Every year as the conservative territory begins to slowly awaken from its post-New-Year slumber, something very strange happens to Canberra.
For a few short days in January, it becomes like every other big capital city: noisy, jarring, and eclectic.
All because of a remarkable event called Summernats.
Love it or hate it, Summernats has helped Canberra become temporarily just a little bit like everywhere else, when for much of the calendar year working class Australia points its accusatory finger at our part-time political tenants, their sucker-fish lobby groups, airconditioned public servants and, of course, our roundabouts and general tidiness.
Sleepy, tidy and oh-so-appropriate Canberra has tolerated Summernats for decades, because for all intents and purposes the noise and inappropriateness is corralled behind the chain link fences at Exhibition Park and occurs when almost everyone is out of town.
There's always tyre smoke drifting in from the burnout competitions, of course, and the marvellous Friday lunchtime City Cruise down Northbourne Avenue, but generally the whole event and its extraordinary chrome-plated, pearlescent-painted, piston-thumping entourage remains closely contained.
Australia has plenty of similar such car events, but it can be sheeted home to the enterprising promotional wizardry of Launceston-born car nut Chic Henry that Summernats somehow made its home in the national capital and, while under his control, built an enviable national reputation as the biggest event on the modified car calendar.
Chic Henry recognised the inherent advantages of Exhibition Park for an event such as this way back in the mid-1980s.
The showground had lots of internal space for camping and parking, plenty of pavilions for various types of associated events and commercial stalls, a large centre oval to fit hundreds of cars for the show'n'shine, and, best of all, an internal cruise strip for entrants.
Summernats and other "mobile" car events like it - as opposed to static car displays - exist like a utopia for those who plan to staunchly resist the onward march of Elon Musk and his ilk.
Outside the Exhibition Park wire is a strictly regulated motoring world where noise standards, exhaust emissions, crash protection ratings and a raft of federally-drafted regulations are slowly but steadily turning the fun part of driving into ownership of a hyper-regulated automaton.
However inside, on the cruise strip, almost anything - registered or not - goes, as long as you're an entrant and the vehicle is safety-checked by the scrutineers.
So for a few short days under the baking hot Canberra summer sun, the conservative, buttoned-down outside world of the capital is firmly parked at the gate, inhibitions are eased somewhat and the celebration of the car begins.
Last year, the ACT government's own report found that Summernats generated $31.9 million of income for the territory, of which $28.5 million was from interstate visitors.
It is an event, although billed as "family-friendly" by the consortium of new owners, which still has a number of rough edges, as evidenced by a stipulation that the media leave Exhibition Park every evening by 4pm. What happens after then, it seems, is deemed not worth reporting.
There have been issues down through the years: near-riots and burnouts in Braddon, sexual harassment, lewdness and fall-over drunkenness and, as recently as 2017, an incident in which a man riding in the back of a flatbed ute fell off when his mate driving the car "chirped" the rear wheels.
"Chirpies" are a common enough practice on the cruise strip, but in this instance, the trayback rider fell, hit his head and died. The rules on riding in the back of utes and flatbeds have since changed.
Yet beneath its slightly rough, thong-wearing and sombreroed exterior, Summernats is quite a show, from the extraordinary skills of the burnout drivers to the gob-smacking metal-flaked fastidiousness of the vehicle preparation in the judging pavilion, the modified lawn-mower racing and the ever-popular best mullet contest.
The internal cruise strip's passing parade, rolling by hour after hour from early until late, reveals the very broad "cultural" sweep of the Summernats enthusiast crowd. Beyond these fences, the various sub-groups - from the hot-rodders, to the Fast and Furious fours, the Aussie-built V8s, and the ever-popular American muscle cars - drift apart.
But here in Canberra, the meeting place, it's like common combustion ground.
For the first time in 16 years, a hot rod won the coveted 2019 Grand Champion prize at Summernats 33 and everyone, from the muscle-car clan to the "rice-burner" revheads, cheered with gusto.
It's that kind of car show.
Despite its long history in Canberra and the apparent support of the Barr ACT government, Summernats promoter Andy Lopez can't help but feel his hugely popular event is vulnerable to the whims of future policy direction and the push for urban renewal.
The ACT government won't provide him with the long-term contract he wants, because the future of the real estate is still an open topic of discussion.
"We're actively trying to secure the event's long-term future in Canberra, but after years of polite negotiations, and, more recently, months of meetings and one-way proposals from us to government, we're still waiting to find out what's happening," Mr Lopez said back in April.
RedCentreNats is held in Alice Springs in September. In June 2020, Mr Lopez is staging the first Rockynats in Queensland, using Canberra's Summernats as a event template. The scope of this event has been widened to include motorcycles and cars, and has the full support of the Rockhampton Regional Council.
Talk to the entrants, and they love coming to Canberra for Summernats. It's not too far to tow a car, it's an established event, and it's held at a time of year when many people, particularly those running a small business, can take some leave.
And yet, for every year that passes in which there's little or no capital investment allocated to the showground, its future as an entertainment venue feels just that little bit less certain.
