This year it was time to head east once more into the 'Garvaldian' wilderness for the Minehoff's 20th Anniversary Ace of Spades Rally. Were it not for the rally signs, albeit some folk managed to miss them !, the site is, thankfully, difficult to find and hence keeps the burberry wildlife at bay. I suppose if I had one of those fangled gps things and had forgotten how to actually read a map it could have been a moredifficult task. I speak for others here of course, as I was smugly able to find the wonderfully secluded site coz I was there last year not that the surface dressing on the road was particularly welcome, cheap council gits !

Thoughtful

Dangerous

Relieved

Having set up base crash-oot area I wandered off to find Skida, who thankfully has resurrected his stall, where one can not only purchase goods of the jeweleretic and military apparaletic nature, more importantly one can become replete with Skidas fine collection of spirits, on this occassion the day started with a goodly sup of some old Spanish brandy...... here we go again...

Whilst sigining in and procuring the all important rally T-shirt a group of dangerously enigmatic characters appeared from the North East of England, reciting fables of derring-doo on their travels through the backwaters of the Scottish Borders, care would have to be exercised here. for these were the purveyors of some insidious concotion known as 'Cousin Steve's Chili Vodka'. The preparation is a closely guarded secret, know only to a chosen few and a small goat who pastures out the back of his remote hill fort,

Some say that it contains only the finest Habanero chilis sourced by Steve whilst waterskiing in the Mojave, it is said too that the needle will bend off the stop and make a curious but not altogether unpleasant 'poingy' sound on the Scoville Heat Scale meter. What I can say is that I was a big girl and only dipped my pinkie in, heeding the 'don't let it touch your lips warning' dabbed it on my tongue. Ahem...... Jilly Goulden would certainly eloquently describe it as "burnyhoatyabasturt" "with a gentle nose of formaldehyde".

I was glad of my careful approach having been regailed the story of the squaddie at the last rally who, thinking that he was harder than a bulldogs mother-in-law chewing a brick decided to swally a good amount of it. After turning all the colours of a pantone chart he simultaneously proceeded to suffer a prolapse through his gob..... Be warned, be safe. Ye would have thought that would be the most trouble that alchohol could cause, but we were to be be proved wrong.....

Three Wee Craws ......

The bar in the marquee was provided by Peelwalls Brewery from a small border settlement. One might have, with hindsight considered that the name was more apt in terms of the ingredients in the Pear Cider. All and sundry were extoling the virtues and quaffability of this brew, until later, when Nodge took off like a speeding Manchester joyrider clutching his arse, deftly ripping off his camo shorts dissapearing into a portaloo to narrowly and thankfully miss the follow-through, that the truth became known.

This set the pattern, anyone I knew, who'd partaken of the Pear Cider paid a hefty price, Foogy lay outside my tent all day saturday trying to find a rare sheltered spot from the sun, occasionally making groaning and grumbling noises to indicate that he was in fact still with us. Luckily, no, thankfully, the bloke with the pump truck appeared to empty the now overloaded portaloos. It is fair to say that all the other beverages on offer were consumed in great quantities with no ill effects, well no more than normal. Friday night we were entertained by 'Flat Oot' and 'FM', I, like a considerable number of other folk chose to lie about outside the marquee as it was another of those rare evenings in Scotland when it was warm and dry enough to do so. Apart from that I couldn't keep a roll-up out me gob long enough to go back in the marquee other than to catch a few photos.

In excellent company and avoiding the pear cider it was a fine and chilled atmosphere lying about on the grass under the stars. Saturday's forced early rise from the 'oven tent' wasn't exactly welcome my heid not being as bright and fresh as the day was, but a hearty breakfast of bacon butties, coffee and painkillers soon sorted that out. Lindy, Andy, Steve and Debs had decided that we should have afternoon 'rock 'n roll' tea and scones, for some well articulated but slightly surreal reasons, comprised of alchohol and assorted conefectionary based products. The stalwart efforts of Steve and Andy in fabricating complex cakes with nothing more than a stick, sugar products and a sharp knife were outstanding, mixed with the appropriate amount of alchohol the sugar rush was, er, interesting.

Steve had read Hansel and Gretel too many times and prepared to fashion a pub from co-op chocolate cake bricks

A few bikes gradually assembled for the bike show, although many fine examples were left by tents, the owners still too out of it perhaps to even contemplate holding them upright. Tam ask me to judge the bikes, and a difficult task it was given the amount of bikes in the show, well, he wanted my opinion, gods help him :-). When you wander around a selection of bikes one always catches your eye, maybe not the most expensive, best built, finely finished or with the most expensive paint job but nevertheless it just 'sits right' has a good stance and basically I like the cut of it's jib. For me it was the wee yam 535 with a flame job. Not overly chopped, more modified, but in the right places and not the abdicated product of an overactive chequebook. A proper grass roots chop. The kind of thing that could have a bar-room debate going for hours.

Saturday's bands were "Infallible", Nitrogen Sky", "Black Rose" and "Demons Eye", again being a smoker and it being a fine night we appreciated them again from outside the marquee. I was tempted back into the marquee to enjoy the entertainment provided by two lass's swinging burny things about with, I would say 'gay abandon' but that probably not politically correct these days er let's say demonic possession then, that'll probably still offend some niche group.

One of the lass's had obviously spent too much time in the student quarter of Edinburgh, shunning the pharmaceutical option she was determined to rid herself of that chronic dose of crabs with a five inch angle grinder, I'm sure she would have had more success had she removed her steel thong.

Sparko's long suffering GPz was sitting in it's burn out cradle awaiting a damned good thrashing, and one it got. Sparko wound it up, the fireworks were set off, Howie lit up the back tyre, all was going spectacularly well until the flames started to spread up under the petrol tank, the fire extinguisher did it's job only too well, to the extent that they couldn't get the tyre to light up again, refusing to admit defeat Sparko gamely spun it out until it blew up, result :-) Beyond this point I struggle to recall due to a plaited triple dose production of a certain person which rendered me , er.... I am told I did enjoy the rest of the evening. Top marks was awarded on Sunday morning to the lass who arrived on the fazer late saturday night, partied and dropped beside her bike and slept presumably completely incapable of putting her tent up. She rose in the morning, shook herself off, put her jacket on and rode off :-) Cheers to the Minehoff for a great 20th, Next year Sparko will probably have to blow something really big up to follow this years pyro entertainment, I look forward to it. Words & Pics By Al

Furthest Travelled Jorge,Santi & Dany form Madrid, Spain Approx 1000 miles	Farthest Travelled Female er, I'll find oot :-)	Best Trike Vix, Mini Trike

Best Streetfighter Tam, Gixer	Best Chop XV535	Best Rat GS

Best Classic Joe, Sunbeam	Best in Show Hozzy, XS650	Club Turnout Saints & Sinners MCC