An Un-Lucky Ride
We went for a ride. It was good. Lucky didn’t come. We rode home. It was good, too.
Rocky made it to Denman too.
It turned out to be a very good ride. Moey and Nige got a bit of drizzle between Broke and Freeman’s Waterhole while, from a few desperate messages, it would appear that the other two splitters had a more ‘interesting ride’ home.
Old and buggered (no, not that sort of buggered).
When is a Triumph not??
Me and Lucky Philip Leo Mark Witton were riding along and then one of us wasn’t …. riding along like we were doing …. you know, on the road …. riding along and then we stopped …. riding along. The road kept going but we didn’t. Not on the road because we were not riding along anymore … or less really. We’d stopped riding and started parking … on the side of the road where it is difficult to be riding …. along the road.
“Mind how you go”
“Whatcha gunna do”?
Splitters Ride to Wauchope August 2022
It was good. We had fun.
We rode there and then we rode home again, riding all the way on our motorbikes and having fun.
Lucky’s Little Cough August 2022
“ROLL CALL!!!!!!” Shouted Lucky. ” cfff cfff.”
“Dry up Numbnuts. We don’t need a roll call.” Nige announced recalling the last unenthusiastic and somewhat aggressive stance from FairyDust.
“But how will we know whose here?” replied Lucky.
“Look around Numbnuts” Nige scowled.
“PRESENT!!” shouted Lucky
“That wasn’t a roll call…uhmm call” Nige said beginning to lose his usual cool. “And what’s that spluttering little cough about? Its annoying me so stop it”
“I’m ok, just a little tickle, cfff cfff ”
“I’m heading out you two” Interrupted Moey. “Don’t make me regret meshing up to either of you”
“Right you are Unky Momo” Lucky replied as the three headed out from the Turf Hut.
Meshing up reluctantly
Anyway, Nige was keen this time because it was the first long ride on his new GSA. Lucky took Golden Boy since his Tiger was waiting for tyres, brakes, rear shock, and fork seals. Meanwhile, Moey was on his newish “Geeser” and looking forward to a late night of beering with Lucky. Sadly, he was to be disappointed.
Now the dodgy bit of road between Wollombi and Broke has washed away after heavy rains so we turned right at the Wollombi pub and cut out through Cessnock and around to the Golden Highway. Lucky had upgraded his Sena 10 to a 50s which used mesh technology so all three riders could chat at the same time.
“It’s like being on the Starship Enterprise cfff cfff” said Lucky “I’ll be Captain Kirk, you can be Scotty Unky Momo, and Nige can be …uhmmm… Lieutenant Uhura”
“Shut up Lucky, I’m Kirk because I’m the president of the Nige Outlaw Motorcycle Gang,” said Nige “You’re Uhura”
“Nuh-uh, she’s a girl”
“Well, I’m not Scotty either” interjected Moey. “He’s an anachronism. If Star Trek is based that far in the future then natural mixing of world races would have blended all humans into one race by then so a Scotsman would not have existed.”
The conversation faded from this point and silence apart from the occasional ” cfff cfff” from Lucky.
A quick pie in Denman then on to Merriwa then back roads to Coolah.
Golden Boy is still magnificent after all these years.
Again, a quick coffee and a lovely vanilla slice with pink icing and on to Gunnedah, arriving at about 4.30.
Rooms this time were pretty abysmal. They were on the ground floor with a shared bathroom which the bartender suggested we avoid because “The kitchen staff use that and they’re pretty disgusting.” Now, upon reflection, perhaps we should have considered dining elsewhere given that little tidbit but we didn’t. Actually, the meals were pretty good and Moey thought his steak was “Grilled by angels” Lucky thought his was ok but maybe a bit bland. Nige complained about something or other but the other two didn’t pay him any attention.
Around 8 we sauntered over to McDonald’s to see if we could repeat Dusty’s epic victory of a free thick shake there on the last ride. Somehow Moey (or was it Nige) did score something free but nobody was sure how that happened. Lucky didn’t even try to high-five anyone as he was beginning to feel “a bit weary” probably because he hadn’t ridden Golden Boy on a long ride for a few years.
Back to the pub for another few beers when Lucky announced he was “Really tired” and was heading off to bed.
