and to share information about how you use our site with our social media, advertising and analytics partners.
Unless you disable cookies in your browser, using this website means you consent to this.
Forget pâté de fois gras to the sound of trumpets, sitting outside the beer tent by the heavy haulage ring on a beautiful summerʼs day,
with a halfway decent pint in one hand watching these magnificent machines go through their paces was the nearest thing to heaven that Iʼve experienced.
Perhaps not a vision of heaven that everyone would subscribe to, but the sheer scale of this event would indicate that Iʼm not alone.