows the old guy is hardly likely to sleep solidly for the whole of the next two days but Barry intends to spend the afternoon and evening with him in the caravan, talking about life and death and other Zen topics, and thereby ensuring that he doesn’t see the hordes of Volkswagens. With this in mind he plans an early visit to Fat Les, so that with any luck he’ll be back before Lederer even stirs. Nevertheless, just to make sure, he locks the door of his caravan before departing.

He goes on foot to the Bug Mecca, since there is already a traffic jam forming along the roads surrounding the caravan site. He comes to the entrance gate and pays the exorbitant entrance fee. He wanders between the rows of parked Volkswagens and the trade stands for a good spell before he finds Fat Les. He sees the Fat Volkz marquee and as he enters he sees Les holding court with a group of enthusiasts. He comes up behind him and says loudly, “I’ve got a Volkswagen I’d like you to take a look at.”

Fat Les turns to see who’s talking to him, and when he sees it’s Barry, he turns back in disgust.

“It’s Enlightenment,” Barry persists. “It needs some attention.”

“Yeah?” sneers Les. “Take it to your approved dealer.”

“Please,” says Barry. “Why this hostility?”

“If you don’t know…”

“Please tell me. Please express your anger. Get it off your chest.”

Les doesn’t need asking twice.

“You let me down, you bastard. I asked you for help. I asked you to help clear my name. I asked you to find Charles bloody Lederer, and you wouldn’t.”

“But I would. I did.”

“What?”

“I looked for Charles Lederer. I found him. I caught him.”

“Did you hand him over to Cheryl Bronte?”

“No, he’s locked up in my caravan.”

“Are you serious about this?” Les asks. “You’re not just winding me up?”

“I’m serious,” says Barry. “He’s at the caravan site not two hundred yards from here. Of course the old guy swears he never blew up any Volkswagens but I must say I don’t believe him.”

“I may have misjudged you,” says Fat Les. “Have a drink.”

Fat Les gets rid of his customers and Barry tells him about the various adventures he’s had while finding Charles Lederer, although he omits the stuff about Marilyn apparently being in love with someone else, and he tells him about the damage that was inflicted on Enlightenment. Fat Les is sorry to hear about the damage but he’s confident that Fat Volkz Inc can make it as good as new. In fact he’s come up with one or two new modifications that he thinks might fit very nicely into the existing structure of the car. Barry is thrilled. They’re soon talking like the friends they once were. They begin to reminisce, to discuss the old times and this takes them several hours.

It is mid-morning when Phelan arrives in the nearby village and starts chatting to the local inhabitants. Has there been any trouble yet? Have there been fights, robberies, drugs and sex? When people tell him there haven’t, he begins to wonder whether his boys have been slacking. Outside the caravan site he encounters the Ferrous Kid.

“Have you seen signs of trouble?” he asks.

“No,” says the Kid.

“Don’t worry, there’ll be trouble soon enough.”

“Will there?” asks the kid. “All the ones I’ve met have been peaceable enough.”

“Well that’s precisely the problem, isn’t it? People aren’t always what they seem?”

“You mean that you might really be a hippie in disguise?”

“I mean,” he says sternly, “that people may look like good solid Englishmen but they turn out to be cosmopolitan riff raff. Someone ought to teach them a lesson.”

“What are you?” the Kid asks.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well I thought you must be a journalist or something, but you don’t ask eno’ugh questions.”

“I’m just an interested party,” he says.

“But for all I know, given that people aren’t always what they seem, you could be cosmopolitan riff raff, couldn’t you?”