Foxes M.C.C.
For Fox Sake rally.
September 10th 11th 12th
1999.
Well. The 12th "For Fox Sake" is upon us already. Has it really been that long since the first?
The weekend
prior to this rally I headed over to the Foxes meeting place at
Tamworth in order to sort out the tickets. On my way home, I
managed to blow the bottom end out of the trike engine. That'll
teach me to travel too fast along the motorway.
This left me with no choice but
to dig out G.R.I.M. the Cossack / BMW powered trike that
lives underneath the kitchen window. So, without further
ado, G.R.I.M. was loaded up and pointed towards Burton upon
Trent.
The rally was
held in its usual venue; Caton Hall, on the banks of the river
Trent. A few 'Shiners were already there by the time I
arrived.
Luckily, I still remembered how to put up the
tent. I was going to say "erected" the tent, but
I know how your minds work........you bunch of perverts.
Part of the 'Shiners contingent.
Compared to last
year, the weather was very kind indeed. Warm and next to no
wind. A few of us set of for the "Black Horse", a
pleasant little pub a few miles up the road. After a couple
of beers, we headed back to the site for a nibble and some
serious drinking.
This year, the Foxes decided to
do their own catering, seeing as the "Grub Bus" [or
"Butty Box", as some recall it], had proved to
unreliable in the past. Full marks for the grub
Foxes. It was excellent. { I liked the way you got at least
five free Daddy Longlegs with every meal.} Yep. Due
to the remarkably warm and muggy weather, every Daddy Longlegs in
the area had turned up to visit the rally. These delightful
little insects would happily fly around and land in your
curry. Now anything that lands in MY curry is in
serious danger of being eaten. You have been warned.
Following my "Insect
Madras", and a few beers, I wobbled off to bed - remembering
that I was in a tent and not in the caravan.
Saturday morning, and
the weather was as kind as ever. One of our more "die
hard two wheeled" members even took to trying his hand at
trike riding.
Kella is caught red handed at trike riding.
After gobbling our breakfast, we
headed out to Burton for a spot of shopping and a nose
around. One of the more interesting shops was an army
surplus store that was selling Coleman "Sportster"
stoves for £ 16-99. This was a bargain, seeing as they
cost a lot more than that, even in 'cheap' shops such as Argos.
Being ever greedy, I brought one. The
"generator" alone costs over a tenner, so it was a
bargain. Having packed our goodies away, we headed
into the local supermarket. This was a most logical
move. We needed some way of trying out our "new"
stoves, so food was the order of the day.
The silly games were well under
way by the time we returned. The Foxes always seem to come
up with novel games, and this year was no exception. I am
not even going to attempt to describe them, let's just say they
were silly.
Our stoves passed the
"cooking" test with flying colours. Of course,
after the eating, comes the sleeping. The 'Shiners are good
at sleeping, it's one of the things we excel at.
I took rather a shine to
Sarah's multi coloured hat, and decided it was just the thing for
wearing whilst trike riding.
Grab an eyeful of that hat.
The aforementioned headgear was
road tested up to 60 m.p.h. with no problems at all. I must
get one.
The band playing in the marquee
went by the name of "The Rebellious Jukebox".
They played a bit of all sorts, but mainly early "punk"
type stuff. I am both sad and old enough to remember most
of the original artists. Oh dear.
It seemed that whilst we were
away, the Foxes had given out the awards, including an award for
"Worst Trike". For some strange reason, they had
decided that G.R.I.M. was the rattiest, ugliest, rustiest heap of
shit on the field. No taste, these Foxes.
The rest of Saturday night
passed as all Saturday nights should, with much drinking, dancing
and merry making.
Sunday morning dawned bright
and early, as opposed to myself, who arose dull and late.
Ugh. I would have thought by now that I would have grown
out of all this silliness. Still, nothing that a cup of
coffee and a quick nibble wouldn't cure.
I went through the unfamiliar
routine of packing a tent away. { Isn't life easier when
you can tow the dog kennel ?} The weather was still
glorious, no wind and beautiful sunshine. Perhaps the
Foxes have friends in high places ?
I scuttled off to pick my
"Crap Trike" award up and say my goodbyes to the lads
and lassies of the Foxes M.C.C.
Well, that's that for another
year. Well done to the Foxes for yet another excellent
rally, made even better by the excellent weather.
I can't understand why they thought G.R.I.M. was
deserving of the worst trike award. G.R.I.M. is the work of
a master artist. Granted, a master piss artist, but an
artist none the less.
Revenge will be mine, you vulpine vagabonds.
Cheers.
^..^
Lone Wolf.