|A great roll-up of bikes but a slight balls-up of start-time.|
It seemed to be a bit ho-hum for the gathering of groupies assembled at the Nicholls servo for the short run to Bowning. They chatted animatedly amongst themselves while the ride leader did what ride leaders do, although the confused mind of the ever-graceful Peter appeared unclear and we all wondered if we were going to Bowning, Binalong, Bookham, Bairnsdale, Bathurst or Birdsville. It started with a ‘B’, so we decided that follow-the-leader might work. It was clear that the groupies were there for the company, not the excitement of this exceptionally short journey, so the chatter was loud and hands were constantly moving to reinforce some point or another in the stories being told. Or they were just shooing away the morning flies and other bugs. By the way, the ‘groupie’ nomenclature is not a dig at the lustful nature of the leader’s adoring fan club, merely the tactless recognition that a group of bikers following a handsome leader must be groupies by loose definition. Have I lost you yet? Read on. There are more words to follow. We’ll get to the ride part of the ride report in due course.
|Chas: ‘The ride brief stinks’. Peter: ‘I’ll hang my head in shame’.|
Charging along at a good clip I thought the group was being very well-behaved. So much so in fact, that I said to myself and the nearby sheep; “It looks as though the corner-marking system is working well for a change”. I didn’t respond to my thoughts. That would have indicated a streak of insanity. Besides, there were few corners that actually needed marking, especially as there weren’t many to negotiate and an earlier decision to forgo corner marking had been made for this abbreviated run. No corner markers and no tail. How would we survive? The back-road to Bowning is sealed but rough in places. It’s not an exciting run, other than for the pleasant views along the way and the dearth of vehicles and people. Nor is it a boring run. It’s just a run, thus being eminently suitable for meeting the previously used low-spice and non-varietal descriptor for the ride. Have I lost you again? I’m trying. Very trying according to some people, but I digress from the ride report.
Sometimes it’s good to take a diversion. We do that often on our Ulysses rides. Sometimes, we all take the diversion. Sometimes it’s just the errant few. The interesting diversions are when the tail arrives at a junction just behind the ride leader, and most of the riders in the middle have gone walk-about. A diversion from whatever it is I’m supposed to be reporting is also good. It makes a dull report less dull. The well-behaved groupies obediently followed the leader hither and thither until we reached our designated destination for lunch. We all made it to lunch. That’s always a bonus. The chosen pub was reasonably quiet, so the wait for food was short and the food itself was fine. It became even finer once chewed, swallowed, processed by several metres of intestine and dissolved by gastric juices. Are we still hungry? I’m not. At the very least, an imperial gallon of assorted liquids and a small truckload of tasty luncheon delights were devoured by those attending.
|Order last and get served first? What gives? (Great food!)|
|How many $$$ are parked outside the Pub?|
We didn’t all head for the bikes and leave. A few chose the coffee option down the street at the Mews, while others headed for home and lawn-mowing or sock-drawer rearranging. A few of us took the opportunity to have a chat with an old local named Karl. He was on a 1989 Honda 200 cc bike attached to a ‘Tuk-Tuk’ style of cargo cart with three wheels, dubious brakes, and road-registered. Karl was 91 years old and still riding. We can only hope that’s us as we grow older. He seemed to be pretty sharp, and admired the collection of shiny machines with a glint in his eye. Or was that a tear or two?
|91 years young Karl and the Tuk-Tuk.|
Garry and I, along with Ian, headed for Boorowa, where we lost Ian for a bit, before continuing to Crookwell, Taralga for a coffee, and then Goulburn and Gunning and on to home. It was a spirited ride with Garry, and topped an enjoyable day out even though Ian decided that Crookwell was the limit of his ride and headed home alone from there. On a stretch where I was leading I came upon a branch lying across the road. The very, very large goanna soon decided to reverse course (thankfully) and scurried away. Its smaller sibling was 20 metres up the road and less of a worry. The large echidna that took us on was also dodged by me, but Garry decided to vie for the ISAEASTMI Award ‘I Spotted An Echidna And Stopped To Move It’ and disappeared from my mirrors. I waited a minute or two at the Crookwell junction where he arrived with newly aerated gloves. It was a good day out. It’s hard to complain about good company, good food and a good ride.
And so ends the reporting of another successful Ulysses outing where the food was only surpassed by the company, the shininess of the bikes and the odour of spent gasoline and hot engines. Your charming ride leader for this run was Peter Arday on the NT700. Job well done by my reckoning. We rarely have ladies as ride leaders. Why is that? I’m hallucinating again. Better get back on track and figure out the hieroglyphics that identify the unidentifiable. I wasn’t tail of course, because we didn’t have one, but I did do the scribing. I rode my still-shiny R1200GSLC.
The other groupies, in no particular order other than Christian name alphabetical were:
- Alan & Lyn Munday – FJR1300
- Andrew Campbell – FJR1300
- Chas Towie – ST1300
- Chris Dietzel – GTR1400
- Daryl Palin – GL1800
- Errol Pentland – Roadliner
- Garry McCurley – VFR1200
- Genelle Mills – Triumph Bonnie
- Ian Paterson – GL1800
- Jeff Jarvis – Softail Delux
- John Barratt – R1200GS
- Kim Tito – F700GS
- Les Robinson – Triumph Trophy
- Mick and Tracey Winters – Triumph Trophy
- Mike Kelly – Triumph 1600
- Ron Tito – R1200GS
Until next time. Mick B.