“Get your lazy arse back here right now! It’s 8.30 for f%^$#’s sake and I need someone to watch me drink my sugar-free cokes” Nige demanded.
“Yes, Nige keep talking. I’m very interested in what you are saying cfff cfff ” Said Lucky as he headed off to his broom closet bedroom. Later that night he got up to go to the bathroom and found his bed soaking wet. “Well that’s odd,” he thought. “I wonder what happened there.” Morning came around and Lucky, now refreshed after a good night’s sleep, mused to the others, “Do you think I’ve got the Corvette 19?” “That’s the bad one. I think the earlier versions 1 to 18 were ok but this one is pretty dangerous!” His appetite seemed unaffected, however, as he scoffed down a big brekky special. “I’m actually feeling good now” He went on to tell nobody who cared.
“Yep, I’m cured,” said Lucky. And Unky Momo was so happy to hear that.
Around 9 we headed out over the Breeza Planes so Nige could check out the top speed of his now run-in GSA.
“She’ll do 222,” He said confidently but was shattered when the speedo wouldn’t climb above 208.
“Yewwwww” yelled Moey as he sailed past him. Lucky, with nothing to prove on the mighty Busa, was content to sit behind Nige and reinforce his disappointing discovery. “Yep. 208 Nige. That is all you got. You must feel bad.”
“Enough with the truncated sentences designed to highlight my distraught reaction to this German shitbox of a thing,” Nige said. ” No wonder they lost that war….. and the one before it”
“Maybe a Tiger would have been the best choice mate.” offered Lucky warily. Nige, almost boiling with rage by now, said no more about the subject.
Back in Denman for the last leg home. GSA unharmed from any high speed (Over 208kph) insect strikes.
A few hours later, coffee at Jerry’s and all went home. Lucky, still with a little persistent cough, would test positive for the spicy cough and have a lovely week off work. Moey stayed disease free and Nige, brooding a little less about his GSA’s inability to achieve speeds he considered obligatory, took it home, cleaned and polished it in the hope it would encourage just a few more KPH’s out of it. It didn’t.
Just Three to Gunnedah. May 2022
It’s been raining. And raining. And raining. For months now. A lot of rides have been cancelled including Boris’ Snowy Mountain Run despite several changed dates and we were sick of it. So, finally, a two-day window appeared that promised clear skies for most of those two days. It wasn’t much but it was a chance. Boris was back in England by now, Rocky was up to his English armpits in meetings and Moey was having carpet laid. (That sounds a bit metaphorical but wasn’t) That left Nige, Dusty, Lucky and David as confirmed. On that basis, and the usual gentleman’s agreement implied handshake, Nige kindly booked four rooms on his credit card. Sadly, David’s eyeball imploded for some reason so he pulled out at the last minute and didn’t come. (That’s tautology right there. Oooh and also a bit metaphorically rude when you think about it.)
Anyway, we agreed to meet this time at the Turf Hut. Nice coffee and Sharne, the coffee girl, remembered Lucky and Dusty as her favourite teachers in high school. No offers of a discount however so we found that a bit disingenuous. “Right roll call” started Nige as usual.
“Present” replied Lucky without waiting for his name to be called.
“Not yet you idiot!!” Nige could barely suppress his anger. “LUCKY” He shouted.
“PRESENT” shouted Lucky back with just as much enthusiasm as before.
“FairyDust!!” Nige called, forgetting we don’t call the hard man that name anymore.
“Don’t make me kill you Nigel”
“Right. I’ll count that as here then” said Nige quietly.
Beaming sunshine accompanied us out past Jerry’s. Ride Leader Lucky (Self Appointed) spotted one of his old mates, Pete, coming the other way on his Hardly Davistown along Yarramalong Rd and waved exuberantly at him as they passed. “There’s Pete,” he told Dusty over the intercom. “He’s a good bloke.” But Big Pete was far too busy fighting the 300 odd kilos of oil dripping, petrol gulping, power lacking, misrepresentation of motorcycling to notice his old mate. “I’ll rouse on him next time I see him,” said Lucky to his wide audience of one. “He should have waved.” “I thought they only waved to other Hardly Davistown riders,” Dusty replied. “One day those walls will come down,” replied Lucky sombrely but didn’t really care either way.
Topped up at Broke as usual and headed on to Denman for lunch. Nige was starving and had a whole can of diet coke. Dusty had some delightful Arancini balls, and Lucky had a prawn fettuccini. All lovely.
