NIGE Motorcycle Club

It doesn’t take much to amuse grown men does it? The ride to Maccas at 7 in the morning was fun in itself let alone the anticipation of the adventures to follow. The weather was perfect and all four Niges: Nige, Sideways, Mohawk, and Lucky headed south without a care in the world. That is till we hit Wisemans Ferry Road. Fog so thick there were fish swimming in it. Mohawk nearly hit a submarine. Anyway we eventually found our way back to dry land and steered west along Bells Line and out to Bathurst. Lucky took point for a while and wasn’t aware that average speed cameras check average speeds (He doesn’t teach maths you see) so might have been a little over the limit.

From here we turned south and wound our way along country roads with most of us enjoying this quiet time by listening to their favorite tunes. At this point Mohawk decided to set a pretty cracking pace out front whilst Sideways was a little unhappy that his new earmould speakers were only working in one ear. As our speeds increased to that point where we started going backwards in time his other speaker suddenly made no sound either. The good news is there was nothing wrong with that speaker and all that had happened was that his brand new wife-bought-birthday-present-Ipod had been sucked out of his pocket and must have shattered on impact with the road. Mind you when he discovered it missing he rode back some 25K in the hope it may have somehow landed gently in a tuft of dandelions or something. It didn’t. We had a choice here to go with him or eat lunch. I had a Chico Roll, Nige had wedges and Mohawk had a nice salad wrap. Someday we will all have a good laugh at Sideway’s misfortune but right now is just too soon. After that he lost his three legged stool off the back. So now he can’t listen to music or sit down. At least his phone was still working so he could call his wife and tell her the bad news. Later on his phone got drenched in the rain and it broke too..Oh mercy how we laughed. Stop it that isn’t funny. Yes it is.

Anyway we stayed overnight at a pub in Collingullie and had some beers. Then we slept and got up again. Got to give it to Mohawk and Nige here because they really did find some great roads and set a good pace. Victorian roads were fun but they have cops and cameras everywhere so we stayed close to the limits most of the time.

Silverwater Resort was close to the island and the weather was so warm we rode in T shirts and shorts even after 9 at night. Race days were hot but not enough to stop Lucky and Nige touring the pits on our special pit passes. We were told we would see the crews at work; we were told the riders would be signing autographs; we were told it would be an unforgettable experience. What we got was the occasional bike with its seat off and a few apprentices staring as blankly at us as we were at them. Nige did make comment of this to some aged crew member of some no-name team who smiled and replied “si bueno si bueno” or something like that. Lucky got a nice blister on his heel as a memento of this exciting part of the adventure.

Speaking of those pit passes. They were part of a pair of freebies that included entrance tickets that Nige had finagled from Image. He clutched them to his bosom like a Superbiked Smeagol. “My lanyards, my precious lanyards”. As it turned out Sideways and Mohawk showed no interest at all and Lucky was mortified by the demands set by Nige to earn the precious….still..they were free and Catholics can always go to confession.

Sullied reputations aside the racing was okay for what it was and we watched it.

Sunday night the storms moved in. By Monday morning it was raining heavily as we made our way northwards. Water came in at all angles including upwards and we were soaked through. Trying to get ahead of the weather felt hopeless as mud and water washed across the roads in front of us and heavy rain turned torrential. It stayed with us till we crossed the border and remained overcast till we arrived at Temora for the night. Here we met one of the colourful locals, Pete. Imagine the skinniest man you have ever met; take another 10 kilos off him and put a beer in his aged arthritic claw and you have Pete. A friendly character all the same who steadily drank and laughed along with us and confiscated Mohawks XXXX stubby holder for his own collection. Might have attached it to a lanyard, who knows.

Tuesday morning and it was raining again. Just kept riding north towards Bathurst and then along some really nice backroads to Tarana where we had lunch. It had stopped raining. There were more pensioners here than at a Russell Morris concert which was okay as long as they didn’t slow down the making of our meals and departure with their pureed devon and broccoli in a bowl (or whatever it is the elderly eat). Fortunately for them they didn’t. From here it was pretty plain sailing.

All in all it was good. Nobody fell off (sorry, knocking on wood here) or got cranky or wearied of our company.

A Few Extra Photos