greenery of New South Wales.
Most of the ride participants looked a little bemused as we stood in small groups at the Nicholls starting station. Perhaps it was the mildly early start for a slightly longer ride that had them puzzled, or perhaps it was just the brisk morning air that had them wondering why they hadn’t stayed in bed.
Ride Leader Ian rose from the mist of bedazzlement to let us know that we should follow him,because he was Ride Leader. That bit made eminent sense, but the rest of the explanation appeared to contain too many legislative requirements for rolling corner markers and maintaining spatial awareness and individual responsibilities that the assembled menagerie simply nodded robotically and started dressing for the parade.
I am desperately trying to think of something good to say about that short stretch of road between Canberra and the Boorowa turnoff. Alas, the best I can come up with is that it is indeed short-enough to be tolerable. Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. We all safely negotiated 30 minutes of utter boredom to the Boorowa turnoff. Ride leader Ian was still leading, the followers were still following, nothing exciting had occurred so far, so the world was at peace and I was deep in thought about other things. My thoughts wandered on the track to Boorowa. Or did they wander off the track to Boorowa? You shouldn’t allow that when riding a motorcycle. Dangerous things you know.
Anyway, I remembered a conversation I overheard recently. It goes like this: A bloke called Ian was feeling a bit sick a few weeks back, so he went to see his doctor and decided to get something else checked out while he was there. Ian tells the doctor, "Every time I fart, it sounds like a Honda Goldwing”. Surprised at this revelation, the doctor tells Ian to pull down his pants and bend over. As
he does so, Ian farts and sure enough, it sounds just like a Honda Goldwing. The doctor immediately says to Ian, "I know the problem - you've got an abscess up your arse." Ian was clearly shocked!
"What?” he says. “Surely an abscess can't make my farts sound like my motorcycle?" The doctor leans closer and quietly says to Ian, "Didn't you know? Abscess makes the fart go Honda!"
Munchies and brews were good at Boorowa. They seem to have picked up their game at the Superb Bakery lately. It was busy, but the service speed was ok, and the quality of coffee has definitely gone up a notch or two. Pies, pasties and sausage rolls washed down with a caffeine fix. How good is that! We finished our morning repast and slowly wandered outside to the waiting bikes. I wonder what our bikes would think about the time spent outside eateries if they had a mind, heart and soul? Built to travel, they probably wonder why they have so much stationary time away from home. Fill me up and run me until my tank is empty! But then, inanimate objects don’t have a mind, heart or soul, so that’s a silly thought.
We snaked our way along the sweeping roads to Cowra via the convict-built cobblestone road through Frogmore. Well, that’s what it feels like in places. Rough or not, it’s always a welcome change to be off the beaten track a smidge. Do you know what a ‘smidge’ is? It’s an abbreviation for a ‘Smidgen’ which is half a pinch (1/32 of a teaspoon) of something. You can actually purchase a Smidgen measuring spoon. Trust me. I know stuff. There was no need to jostle for a parking spot at the Japanese War Cemetery. Visiting dead people from decades past is clearly not a crowd-gathering exercise. Lovely spot though. There are lots of beautiful trees and walkways. We all had a quick
look around and fell into small groups to chat about stuff. Bikers are good at chatting about stuff.
The recent influx of new and returning members means lots of new stuff gets talked about. My neighbour often talks about stuff too. Last week he told me that one of his dogs ate all the Scrabble tiles. For days he kept leaving little messages around the house. We eventually toddled off to the Railway Hotel for lunch. Most of the stuff discussed over lunch was better than that. We are a social lot. Andrew regaled us with more California stories until we made him sit in the corner and be quiet. Jealousy is a curse.
The food was up to the usual standard. I’m not saying that it was great all-round, but it served its purpose for me and most cleared their plates. That’s a bonus. Unfortunately, it became clear that the staff are dyslexic and possibly blind, have painted-on ears and zero concept of luncheon etiquette. Some got their meals early, some a little bit later, and one not at all. It was also pot-luck if the meal received was exactly as ordered! Ian’s Mexican burger was not made by any Mexicans, had absolutely no Mexican ingredients in it, and did not remotely come from the instructions associated with any Mexican recipe. However, he did eat it all, so I don’t know what he was whining about. It was a lengthy break, so a refuel on the way out was called and we embarked on a much busier ride home via the main track between Cowra and Boorowa.
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| Ian considers the consequences of one too many jalapenos |
There was little excitement for the ride home. It was just a lot of traffic that spread the group far and wide all the way to Canberra, so here ends the Ride Report. Great company, well-behaved bikes, top Ride Leadership from Ian (of course) and no Honda farts or little messages made it an excellent day
out. Its nice to see a few new bods joining in the fun, but it seems to be many of the same old faces on these rides. Where is everybody?
Participants for this journey were:
- Ride Leader Ian (Honda GL1800),
- Kevin Sherman (GL1800)
- Mike Kelly (R1200RT)
- Neil McRitchie (GTR1400)
- Les Robinson (Triumph Trophy)
- Andrew Campbell (FJR1300)
- Dave Jones (XT1200)
- John Grace (Tiger 1200)
- Helen & Jo Dutton (VW Polo)
- Scribe Mick Beltrame (R1250GS)
