Howlin’ Wolf M.C.C.
4th Wobbly Wolf Rally.
August 29th 30th 31st 1997.
Following last week’s Get a
Life rally, where Kev managed to break four spokes in his rear
wheel, we had a bit of a rush on our hands. I took his
wheel in to be rebuilt on Wednesday, hoping to pick it up the
next day.
Having driven to work on Thursday I noticed the Trike had
snapped a rear shock absorber. This could prove annoying as
I intended to use the Trike for the rally this weekend.
I went and picked Kev’s wheel up and dropped it round his
house. Kev thought he could get me some new springs made
for the Trike’s original shocks by Friday dinnertime.
Kev was as good as his word and by half past one I was the proud
owner of two new springs. I shot off home to fit the new
springs and arranged to phone Kev when I was ready to
leave. The new springs happened to be wider than the
originals so they wouldn’t fit between the legs of the
spring compressor. I had to make a new spring
compressor. Who said life’s easy?
By 5 o clock we hit the road. Well, we hit the
traffic jams. I can’t understand why they call it rush
hour when the only thing you can’t do is rush
anywhere. The weather was kind to us, and by the time we
were clear of Tamworth most of the traffic had cleared. We
followed the signs for the Nottinghamshire Showground at Newark
and after a couple of miles we had arrived. It seems
everyone else had also arrived. They were
"stacking" bikes on the car park whilst people were
booking in. 80 miles and we end up in a traffic jam of
bikes. Now that makes a change.
The Showground is a wonderful rally site. Plenty of
room, nice and flat, lots of toilets and a huge clubroom. I
don’t know how much this place cost the Howlin’ Wolf
M.C.C. but I have no problem paying a couple of quid extra for
quality camping. If there’s one thing that annoys me
it’s rally sites on a one in five hill and so small that you
have to camp in each other’s pockets. So - Nice one
lads, a brilliant site.
Friday nights band was the inimitable Shamus O’blivion
and the Mega Death Morrismen. These bunch of inspired
loonies had people leaping around all over the place. By
the time they came on for their second set, it seems someone had
turned up the volume to such an extent that the only discernible
thing was the distortion. Just as you can’t put a
quart in a pint pot, you can’t run a 6 kilowatt p.a.
through 4 kilowatt speakers. I was thankful the room was
large enough for me to take refuge in one of the corners.
Saturday morning was a little damp. I had noticed on
the rally tickets that it said bring a kite. So I
did. We were in the middle of a huge flat field with a
glider launching runway on one side and very little else on the
other. Was there any wind? Not a breath. My
kite just hung there limp and lifeless. ( now what does that
remind me of? )
We took a run into Newark to raid the cashpoint and grab a
few essentials before returning to the Showground where
unspeakable things involving muddy puddles and rally virgins were
taking place.
It was a change to see so many different sorts of Trikes on
the field. I wandered round chatting with the owners and
generally swapping ideas.
By 9 o clock we were back in the clubhouse. The main
band for Saturday night was Dumpy’s Rusty Nuts. It was
the first time I had heard these. They certainly know how
to entertain 500 plus bikers. Not the sort of music I like
but then I’ve always had strange tastes.
This was followed by the male and female strippers.
Not to be outdone the two young ladies siting at the same table
promptly gave us a flash. Who says you get the best view up
by the stage? Thanks girls.
I remember last orders being called at 2 in the morning,
and by then I’d had enough anyway so I wobbled of to bed.
Sunday morning was a little dull and overcast so we dressed
in shiny black rubber in order to keep the rain out. ( not to
mention the fact that all bikers are perverts with a rubber
fetish. It must be true, I read it in the Sun.) The
dreaded rain held off until we reached the outskirts of Tamworth,
then the world ended. To say it pissed down is an
understatement. There were floods on several of the main
roads.
Whilst driving through one flood I noticed the car approaching
had not seen the water and had not slowed down. I flashed
my lights but it was too late. With a look of horror the
car driver braked and hit the flood at 30 m.p.h. I was
lucky. The "barn door" faring type thing on the
Trike stopped most of the water. Kev, who was following on
his B.M.W. outfit, got swamped. All I could see in my
mirror was a huge cloud of steam If nothing else at least
it cleaned his bike and gave him a bath at the same time.
I have done all four of the Wobbly Wolf rallies and they
seem to be getting better all the time. I’d like to
thank Howlin’ Wolf M.C.C. for a brilliant site and a
cracking good rally.
Cheers.
^..^
Lone Wolf.