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.

A panoramic view of the site.  Note the ugly little trike ;-)

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.  Copped in the act of triking.  Time to cut up the Gold Wing.

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.

I don't follow trends -------  I set them.

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.


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