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.



Lone Wolf.

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