With a substantial kick I thump the kickstarter of the BMW R60 down. The R60 comes screaming to life, plant the pot on my head, put sunglasses on and pull the shawl up to above my nose. Jan plumps down behind me on the small racing-seat behind the long black polyester fueltank.
Where are we going I yell. Let's have a look on the camping in Echten he yells back.
The megafoons start roaring when I open the throttle and steer on to the A28 towards Echten.

It is 1976, we are pushing 20 and out for adventure.

There is always a lot going on on the camping in Echten and often there are bikers on a seperate part of the camping. Attracted by that, we often visited this large camping and so we did this saturday.

As soon as we approached the bikerscorner, there was a group of tents standing together and an amount of chopped bikes. Curiously some guys stood up and beckoned us while we were passing by.
Join us, one of them yelled. When we sat down in the grass between the men, I discovered that this was quite an outstanding group that we joined today. Coats with lots of rivets, belts made of chromed timing-chains, rubber trucheons and large daggers were laying around.
I looked at an older guy, that drove the tip of his dagger into the beercap and with a downward movement he toppled it from the bottle. He reached out to give me the bottle and showed me a toothless smile.

I looked around and next to me, on a small table, I saw a bunch of keys. On the keyring there was a chopped-off finger with the nail attached to it. That one belonged to my mate the leader said. I dried it, by laying it in salt, so that all moist was withdrawn quickly. After that I've varnished it 6 times, because it should not get wet again. I drilled a small hole into the bone, where it was chopped off and screwed a hook in, that I've closed.
I looked at the rivets in my jeans-coat, I had put in about 640. It had become heavy, but there was a jacket that had at least double the amount.

Are you joining us tonight to the party-tent in Westerbork, the Golden Earing is giving a concert.
Allright we said and we were welcomed within the bikerclub the Glosshelmets. Early in the evening we drove with the entire club to Westerbork. Jackets were fluttering, the sun-tanned arms were covered in tattoos, daggers in the bikerboots and the truncheons dangled negligent by their sides.
When we entered the party-tent, everybody went silent around us. Those present looked at us prolonged. You could see the question on their faces, what kind of people are this.
But soon everybody continued with what they were doing, but my intuition told me that the crowd was careful and I senced that there was something in the air. I didn't know what at that time.

Suddenly the band started playing and soon there was a good atmosphere and the dancefloor was covered in notime at all. Also the clubmembers joined in on the dancefloor and danced cheerfully along. Soon it became clear to me, that there was more going on than just dancing. The gentlemen often held out their feet in order to tackle the other guests. This went on for a while and I really didn't feel very pleasant about it. It didn't take long when I noticed that there was whispering and a scheme was hatched.
Suddenly we heard a chair fall with a loud bang and not much later there was a bunch of guys hitting others with the folding-chairs. There were literally chairs broken om mens backs, while they were laying on the floor protecting their heads with their hands. With about 6 men at the time they were hit and kicked. This went on for a few minutes, we were disgusted but we knew that they had it coming with their behaviour.

The whole bunch now moved outside and I discovered Kees the leader of the group near the toilet-wagon. He had pulled a gun, stood there with it in his hand and yelled, I'm gonna shoot them, I'm gonna shoot them all. His eyes were blazing and I saw him completely out of his mind, which was very dangerous of course. He didn't seem the type to me, who would do something like that, but in this situation it was cunning because he freaked out completely.

People ran away yelling and girls started to scream. He's going to shoot they screamed, which made the situation even worse. Things were getting out of control. I had to do something and yelled "Kees, wait"! He looked at me and I yelled at him, Kees put away that thing and grabbed his hand in which he kept the revolver and slowly pushed it underneath his jacket, towards his inside pocket. Kees, you ruin everything with this, don't do it. He stood with his back against the wagon and I kept talking to him. Nobody dare approach us. He finally had his hand with the revolver in his inside pocket and kept repeating "i'm gonna shoot them all".

Suddenly the situation changed. The alarmed police drove up in a mini-van onto the grounds and the policemen jumped out of the van while it was still driving and they urged the people to be quiet. Soon they picked all the Glosshelmets out of the crowd and arrested them, for their own safety as I later understood.
Kees suddenly changed into a very controlled and calm guy. When he stepped into the van, I heard someone cry out that he had a gun. When the bikers were transported, we walked to the meadow where we had parked our bike and decided to go to the police-station out of solidarity.

At the entrance-gate of the meadow there stood a hedge of people waiting for us. For a moment I thought that now it was our turn, that we had to fight our way out. Once we had arrived at the crowd, 2 big guys on woodshoes stepped on the path and stopped us. As soon as we reached them, I yelled in the Drenth dialect if we could pass by. Somewhat surprised to hear their own language, they stepped aside and with a look of: Oh, they don't belong to that group, they let us pass. That was a scary moment for a while.

On arrival at the policestation we were allowed to come inside. Immediatly we smelled the scent of fresh coffee and there was laughter inside. When we entered the room where they were, there was a lot of fun and laughter. Surprised we looked around and we never had seen so many bruises and closed eyes together.
It didn't seem to bother them, they were probably used to get a beating every now and then. They must have thought that those Borker farmers were a bunch of tame sheep.

That evening the megafoon-pipes of the R60 roared early on the road to Hoogeveen. In Hoogeveen Jan and I were having a beer and looked at each other and decided this should end.
In the future we should select our friends more carefully, this wasn't the first time we were present at something unpleasant.

Later we heard that a few years prior to this happening, a group of bikers of a not very wanted bikerclub had passed through the village. During this trip they had been slapping around with chains. Also against the villagers and the Borkers sure had not forgotten that yet.

A day, out of my younger years.

I think that some Borkers will remember this story, when they read about this.

The names of persons and of the bikerclub have been changed.

JanBMW.