Starving
Not starving
Because the road out to Willow Tree was still belly up in the gully beside the mountain, we didn’t turn at Merriwa and kept north up to the right turn towards Coolah. A pretty decent pace and coffee at Coolah by 3. Now the kindly shopkeep was only too pleased to hold his closing time past 3 in the hope of gouging the city boys of their cash for all kinds of country treats. He was disappointed. However, we did meet old “Pothole” who was keen to tell Dusty all about his super-interesting life and all the different kinds of “Motee bikes” he may or may not have had over the years. Then he’d walk away and sit somewhere else then come back to resume his conversation to a politely disinterested Dusty whilst Nige and Lucky watched on. “Jeeezus Lucky, where do we find these people and why do they have to regale us with their rustic tales of woe?” Nige moaned “Is it just me? Or is it you? Do we look that desperate for the company?” “Well, it’s not me” Said Lucky. “He’s sucking the life out of Dusty though so we’d best head out.” Apparently, he was called Pothole because everyone in town tried to avoid him.
“So anyway young fella, when i was a lad I road a BSA Wonton which was the fashion of the time….and my girl Gladys thought I was just the cats pyjamas and a 23 Skidoo kiddo. Yes Indeedy!!
Putting that all behind us we headed on across the Breeza Plains and into Gunnedah. The light was fading a little by the time we arrived but parking around the side was easy and we headed for a lazy beer before dinner. We talked about manly things for a while and headed across the road for a late night Maccas coffee and apple pie. Due to some administrative error, Dusty got his drink, a thick shake from memory, for free and we cheered loudly and agreed we’d “Stuck it to the man.”
“Yeah man, we’re like a real outlaw motorcycle gang now” yipped Lucky, high-fiving anyone who’d high-five him back, which was no one.
“Don’t say “man” Lucky. We’re not hippies, we’re outlaw motorcylists and I’m the president” Nige said but was beaming with pride all the same at our new self-recognised-crazy-one-percenter image. “I might put real sugar in my coffee next time and not even blow on my hot apple pie before I bite into it”
“No Nige. Why that’s crazy talk! Think of the calories and the burnies if you did that” Lucky said with concern as the adrenaline rush faded.
“Yeah, Nuh. Maybe you’re right. But I could if I wanted!!”
Dusty, the real hero of this caper, licked his lips as the last of his ill-gotten chocolate thick shake disappeared. “And that boys, is how you do it!” So much street cred earned right there. Lucky threw another high five in his direction but Dusty was looking elsewhere so Lucky hit nothing but fresh air.
Anyway, after that, we headed off to bed and both Lucky and Dusty slept well. Nige must have still been buzzing with excitement because he reported very little sleep. He instead arose early and wandered the streets of Gunnedah taking pictures of things we had only heard rumours of whilst we were hidden away in the Gunnedah Hotel. Wondrous things. Shops.
“They were awesome boys. And you could park right out front. What a place!” He said, “And I found em on my wondrous journey.” Nige excitedly recounted when we met for breakfast.
“Yeah, I seen shops before” Yawned Dusty.
Breakfast in the main street in some little cafe was good. We’ve eaten there before so no surprises. We avoided the one where the cook went missing that time, Jack and Jill’s I think because Boris wasn’t there to express our disappointment at the poor service.
“I miss Boris,” said Lucky sadly “He always knew what to say and how to say it,”
“Yeah, Nuh I can yell at people too!!” replied Nige loudly, outraged at Lucky’s comment.
“Yes but Boris spoke words that didn’t offend everyone and didn’t throw his cutlery at the wait staff” Lucky pointed out. “He was a gentleman”
“Boris is still alive right?” Dusty interjected.
“Yes but he’s in England” Both Nige and Lucky said in unison, struggling to believe their own words.
“Poor bastard,” a shocked Dusty said and added in hushed tones “When did that happen?”
“Pretty recently,” said Lucky “We all knew that eventually he’d be gone. The signs were all there. We just never expected it to be so sudden.”
The men sat quietly for a few moments then, reflecting on the tenuous nature of being.
“Vale old mate” Lucky mumbled quietly.
“Shut up numbnuts,” Nige’s quivering voice said. “At least he’s still alive”
“Is he Nige? Is he?” said Dusty shaking his head sorrowfully.
