NIGE Motorcycle Club

“Right, uhmmm Good morning  fellow Niges” said Nige as a hush fell over the exuberant group gathered to listen. “Now because there’s so many heaya today for the annual Bathurst Motogp ride, Im going to call the roll. I will say your name and you will reply with “Heaya”” “Is that cleaya?” “YES NIGE” we all heartily agreed.

“Right, Moey”

“Whatever”. Nige flinched at this disrespect.

“DD”

“Blessings on us all”

“Hmm, Barnaby”

“Yip” (That was Moey because Barnaby was running late and Nige hadn’t noticed)

“Lucky………Lucky……..LAAAAREFFENKEEE!!”

“I wanna go first”

“Shutup Lucky……Boris”

“Present”

“Me… Heaya. Right all accounted for.”

It was, of course, the 2019 Phillip Island Motogp and the hearts of all Australians were riding on the back of one Jack Miller, an unkempt potty mouthed Queenslander who had had some encouraging finishes throughout this season but was determined and promised on his mothers grave that he would win. Or something like that.

So we left at the usual 10am and out through Wollombi to Broke for fuel. New chum, Boris, had had a recent hip replacement so he rode very sensibly. Boris is from England just like Lucky but actually sounds English whereas Lucky kinda doesn’t. Boris does ride a Tiger though so they did have that in common. Everybody else rode their usual and Moey was particularly pleased with how well Old Sir Fallapart was going. “Look at her boys. Like she’s just come off the factory floor! So shiny! So sleek! I especially love her left hand mirror and screen don’t you?” That’s dramatic irony right there. More on that later. Meanwhile DD couldn’t believe how even more deeply in love he was falling with his Versys. “Yep she’s a dead set ripper fellas. I will love and protect her from all harm forever.” Oh yeah!! Mull that over for a bit. “Remember the last time we came to Bathurst boys and everything went went wrong with Redboy” added Lucky. “Well this time things will be different. I got a good feeling about this one for sure” Moey and DD and Lucky. Idiots.

So anyhoo we headed out to Denman in a howling wind but the torrential storm made us forget all about that. We arrived at the pub a bit bedraggled but not too bad and very hungry. Nige avoided the Chicken/Nitroglycerin combo burger that played havoc with his nethers last trip and had a nice something else instead. It came on a wooden board and had bread on it.

Right, so off we went again and landed in Rylstone for milk and cookies and fuel. From there up and onto Mt Panorama where Boris couldn’t believe we were allowed to ride. “Oh yes Boris my boy, we ride here even when the races are on” Grinned Moey but Boris just gave him a condescending smile developed over hundreds of years enduring antipodeans. “Australians! Quite silly really. Still, one endures what one must endure.” Which was completely lost on the rest of us who only speak a broken kind of babble that most of the time we barely understand ourselves. “What’s a one” asked a very confused Lucky. “Shhhh Lucky. Try not to think too hard” answered Unky Momo.

Beers at the Knickerbocker, when we eventually found it….again, was up to our usual standard with Boris handling many lagers with dogged determination. Later he announced, “I’ll sort Brexit out next lads, you just watch me” and we all believed him too. Meanwhile shout after shout after shout took us near to closing time. Lucky, full of good ideas ordered Bourbon and Cokes all round and this carried on shout after shout after shout too. The last thing he remembered was that they ran out of Jack Daniels and we had to drink something else with coke. It might have been Bundy but it disappeared before he could recall what happened to it. Anyway, with support and encouragement from the manager, we left the bar and headed off to bed. Next morning we were all bursting to know how Nige’s room was this time. Now, as agreed, he got the best room. It was the lavish number 210 that sits quietly facing a side street with a nice big bed and plenty of room. Lovely bucolic scenes adorned the walls and a 60inch big screen TV featuring Kayo nestled comfortably in the corner. “Didn’t sleep a wink. Was way too noisy and the shower didn’t feel right either. It was too hot but too cold at the same time, plus the fridge rattled like a skeleton, the moonlight came straight through the blinds, nobody picked my clothes up off the floor and I think I’m getting my periods!! Plus there was an errant Bundy and Coke bottle on the floor that I vaguely recall being given to me ” At this point, and speaking on behalf of the gang, Lucky asked the obvious question, “Now Nige, every trip you complain about your room. Is there any chance at all that perhaps you might be a bit of a hard marker?” Surprisingly, Nige remained calm apart from that tell-tale twitch of his eye, paused and replied, “No” and that was that.

Next morning we headed south to Burraga along good roads where speed signs were more or less advisory. “Geez ol’ Redboy feels a bit squirrely through the bends” Mentioned Lucky but nobody paid him any notice as there was powdered coffee and out of date chocolate biscuits to be had. It was pretty hot at this stage so Neither Lucky nor Boris felt up to the hot drinks. “I’ll get us something far nicer” said Boris and came back with two apples for 10 cents each. He tipped the lady shop owner 80 cents on top of that and, given the fairly post-apocalyptic state of the place, was more money than the poor woman had seen for a long time. “I remember me old ma used to talk of gold coins sir but never thought the day would come when I’d see the likes of it.” and she grinned a toothless smile and sent us on our way.

