Walcha MotoGP: Where’s Tajna Memorial Ride. October 2013.

Short answer, somewhere else. In fact no girls came. No Care-Flight helicopter required either. You see it was three years ago that seven rode out and only six came back. Remember? Tajna, on that Harley-Davistown Limited Edition Soft-tail, went belly-up on the Thunderbolts Way near Nowendoc and then had to be flown to John Hunter Hospital. She always said it was a freak accident but I think she just spotted a pretty cow in a pasture and the bike merely followed her gaze……down the embankment , over the fence, and next to that same cow. She wasn’t killed or anything so we laughed pretty heartily about it. The Soft-Tail ( I’m referring to the bike (THE MOTORCYCLE)) was eventually written off, leaving the remaining ten million of them even more limited and, therefore, I suppose, more valuable.

Lovely. So, since neither Ant nor Tajna were available for the ride, given his commitment to looking after his daughter and her commitment to staying the hell away from him, we only took five: Sideways, Nige, Lucky, DD, and Moey. It was good to see new skinny Nige with half a dozen new holes in his belt to accommodate his healthy shrunken girth. Sideways wanted to know why he was on the GSA instead of his Ninja, “You ridin’ like a pensioner now mate?” He asked and we all laughed at that and slapped Bobby on the back and everything.

This time we headed out towards Singleton and stopped at Wollombi where we met “Rocket Rod” – at least that’s what it said on his number-plate. Rod was pretty excited to see us and wanted to show off his new/old Honda VFR which he got “For a bargain dontchya reckon guys? Only paid 5 grand cash for ‘er” “How many kays it got” one of us asked. “Dunno, about free hundred fousand I fink. Whazzat got ta do wif anyfing?” He was a gem.

DD had earlier arrived at Maccas with a rear tyre that was as flat as Rodriguez’ singing. Yeah my friend Sam saw him in concert this year and said he was “Painful to listen to.” so don’t get mad at me. Anyway, a prayer or a novena or something plus some air in it and it looked like it was okay. I’ll get back to that. We stopped at Maccas in Singleton where the boys had bran muffins and talked endlessly about their various miracle cures for this and that and preventative grains for staying regular or something. They wouldn’t have looked out of place knitting socks while they were there.

We eventually found our way to Gloucester where, getting back to the DD story, his front tyre was now pretty ordinary as well. “Jeez fellas I can’t believe the big fella upstairs would set me this challenge when I just wanted a weekend away.” Fortunately, on closer inspection, it turned out he’d just left his angle-valve still attached after the last time he’d topped up. “You ripper” he exclaimed. “Thank you Lord. You’re a champion.” But God hadn’t finished enveloping DD with his loving protection. More on that later.

And on we went to the Thunderbolts Cafe for lunch. DD and Nige had the biggest meals ever and both reckoned they were dreadful.

So, after that debacle, out along Thunderbolts we went and landed in Walcha about 4ish. Except, that is, for Sideways who had earlier left Gloucester like a scalded cat and had gone so fast he broke the space-time-continuum and arrived the day before yesterday. Lucky led the rest at a more leisurely pace and happily avoided the radar after Nowendoc. “What are ye doin Lucky. Ye don’t have to slow down to 60 for #$@%’s sake. The speed limit is a hundred ya know”. “Sorry Nige, won’t happen again” a chastened Lucky replied knowing he had only slowed to about 95 anyway.

We all wandered off to the RSL club where Nige signed in as Valentino Rossi from 1 Italy Street. (Next day he signed in as Markey Marquez of 19 Spain Rd and hoped the rissole club would rue the day they lost a perfect marketing opportunity when these MotoGP heroes visited their club) He’s a rascal. We had a few beers here but were disappointed to find out they wouldn’t be serving dinner because they had no cook.

We did eventually stumble to the Apsley Hotel for dinner and then back to the Walcha Motel. Sideways forgot his medication so was in considerable pain which meant he couldn’t do the Gingers Creek ride next morning and Lucky must have eaten a poisoned nut because he was unwell and stayed in his room as well. At least it gave him time to write his memoirs.

The ride to Gingers was excellent by all reports and DD, who led, was flashed twice, there and back, by the rozzers to slow down. Anyone else would have been shot through the leg as a warning but not DD. None of us know how he does it but he appears pretty serene about the whole thing and how come he never gets booked, “As if ” is all he will say with a little glance skwards. As for that bike of his; it blows more smoke than the Marlborough Man, has all sorts of odd bits falling off it willy-nilly, uses more oil than a porn scene fluffer, and has tyres with less air in them than Yul Brynner’s lungs. “I still love the old girl but.” He maintains, “She’s a ripper and an absolute champion.” Meanwhile, earlier, Nige had gone wandering around Walcha looking for pornography. And he found it.

Sunday afternoon was the big race and we gathered at the RSL. Some big fat guy was watching the cricket but the barmaid had promised the screen to us the day before. Nige took action, ” Excuse me but you said we had the big screen to watch the races so could you change channels now. Thanking you!!” She replied “No I can’t he’s watching the cricket” “Well tell him to bugger off” “I can’t” she said “Why not?” He said. “Because he’s the president of the club” She said. “Oh for #$%@’s sake” He said and added, “Well I’m the president of the Nige Motorcycle outlaw gang, and this is my posse” pointing to where we had all just been standing. We were actually hiding behind the chocolate wheel in case trouble started. “Oh for #$%@”s sake you lot come out here.” But we were pretty comfortable right where we were. Luckily, the fat president, oblivious to the shenanigans, chose that moment to head off home and, with a cheery wave to us all, bade us a good night and a safe journey home.

The race was run and won (Lucky won the cash prize for picking the winners) and we had Chinese food at the New England Hotel. A pretty early night where Nige suggested it was time for us all to rub one out. Most blokes would just say goodnight.

When Nige wandered off to the bathroom we all discussed the idea of ordering breakfast early in our rooms next morning and then leaving promptly at 7 to beat the heat. “Oh for #$%@’s sake” was all he had to say when he found out. We ate at the Amora cafe and left at 8.30.

 

It was about ten degrees when we left Walcha so we rugged up warmly. When we passed Carson’s Lookout it quickly became very warm and by the time we reached Gloucester, which had reached about a hundred and thirty five degrees, we were hot as. Anyway we stripped down fort the final leg.

From Gloucester to home was uneventful but hot. Nobody pointed out how much cooler it might have been had we left a bit earlier. Best of all, five went out together and five came home together. And as for the “Where’s Tajna Memorial Ride” part of our adventure – Well to be honest we forgot to stop at the point of impact to pay our respects. Actually, none of us were real sure where it was anyway.