Anyway, a sombre breakfast followed and a dark cloud still hovered over the three as they headed out to pack for the ride home. Literally. It was about to start pouring.
Why am I sad. I’ve never met Boris. Still pretty awful for him but.
England!! Jeezus! Makes ya think yeah nuh. He still had some good years left. Amen.
Lucky tries to cheer Nige up for the long wet ride home.
Did I mention it rained? Well, it did. A lot. Happily, Dusty and Lucky were wearing good wet weather gear and stayed dry all the way back past Denman despite the torrential conditions. Nige was not so lucky. At some point, he began complaining, no surprises there, that his foot was soaked. It turned out that his Rossi boots, to which he had some kind of emotional connection, that had had the sole glued back on several times, finally gave way under the onslaught of the monsoonal downpour and parted ways with the boot itself. Lucky and Dusty found this hilarious because it hadn’t happened to them.
We finally arrived back at Jerry’s around three for the usual teary farewells. We didn’t know it then but it turned out to be Nige’s last big ride on the old Beemer as a new shiny one with his name on it was slowly wending its way to Worthington BMW. Will he treat it with the same level of cruelty he showed his old one or will this one be given an occasional wash and some kind of shelter much nicer than lying sideways in a garden bed? We will see.
By the way, DD did settle his debt re the room payment to Nige under the Gentleman’s Agreement Bi-Law so will be permitted to maintain his active member status in the club.
A way Better Report Than Nige’s on Bathurst November 2021
Nige, Moey, and Lucky were enjoying Maccas coffees in the new year when Lucky raised the issue of Nige’s ride report, submitted by him under Lucky’s name, about their recent Bathurst ride
“You don’t write the reports about our adventures Nige, I do!!!” Lucky began, visibly upset.
“Oh dry up you big baby. It was a detailed report and included the major points. Did you notice I mentioned the ice cream?”
” Nuh, it was terrible. You didn’t establish context, or character development, or characters, or plot development, or plot, and there was no careful use of language techniques, especially a sad lack of onomatopoeia and hyperbole. Nor did you weave some clever dialogue throughout which might have breathed some life into your sad, sad, commentary. It was disgraceful wasn’t it fellas?” Out of breath by now, Lucky turned to his biggest supporter, Moey, but he’d tactically withdrawn and was closely studying his giant butterscotch latte and iced vo-vo. “The ice cream part had some merit” He commented.
“Yeah ok that part was pretty good” Lucky conceded. “But the rest was horrible.”
“Oh for f#$^’s sake Lucky. Seriously?” “I gave you a direct order to write that report weeks ago and you still haven’t done it. Fine, you write it and make sure you mention all the stuff I did and how wonderful I am as leader”
“Good, I will. I happen to have brought my laptop along so I’ll do it right now and I don’t want any interruptions. Now where to begin, where to begin. I’ve forgotten most of it.”
“Start at the Milk Factory Luckmeister” Offered Moey. “Start off by telling how Dave took off ahead without permission”
“That’s right. Thanks Uncy Momo. I’ll start there…………
It was sunny and warm when we all gathered together at The Milk Factory for our first ride out after the Covid Lockdown and the regions were finally welcoming visitors from ground zero, Central Coast. Moey had recently bought his new slightly used BMW GSA that was all shiny and sparkly with a fair amount of added “Farckle” just to annoy Nige.
“Totally gay” Nige interjected.
Lucky had removed the protective covering from Redboy the Explorer revealing a brilliant lustre of high gloss paint, disconnected the trickle charger, and was also keen to head west.
Nige had found his GSA where he left it lying on its side in the front garden many months earlier. Pulling the geraniums and lengths of Kikuyu from between the frame and forks and evicting a family of possums that had taken up residence between motor and fuel tank, it was eventually coaxed into life after a few friendly spanks with his old shovel kept precisely for that purpose.
” I call it The Persuader.” Nige again. Lucky looked up from the keyboard to see Nige smirking at his own joke. Regardless, he kept typing….
Now Dave came too and promised Lucky he’d bring the Triumph Jacket along on the next ride for Lucky as per our gentleman’s agreement. His orange Versys shone in the sun like a giant mandarine. “Wait out front for me boys whilst I empty my prostate” And wait we did.
