24TH 25TH & 26TH  OCTOBER.  1997.    

I was saddened to hear that this was to be the last Flying Boot.  I have done a few Flying Boots and have always enjoyed them.
 This year’s rally returned to the popular Three Pigeons Inn at Graigfechan, near Ruthin in North Wales.  For us Black Country types this involved a trip over the Horseshoe Pass, not the world’s steepest pass but very picturesque anyway.  The Trike pulled the mobile dog kennel up the pass in third with plenty of torque to spare.  Volkswagen engines only rev to 4500 and develop their maximum torque at 2300.
 Having arrived at the pub I set up camp and headed for the bar.  This appeared to be a popular pastime with plenty of people sitting and drinking lots of fizzy brown water, which at thirty bob (1-50 to you young whippersnappers)  a pint seemed more than reasonable.  The bar shut at 11 o clock so we headed outside.  The temperature had dropped to about minus three, which is mere tee shirt weather for us mountain men.  Us non mountain men complained that it was bloody cold and we were off to bed.  Apparently the temperature went as low as minus nine at last years rally so this year was warm in comparison.
 We awoke Saturday morning to a field that looked more like a Christmas card illustration with thick, heavy frost covering everything.   Today was also the 13th birthday of Alan, one of our members kids.  I had popped round their house on the previous Thursday in order to sneak a monster birthday cake away in my combo.  This cake was due to make an appearance in the pub later on, if I didn’t get hungry in the meantime.
 A few bikes didn’t like the cold and that ever popular rally game "Start You Bastard" was being played.  Us brave souls ventured out to Bala where the twice yearly market was being held in the High Street.  A few bargains were had, such as bungee "spiders" for a quid and waterproofs for a fiver.  On returning to the site what little space was left had gone, the field was just about as full as you could get.  We parked up by the pub and walked down to the tents and set about the  serious task of feeding our faces.  The infamous club barbecue was soon blazing away and bits of dead animal were being cremated in a way that would put burnt offerings to shame.
 Having fed we retired to the pub, taking with us the aforesaid cake.  The cake was dismembered and passed around the room.  Much beer and banter followed along with a chappie on the guitar who seemed to please most folks.  Our club (Moonshiners M.C.C.) managed to win club aggregate mileage with fourteen members travelling roughly 85 miles each.  I managed to win Grot Trike!  Bloody typical.  I only painted it three years ago.  Do you think rust is cheap?  Trikes have feelings you know.  A few people who had attended all fifteen rallys were awarded a plaque displaying all fifteen Flying Boot rally badges.  Very nice too, I would be proud to own such a thing.   Well done Evicted M.C.C. I’m sure they will be treasured.
 Half a dozen of our lot stayed over at the rally site for Sunday night before we ventured to the seaside for the rest of the week.  I think a rally is the best way to start your holiday.  Thanks again to the Evicted M.C.C. I just wish it wasn’t the last one.
 Anyroad, that’s enough from so until the next time:-  



Lone Wolf.  

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