Middlesbrough M.A.G. Number One Rally A modern classic Soon to be a major film! |
|
Andy awoke early and stretched. He didn’t get any taller. Regarding his chiselled good looks in the mirror as he stood up, he ran his hand over his perfectly maintained beard. A quick shower later, he gave Britney Spears her bus fare home, ate a hearty breakfast of muesli, did 500 press-ups, packed his bike and pressed the hand-made ivory-inlaid starter-button. |
|
 |
The powerful, perfectly-maintained engine rumbled into life. Casually tossing his Rolex into the road; time had no meaning now, Andy clicked the bike into first gear and roared off down the road, to the mechanical symphony of the exhaust note and a squeaky rear disc. Despite the engine modifications that Andy had executed himself, resulting in the world’s fastest road bike, he rode carefully and with due consideration for other road users. Only ninety minutes later, he pulled into the rally site in Stokesley.
In the real world, however, me and Slightlymuddy got there about 2ish, in the sunshine. I put techno-tent up, then she emptied ten sacks of ‘wimmin-items’ into the porch. Time to get drunk. |
 |
 |
Various other people began to arrive, Stonedski Kev, Shite-shag Tank, Cousin Steve and Blonde&Deadly, a smattering of Wansbecks and an assortment of reprobates and functioning alcoholics. Those nice people Cousin Steve and Blonde&Deadly, bought me a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. That lasted about as long as a pisshead’s giro. We also drank shedloads of beer, then, under cover of drunken singing, we sneaked over to the bonfire and insinuated ourselves with normal people, in the hope that they would give us drinks in return for leaving them alone. Some men in kilts gave us a hip flask of Benilyn, but instead of driving us off, it only encouraged us…..we stayed there a long time, sampling kilted-men’s hipflasks. |
 |
 |
The bands sounded great as a drinking accompaniment, as the sound drifted across the rally field. Eventually, the hip-flasks ran dry, so we went to bed.
Saturday dawned and I was up and about at 6.00am. for a pee. Then I went back to bed again. There is no excuse for getting up that early. Ever.
At about noon, I got up properly and realised that the world was spinning. This was great news, I was still drunk! No hangover for me!!! Those who were capable set off by bike, for a jaunt to Northallerton. I got a lift in a car, as I forgot how to ride a bike and couldn’t walk straight…. |
 |
 |
A jaunt around Northallerton, then back to the site for a barbeque. Amazing weather, considering it was still early May. Warm and sunny with a nice breeze! We had a stroll around the custom show in the sunshine, admiring/disparaging/photographing bikes as we saw fit. We all had a laugh at a standard 1200 Bandit adorned with all manner of bolt-on bling, ‘til we realised it was Sparticus’ bike. Never seen it clean before, so we didn’t recognise it at first….. |
 |
 |
The evening followed the afternoon, as surely as Al will follow the offer of a free drink and we repaired to the marquee briefly. The bands were once again cracking, smashing and entertaining. In return, we were cracked, smashed and entertained.
Later on, in need of conversation, Cousin Steve and I wandered to the bonfire again, then spent the rest of the evening sitting in my tent with various visitors, as we re-created a Red Indian smoke-hole. True to the ancient legends, I had an out-of-body experience and met my spirit-guide. My Red Indian name is Stands With An Effort. |
 |
 |
Occasional glimpses of the outside world showed light rain, light wind and drunken bikers standing around the bonfire, gently rotating as they sought to dry out on the side facing the fire, as the side away from the fire got soaked. Like a slow-motion ballet, they slowly turned around, gently steaming in the rain.
Gravity overcame us in the wee small hours and the sleeping bag suddenly became very attractive…. Riding home on Sunday was done with a big grin on my face. |
 |
 |
The number 1 rally is one of the friendliest, cosiest rallies of the year and I wouldn’t miss it for all the money in Al’s wallet!
Hope to see some more of the Bikers1 regulars there next year!
Words and impecible diction by Uncle Andy Photgraphic images by courtesy of the inimitable Stonesdski Kev (just as well Andy didn't miss it, otherwise I'd have had to part with that crumpled £7 note that's left in me wallet, Al :-) |
 |