About half an hour later we all began to worry that the old boy might have had a mishap vis-a-vis his down-belows so Nige, who was most concerned, rode around back to find his mate. “He’s not here!!! He’s taken off ahead! He wants to be ride leader! Well not on my watch!!! I’m Ride leader and president of this outlaw motorcycle club and will lead… from second position. Lucky, you go ahead”
We finally caught up to Dave at the bottom of Bumble Hill and dropped him back to caboose position where he remained for the most part. “Sorry fellas. I just wanted to see what it felt like up front. Won’t happen again.” And it didn’t.
Anyway, the usual roads and stopover at Denman for lunch. Boris wasn’t with us on this trip so the Sealy Posturepeadic sized steaks remained refrigerated till his next visit. The rest of us ate sparingly although lucky tried one of those spicy chicken burgers that nearly killed Nige several trips earlier.
“I remember them. They were killer hot” Nige reflected.
“Mild at best” Lucky responded.
On to Rylstone. Moey decided to open up his new slightly used GSA “I call her The Geezer” up the hills between Bylong and Rylstone with the rest of us pushing to stay with him. “Carn Lucky, he’s getting away!” Roared Nige through the intercom. “He’s using his quick-shifter Nige. That’s not fair!” “You either stay up or you’re dismissed as ride-leader-self-elected.”
We arrived in Rylstone around 2 for fuel and coffee.
Still fuming over Dave’s early departure from The Milk Factory.
Dave seemingly unphased by Nige’s seething anger.
Enjoying the show.
At this point Lucky glanced over to see if Nige was listening to his new report. “Losing interest Lucky. Talk about the mountain.”….
Off we went to Bathurst with the usual trek up Mt Paranoia so Nige could check out Barnaby’s campsite for the upcoming car races. Views were much the same again but we noticed the word Bathurst had been removed from the circuit’s Hillside White-Stone sign. Then it was the traditional lose our way to the Knickerbocker. Then the usual try to slip the bikes between the boom-gate and fence until the bottle shop guy eventually opened it for us.
Mt Paranoia with nice clouds.
The Knickerbocker opened up to us with some enthusiasm. “Over there for QR Codes, show us yer Double Vaxxes, payment in advance, shower for lice upstairs, etc” We had some beers but not Nige who is still on his no-alchohol thing. Dinner was good. Some had those chicken wings like last time and made a complete mess of themselves. Lucky and Moey had salads with stuff on the side which was pretty good too. The pub had recently been sold and handover was this weekend. At around 7 we wandered off for a walk to that ice-cream parlour…..
“Gonna stop you there Lucky. I already wrote about this in my report.”
“Right. Sorry Nige”
“Sorright. Carry on with the story”
Okay. Everybody had a good sleep except Nige and woke to sunny skies. Breakfast was again, excellent.
Nice.Delicious.
Out back of the Knickerbocker again. “Yep Geezer is a great name don’t you think Lucky”
Heading out at around 9 back the same way. Nobody had to fuel up since Rylstone was a mere 70 mins or so away so off we went. Good roads and decent riding got us there just after 10.
Strangely, there was no grace before meals here.
Back to Jerrys via the farms at the back of Denman. The dirt road over the hill was pretty dodgy from the recent rains but nobody fell off so that was good. Moey gave The Geezer a happy thumbs up then headed north from Broke. Dave had had enough of us by Kulnura and rode straight home so Nige and Lucky had time for a quick cuddle at Jerrys before also heading home. The end.
“My report is waaaay better’n yours Lucky” Nige piped in. “I would OF included all aspects of the bucolic surrounds and the verdant scenery.” As an afterthought he asked “Also do you remember what Cumudgeonly means?” barely suppressing a snigger.
“Oh um yeh nuh, nuh, wait…nuh. what is it again?”
“Look it up numbnuts because I’ve told you about a thousand times and I’m not telling you again!!”
“Alright, alright. Geez you’re getting cranky in your old age” an embarrassed Lucky retorted.
“Good ok, finally. Correct”
“What?”
Bathurst after the last Bathurst but before Nige went again…to Bathurst.
We went for a ride to Bathurst.
It was pretty good and nice.
Some people went and some of those had ice cream.
We came home.
Some even came ALL the way…..home.
Did I mention that it was good? Well….pretty good.
