NIGE Motorcycle Club

And we did’nt. Leaving Monday morning with a song in our hearts three Niges: Lucky, Keys, and Black Santa headed out through Greta, Paterson, Dungog, and stopped at Gloucester for a nice little coffee. A few spots of rain developed into a maelstrom that emptied the streets and left the locals wondering if there really is a god and what they had done to merit this much anger. We scoffed “Ha ha” and rode out for Walcha. Some gay blade on a GS BMW at the servo told us that the Thunderbolts was a nightmare with “…more potholes than asphalt” but it was nothing more than a bit bumpy in parts. He was wearing BMW labelled jacket and pants.

“Would not be at all surprised if it begins to rain sometime soon”

Now the ride was wet and cold but a quick hamburger at Walcha sorted us right out. The trouble really began when we reached Armidale. You know how sometimes a hotel can look better on the internet than in real life? Well St Kilda was all that and less. Perhaps the twin room cost of $30 per night should have been a hint but Lucky thought he was just ….well…lucky..to get rooms at such a bargain price. Let me briefly describe the three rooms under the following sub-headings:

The Solarium: Lucky’s room was designed to allow for maximum light by having only a very thin piece of flood damaged cotton over the window which looked out onto the brilliant neon signs of the main street. There was no night-time in Lucky’s room which meant he had to blindfold himself with an old necky like he was facing a firing squad. The mattress was made of the same kind of foam they must make nerf balls out of because it was like sleeping in a big bag of fairy floss.

The Ashtray: DD’s room was located next to the upstairs lounge where the old codgers who lived there smoked full strength Benson & Hedges and wondered how they might win their battle with lung cancer. His room must have absorbed the odours of ten billion cigarettes over the years and as a result DD fell into a kind of coma and awoke next morning a three pack a day man. “Yeah boys I slept like a log. Just feel a bit twitchy.”

The Abattoir: Perhaps the most dreadful of all, and probably never rented out except in an emergency, was Key’s room. A tiny cell really with room for only one small bed. The tired and worn carpet had a huge sticky pool of what could only have been dried blood and the wall beside the bed had a hole blown through it presumably by the same 12 guage that had spread its former occupant’s entrails and major organs all over the bedspread. The very same bedspread I’ll warrant which had no doubt been hastily washed and remade for the unluckiest Nige of them all. Sleep of course was out of the question. Apparently one of the old codgers from Emphysema Central had his digs right next door to The Abattoir and spent the night trying to hack his lungs out through his throat. Poor ol’ Keys.

“I see dead people”

Anyway the rain got heavier as the night wore on and by morning things looked pretty bleak. Keys decided he had to get home as soon as possible and seek therapy for those haunting visions of carnage he couldn’t escape from. Lucky was undecided but agreed to follow Black Santa who wanted to “Push on regardless” Then he looked at his special Iphone weather app and decided Black Santa was “Out of his mind and all jumped up on nicotine and unable to think rationally” Locals then told us that Grafton etc. had faced severe storms and were suffering flood warnings with heavier rain to follow. Lucky convinced Black Santa it was time to go home, “Come on DD, a good Bex and black coffee will get those shakes under control and we’ll get you on the patches first thing tomorrow” Lucky promised. “OK Lucky great idea as usual. Hey whats that pink sticky stuff you keep chewing on there? Look its stuck to your jacket too” “Never mind, it’s nothing, mind your own business Smokey” Tempers were a little stretched at this point.

“This fishcake is a real highpoint of our adventure”

So we came home a day early. It rained and rained and rained and we got wetter and wetter and wetter. Nevertheless it had its highlights. The crumbed cutlets at the pub were pretty good. The coffee at Maccas on the other hand was pretty dreadful. “Bear Grylls couldn’t drink this” Lucky said and all agreed.

Let’s try again next school holidays.