Now, and this was the funny bit, we headed back to Bathurst. Moey swapped bikes with Boris to give Boris’ repairing hip an easier ride than the very tall Tiger which, to this point, Boris had to climb onto like Stan Laurel trying to mount Oprah Winfrey. Off they went with still nobody listening to Lucky’s concerns about his strange handling issues. We all stopped at Rockley. Moey in front, Nige behind him, Lucky next, then Boris on Old Sir Fallapart and next to him was DD. Barnaby was around somewhere thinking about beer. All of a sudden there was a cry of despair as the gravel slipped out from under Boris’ left and still healing leg. He fell sideways onto DD’s Versys knocking it over as well and both were left wriggling out from under two sad looking motorcycles. Moey lifted Old Sir Fallapart up in a flash to find superficial damage to, that’s right, the left hand mirror and screen. “What are the odds boys? My two favourite parts broken.” meanwhile DD was inspecting his damage. “Not too bad fellas, a broken front fender, blinker and fairing panel.” All easily fixed. By this stage Nige was roaring with laughter and taking “pitchers for the report”. OSF wouldn’t start. It simply refused. DD leapt into action. “LORD” he said ” Do something” and wouldn’t you know it, Old Sir Fallapart fired up. “I did that” announced DD proudly. Off we went.

Race time approached as we sat at the Knickerbocker. “Somebody bring me a scoop..err schooner thanking you” said Nige. Nobody did. Barnaby meanwhile wandered over to the computer betting thing and put an absurd bet having Markey and Cal first and second. Nige tipped Marky and Maverick. As the race continued and the beers flowed, it was Marky and Maverick all the way. Then, on the final corner, Maverick fell down. Nige imploded. Barnaby hooted with joy as Cal took second. He’d won a lazy $800 plus. Jack Miller joined them on the podium and hooped and hollered like he’d won the thing. “Shave the goatee off hippy!” yelled Barnaby at the screen. Full on street cred right there!!

Ok so then we went looking for dinner. The Irish pub put on a meal you couldn’t climb over but the boys did not think much of the Guiness which Barnaby described as something that cats leave in a litter box. He shouted everyone dinner with part of his winnings so we all voted him new President. The vote was 5 for and 1 against but Nige said his vote counted for 6 so that was that. Boris and Lucky hung around to see a fairly dull game of Union and the Springboks beat Wales.

 

Next morning we all had our usual big breakfast thanks to Svetlana whose real name turned out to be Ava. After all these years. Anyway off we went. “I have to get fuel fellas.” That was DD. This threw mass confusion amongst the ranks as riders took off in all directions because nobody really knew who was going where. Eventually we ran into each other outside Bathurst and headed towards Rylstone. All was going well enough until we came to the T intersection of the Castlereagh Highway when DD, possibly still angered by OSF falling onto him yesterday, and overweighed by a full tank, callously rammed Moey from behind sending him out onto the highway and into the path of some hefty looking semi trailers. No harm done as Moey stayed to the side of the road and managed to stay on the bike. His neck did snap back on impact and both Lucky and Nige roared with laughter. “Fight, fight, fight” they yelled hoping for some good old street justice when Moey pulled over and removed his helmet. That was not to be. DD was quite repentant when faced with the towering rage of Moey about to rain hellfire down on him. “Oh no Moey” he wailed. “So sorry brother. I have wronged thee most violently and call humbly for your forgiveness. I will pay for this sin in the next life. For truly the bible doth say “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me.” “I think that’s from Leviticus” By this stage DD was pretty much incoherent with grief but they hugged it out anyway and all was well. And on we went.

About twenty Ks down the road we were stopped at one of those temporary red lights while roadworks were being carried out. “Hey Lucky, watch me bang into the back of Moey’s bike.” “Yeah do it Nige that’ll be a hoot.” And so paddling his way up behind Moey who was sitting stationary and listening to The Best of Dame Joan Sutherland or whatever Nige gave him a good old bump. Moey stayed on again but,ironically, Lucky nearly fell off from laughing so hard. “Woohoo Nige do it again do it again” He squeeled with glee but Nige said that Moey had suffered enough.  He’s good like that.

Then, “Something not right here” said a hapless Lucky as Redboy still felt very loose and worsening in the front end. At Rylstone he checked the front tyre and steering bearings. All good there. Swaying and meandering his way through bends, Lucky began to doubt his own abilities when Unky Momo pulled him over out past Denman. “There’s your problem Lucky old son.” He said with avuncular concern.”Your rear tyre looks to have very little air left in it.” Luckily Moey had spare gas cylinders on board and the tyre was pumped up enough to get to Broke and then on to Jerry’s where replacing a split valve sorted that problem out. “Goes like a bought one” said Lucky and simply avoided looking at the semi-melted edges of his Pilot Road 5.

Back to Jerry’s. A good weekend with lots of interesting things. Nige the only one who had no issues with his rides. Even Barnaby, riding Nige’s old Ninja, had some issues with cavitation in the fuel tank whatever that means.

Oh Right. The heading of this report. Well what happened was Lucky, leading, was sending messages to Nige about oncoming traffic via their Senas. After many, many overtaking manoeuvres, Lucky may or may not have mixed up a call about whether or not the road ahead was clear and leaving Nige slightly exposed at one stage. Sorry Geoffrey. Giggle.