And nice?
Nige’s Little Op. May 2021
“Lucky, we’re going on a ride….and it might be my last!!” said Nige, “but don’t worry, I might be ok.”
“I wasn’t worried,” replied Lucky. “What ride?”
“Yeah nuh, I’m pretty sick Lucky and I have asked DD for some special prayers.”
“Is it the Aids?”
“Nuh!”
“Corvett 19? That’s a bad one.”
“Yeah Nuh it’s the hernias Lucky,” Nige replied in whispered tones. “And I fear for my life.”
“Can I have your Beemer then? Hey Moey, Nige is having a hysterectomy and he said I can have his bike if he doesn’t pull through.”
“PIG’S ARSE!!!!” Moey bellowed back. “I’m having it. I’ve endured him for years. I’ve earned it!!”
“Shut up you two knuckleheads,” shouted Nige over the top of all this. “Neither of youse can have it. I’m being entombed with it!”
Both knuckleheads seemed satisfied with that so plans moved on as to where the ride might go. Gunnedah.
“I’m out anyway,” Moey confessed later. “It’s Old Sir Fallapart.”
“What’s wrong with Old Sir Fallapart?” asked Lucky with concern.
“Well … he fell apart.”
With Moey up to his elbows in OSF’s icky bits, DD doing God’s work, Barnaby embroiled in an episode of “Orange is the New Black” or something, Rocky working through his retirement years and Dusty still in his final year of employment, that left Nige, Lucky and Boris to carry the flag.
It was cold, of course, when we left Jerry’s and had our first stop at Broke for fuel. When Nige went off for a wee, Lucky spoke quietly to Boris about Nige’s little op. “It’s a hysterectomy Boris and it’s in three parts. His testicles, uterus, and ovaries I think,” leaving Boris somewhat perplexed about Lucky’s understanding of anatomy. “No more babies for Nige now mate.” Lucky added.
“Are you completely sure about that Lucky? It might be a hernia operation you know,” Boris said. “They’re pretty common and should avoid mucking around with the old boy’s tadger.”
At this point, Nige returned and Lucky saw the two of them giggling together and pointing at him. “Easing his pain with humour I suppose,” Lucky assumed. “What a nice man”
“Look at that brave soldier?” thought Lucky. “I hope he’s amending certain details of his will in my favour.”
Onwards to Denman with RL Lucky in his usual position out front (self-elected). Nige refusing to speak to him. for some unknown reason, but Boris and Lucky had a delightful conversation anyway. Nige was on a special no-food diet prior to his little op so drank a healthy ‘No Sugar Coke’ and any question about his presidency was quickly dispelled when he brought out the can.
Looking pretty pleased with himself. “Still in charge of all of youse. Read the can numb nuts!”
Meanwhile, Boris had his usual steak the size of a sofa lounge and Lucky had a delightful prawn fettuccine. Lucky helped Boris finish off the last of the red meat as a sign of great friendship.
Full as a fat lady’s sock.
Now, the usual route over the hills past Willow Tree was washed away. Sad because it was that brand new, finally-all-bitumen section that promised to improve over time. Now it’s all in the gully below. Pity. So we kept north and headed inland over the Breezer Plains and the cotton fields now in full bloom and transients everywhere ready to bale it up and pick our pockets at the same time. That was according to Boris from memory. Nevertheless, we only stopped once when some sheep blocked the road. We kept our hand over our wallets just to be safe.
“Sheepses!” said Lucky
Anyway, we arrived in Gunnedah around fourish and headed to the bar for a couple before showers. That done we headed upstairs to our single-rooms-no-en-suites. Those cotton-picking transients were in town and had the best rooms. The shared bathrooms were empty and we never spotted anyone in them at any time. Odd. Mind you, they may have risen around four to head out but those bathroom floors and showers were suspiciously dry at all times. The ladies toilets next to Lucky’s room, however, were particularly pungent and made his eyes water every time he entered his room as any odours clearly metamorphosed themselves through his wall. So those toilets clearly had plenty of visitors. Anyhoo, we all went back downstairs and shared beers and whatnot (Nige was drinking the whatnots) and had dinner. It was ok. Boris went off to bed around tenish whilst Lucky and Nige wandered over the road to Maccas for coffee and apple pie.
