Ally recovers from the doing a '180' on her Harley in the field.
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Aha the challenge is on,
how to recall a rally when you're a) be daft enough to be one of the twats
that organised it b) were sober the whole weekend ! c) erm, was completely
shagged out for a week afterwards.
Answer, who gives a shit, just write some bollocks.
The calcite compensation depth is the phenomenon that is responsible for
the geographic and depth distribution of the white Globigerina ooze that
Wyville Thomson and the other Scientifics discovered on that first fateful
transect across the Atlantic ....
Whit ??!, not that kind of bollocks !, rally kind of bollocks!, oh, ok then.
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Having been right royally
fucked aboot by a certain Rugby Club in Central Scotland who couldn't run
a piss up in a brewery, oh, and would change the bar prices through the
night too, the hunt was on, I'd lost my bike keys again, no, no, for a new
rally site.
Ye'd think it would be easy seeing as there are lots of those green square
things dotted about, but finding one with decent facilitiesturns out to
be harder than ye might think.
Step in Manio, Cosmo and Aldo at the truck stop. |
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Wee John pays for his supposed cheek |
Now a truck stop might seem to be a strange place for a rally, but, when
ye stack it up, somewhere camp, dry to drink and party in, clean and cheap
to eat in and not too smelly to crap in , albeit different parts of the
same place of course, then it made sense, pity I don't ;-)
So Europa truck stop it was, I'm not sure if Manio & co were sure
what they were letting themselves in for but they were up for it anyway.
Of course the fact that we actually told them it was a rally of the 'Guild
of Herbacious Women's Cross-stiching and Macrame Practitioners' probably
helped swing it.
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Just as well we didn't have a beaty competition |
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The day arrives, yer out
of yer bed early, drive to the site to get the caravan and signs etc sorted.
As Sue had sold her caravan which previously acted as our 'Sign in' tent
we splashed out £50 and bought a caravan for the task, even the strange
smell, reminiscent of a brooding pile of post rally socks and keks was included
in the price, bargain !
It even came with a pychopathic awning which waited until the right moment
to unleash it's grevious fury upon me, waiting until I was on the ground
fettling with the bottom of a pole, cunningly using gravity just as I looked
up caught me square between the eyes with a steel pole. Having yer face
covered wi blood isn't the most auspicious way to start the day. |
Do you sign? ... Whit? |
I see a full moon rising |
Just after midday the first weary travellers appeared, none other than the
'Arrochar Massive' , i.e. Donald and Davie, christ they're keen.
The weatherman was wrong again and the rain was looming, but hey, who cares,
....to the pub !
Folk could avail themselves of a tattoo by Kirsty of Outer Limits, Stirling
Tel: 01786 449391 or even a theraputic massage courtesy of Iain Taylor 01563
884281
Friday night we had a band called 'Clachee', who rumped up a storm with
some shitkickin' celticy rocky type of thing and got the dance floor filled
for the rest of the evening.
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Taking the prize for 'Youngest Ralliest' was Abbi, a whole week old and
hitting the 'Turbo Vimto' already. |
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As the mayhem gradually
wound down around 2am, Hammy decided to demonstrate his 'flight of the seven
ninjas' and took a 'hieder' of the step into the car park, luckily a stationery
supplies van was passing and rushed him off to an undisclosed 'all night'
office supplies shop in Wishaw to get a half dozen staples put in his napper.
Actually it looked bloody sore, poor bugger was done in all weekend with
mild concussion and spent the rest of it sleeping or looking very drunk
but sober. Hope it's better now mate. Upshot was that Brian had to drive
Hammy's Harley home for him, we have photographic evidence ;-)
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