I had a beast of a billycart when I was a kid. The seat was a plastic primary school chair with the legs removed. The steering mechanism was a crossplank and a length of synthetic rope. I think the back wheels were from wheelbarrows.
And boy oh boy, did that baby fly.
Your entire body bumping and bouncing as the wheels trundle over the bitumen, picking up speed until you wonder if you’ll lose control. Your knuckles white as you clutch the rope, your hair blowing in the wind, your eyes streaming with tears.
You never realise how fast a billycart is until you’re halfway down the hill. And somehow I never realise how much oomph a Belgian-style blonde has until my first sip.
The yeast brings juicy pear esters to the nose and there’s a honeydew freshness in the mouth, but don’t expect the crispness of those two fruits. This beer’s almost into liqueur territory - honey sweet and thick as syrup. I can imagine Belgian grannies in the 1800s giving this to kids when they’re sick.* Billycart Blonde certainly picks up speed, but never loses control; it’s all held together neatly with a bounty of malt character, and there’s only enough alcohol warmth to make your eyes shine.
Common People sponsors the annual Bangalow Billycart Derby, and each year brews Billycart Blonde to coincide with the race down main street. And if you close your eyes while you’re drinking it, you can almost feel the wind in your hair.
I can't imagine anyone's winning the Bangalow Billycart Derby with a crossplank and a rope, and Billycart Blonde is probably more like a race-winning speedster than a machine Frankensteined together with parts from the dump.
But boy oh boy, did that baby fly.
Mick Wüst
\ I assume this is obvious, but: this is a joke, and is in no way an endorsement of giving alcohol to children. You should never do that.
