|
|
Aberdeen Mag -12th Stri Son Saorsa Rally & Demo Run 2004
|
k Following a bizarre nuclear knitting accident, Bob grew a spare arm in the middle of his back that he immediately put to good use. |
As part of this year's program of going to rallies that I can't pronounce, I set off on Friday for the Stir Sun, Son, Shor .. Aberdeen MAG rally. One hundred and forty miles of quality dual carriageway 'dial in and go' later and I arrived at Inverurie. The rally site is at the Thainstone centre, famous for the selling of coos and other walking varieties of dinner. I had heard that the hall in which the rally was held was, not to put to fine a point on it, "Reekin' o' pish". 2004 wasn't noted as a good year for the further development of bovine toilet habits so I assumed that the fragrance of 'Ewe De Toilete' would be present. But No!, much to my surprise, we were goint to party in a shopping mall, quick , pretend yer in a Avril Lavigne video, er perhaps not.
|
Grampian police turned up to show off their new toy, a Duke 999, wonder if it ever catches anyone before it breaks down? |
Gordy, typically, showing of his tankard and demonstrating the correct use of the thumb in certain parts of the naked lady handle |
Of course that did mean I'd have to rethink
my excuses for the over indulgence of achohol since the "Drink more,
won't smell the shite" excuse was redundant. Having danced a wild fandango with my new tent, (instructions helpfully provided in Swahili) I wandered off to see who was about the field. Being a bit damp, the field that is, not me (yet), quite a few folk decided that discretion was the better part of valour and parked outside on the hardstanding, rather than brave the muddy hill into the field. Seth and Chris were doing a good job of keeping the cars out of the field which helped the situation, since booting a mondeo in first gear on wet grass just makes it a b*stard for us on the bikes. |
 |
 |
The Friday night band was 'Easily Led'
bashing out the usual covers and filling the dance floor. The usual imbibement of certain alchoholic fluids ensued, and the usual chaos ensued upon the dance floor and on Bob's beard, nice mix of purple and pink Bob. Typically, by midnight Jack and his Black Irish friend were taking their toll when Watty turned up and finished me off. A confident stride (my arse, ye know that way when the foot yer putting out in front becomes indecisive about exactly where it wants to put itself on the road) to the marquee on the site for a coffee to try and rescue the situation but, alas, all was lost when I promptly assummed one of the many "Rally 'ad Enough" positions against a convenient pole. |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Alchohol, Camera, Action ! |
 |
Much to my surprise, on Saturday morning
I woke up in my tent, bonus ! As the bikes arrived for the demo run I sought any tasty rides to shoot. John's very lovely Harley (right) , which I witnessed be driven properly, er, well he passed me at some lick and I was doing, er, em seventy officer. I had to find Rab's Fatarse Max, just to sate my well know fetish for large rear ends covered in rubber. It certainly didn't dissappoint, as well as a fatarse, it was sporting a tasty Egyptian themed Bob Falconer paint job. Hopefully I can get my act together to do a full feature on it. By midday the car park was filling nicely as the marshalls grouped to prepare for the demo run. Pics are on the next page. |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Click 'ere for Demo Run |