Next morning was cold. Nige woke up about three hours before he thought he had and went off for a walk. After about 50 kilometres, he realised his error and found his way back to meet up with Boris who had wandered off down to the river and Lucky who didn’t. A few complaints there but on par.
Back of the pub in sunshine but really very cold.
Warming up.
The ride home was the usual with lots of bends and varying speeds to suit. The back of Denman was, as usual, particularly fun. We finally landed at Jerry’s around three. Nige seemed to be having a little trouble getting his leg over his bike. “Is that because of your distended womb Nige?” asked Lucky. “Is that why you’re having the hysterectomy?” At which point Nige looked despondently at the ground, resigned to accept that there was no point correcting Lucky any further. “Yes Lucky, that’s why.”
“Don’t look at me Lucky. I’m just tired.”
On a happy note, Nige survived his little op, Moey has new needles for Old Sir Fallapart and DD has probably saved more souls. Hopefully, they will be ready next time.
Only Four? Bathurst April 21
“Nuh, I’m not going and neither is Brian!!”
“Yeah but Nige!” whined Lucky, “That only leaves four of us for the ride.”
“Yeah! nuh! wrong!. The ride is cancelled! There will be no ride. I repeat…. no ride!!”
So four of us met at Jerry’s on the first week of the school holidays for the ride. Fairy Dust now called Dusty because the other name was totally unsuitable for a hard core man, Lucky, Boris and Rocky. It was raining heavily that day but lightened up till we got to Broke. Then it thundered down upon us. We waited twenty minute or so then Ride Leader Lucky or RL as he became affectionately known (Not out loud by anyone) led out to Denman. Given the conditions the ride was still quick enough and interesting. Dusty and Lucky chatted away happily right up to the Royal Hotel in Denman for lunch.
On arrival Boris had to admit that his wet weather gear was much better at holding the water on the inside than actually stopping it from getting there. His BMW Costalot boots were also filled to the brim. Rocky was in similar conditions plus his BMW Priceyas bag was now a travelling aquarium. “This happened last time as I recall” he noted. “Might pen a letter of complaint to Herr Lostthewar or whoever and register a stern complaint from her majesty’s servant” He hasn’t done that yet.
Lunch was good with Boris inhaling his usual rare steak and Lucky doing the same. The other two ate healthy like, you know, Salmon or mung beans or something. I don’t recall.
Dusty enjoying being dry like Lucky but not like Boris and Rocky.
Leaving Denman, disaster!!! Wait, that should be in upper case to highlight what a disaster this was…DISASTER!!!!!. A small drop of water had somehow found it’s way between the microphone hole and cover of Lucky’s intercom which meant Dusty could not hear Lucky’s witty commentary or extracts from his novel-in-progress Phil Witton’s Collective Thoughts on Everything. Lucky could hear Dusty of course and had two hours of him describing every corner. “Right knee out, push down on bar, gentle pressure on tank, easy, easy, Oh well done sirrah!!” every corner plus coughs and sneezes and grunt and groans over the bumpy bits.” Of course it never occurred to Lucky to just switch over to music and, besides, it became quite soothing after a while. Every now and then Dusty would make a suggestion or observation which Lucky could reply with a hand signal so that was ok. We rode in and out of heavy rain and then we were in Bathurst. RL Lucky found The Knickerbocker first go and was totally proud of his accomplishment. “That’s why they call me RL said Lucky to nobody listening.
Dinner was at the Irish pub and Lucky shouted hoping they would all order soup. They didn’t. Dusty had a Beef and Burgundy Pie which he said could captain the “Mighty Eels” and told everyone that that is all they’re allowed to order next visit. No arguments from us.
Boris and Rocky at lunch. Both managed to top this up with a decent sized dinner as well.
Breakfast was good. Still no Eva who has retired and not died of anything at all as we were led to believe. The cook actually made some pretty decent poached eggs so we hailed him a hero.
The ride home was much nicer with clear skies most of the way to the coast. Some trouble from a black Hyundai SUV out near Sofala which was driving erratically and tailgating Boris. RL wisely pulled the group over to let this idiot go but then he just stayed a hundred metres ahead of us anyway so we didn’t really get the point of his fussing about. Usual coffees at Jerrys and off we all went. On a happy note, Boris’ new red Triumph Tiger 900 went like a bought one.