With the red lights of Amsterdam glowing on the horizon, the final morning of Zwartecross arose with the sweat and smell of 220,000 people on disfigured festival grounds, and the final Superklasse of the weekend set to hit the track. While working his way into fourth in Saturday’s motos, Durham caught is knee on a deep inside rut, twisting it until feeling a pop, claiming the Medial Collateral Ligament along the way. With a stiff hobble made worse by eight-plus kilometers of walking the night before, the decision was made to ride opening ceremonies, pop some wheelies, and call it a wrap with some decent mobility still in play while Tyler Bereman carried the torch for ‘Merica in the final motos. Also onboard with TB was Yumi—The Viewing’s beloved Burnt Toast movie extra and portable blow up doll with “luscious” lips… and uh, other parts as was claimed on the box she arrived in.

With “Dicke Titten Kartoffelsalat” blaring over the loudspeakers and drunken, cheering Euros lining every inch of fence, the parade lap commenced. Durham was to escort “Fatty Patty” on the front of the 420 machine, but she clipped a foot on the exhaust pipe and deflated, abandoned in the staging area watching her friends ride off into the fray. Along with European Von Zipper Freewheeler Tristan Purdin, they roosted the shit out of raging fans, popped wheelies, and made an epic toss out for the fans, sending Yumi onto the next chapter of her illustrious life.

After Tyler clipped the gate hinge from a second row start, he was awarded with the worst start of his career, but he still put his head down and got to work. Just before gate drop, he ripped off his ZwarteCross wristband which was cinching up on his right forearm, cutting off circulation and causing it to pump up like a piece of cauliflower. The newfound blood flow literally gave him back eight seconds a lap, putting down his best laps and most impressive ride of the week; even earning and invite to race the infamous Lommel event in Belgium the next weekend. Respectfully, he declined—European sand riders are no joke, and everyone was ready to log some R&R in Amsterdam.

DEATH CRUE WESTBOUND, NEXT STOP: THE ROYAL AMSTERDAM HOTEL

For the next 3 days, they’d switch from motorcycle racers to tourists. Decked out in fresh American gear from Fasthouse, DC, and Vonzipper, they stuck out like sore thumbs as they hit the streets in search of smoke-filled coffee shops, good times, and the finest pleasures that the city might have to offer. Over three days, the crew discovered art by Banksy, plentiful pre-rolls, catcalling women yelling, “Blondie!” to Bereman, espresso and truffles, and best of all… English speaking humans. Slightly intimidated by streets and buildings built in the early 1500’s that are best navigated by bikes, it was exactly the cultural trip they’d been hoping for. Amsterdam is a place best experienced rather than told about. While semi-legal weed and sinful sex are the lead-offs to every foreigner’s Amsterdam tale, there’s much more to the city than relaxed rules. It’s a cultural melting pot, teeming with life and stories of self-expression that does not exist in the United States. Things in America are too new, too sanitized, and too politically correct. Making some awesome new friends along the way, The Viewing scored their first taste of Europe and fell in love.

Be on the lookout for more global misadventures, even less f*cks given, and more creativity than ever coming out of The Viewing and their band of media marauders. They’re challenging every established norm, smashing paradoxes, and proving to motorcycle riders that the best ride is the one where you have the most fun. We’ll leave first place to the jocks, because when you’re the happiest dude out there, you win every time, no matter what.

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Photos and Words by Aran Eversman