Munch Bunch M.C.C.
" Get a life "
15 - 17 September 2000.
Just for a change, the Munch
Bunch decided to move their rally from the August bank holiday
weekend to this weekend. A change of venue was also '
forced ' upon them. Combine this with a shortage of fuel,
some of the worst weather for years, and just to make things even
better, the rally was advertised as being cancelled in some of
the magazines.
Not to be outdone, I spent
Thursday shifting petrol from the bikes into the trike, so by
Friday afternoon I was ready for the off. The new venue,
the Stormy Petrel, was quite a few miles nearer than the ' old '
Walwyn Arms venue so I went and picked up Kim, who still has her
leg in plaster, and hit the M 54. Something didn't feel '
right ' with the trike's handling, and by the time I hit the A 41
I found the front tyre had gone down. Luckily there was a
garage a few hundred yards down the road so I un-hitched the
caravan and went to blow the tyre up. In true fashion, the
tyre decided not to seat centrally on the rim. Being ever
resourceful, I bought some washing up liquid and coated the rim
of the tyre. That did the trick. Having re-hitched
the 'van we set off along the A 41 and into the rain. Now
rain and washing up liquid, when mixed, make lovely bubbles.
So there we were, barrelling down the main road with foam and
bubbles blowing merrily from the front wheel.
The tyre stayed up just long enough for us to
reach the Stormy Petrel.
The front wheel would have to wait until tomorrow
morning.
A grand total of four of us
made the trip Friday night, so we settled in and then headed for
the pub. A pint of Banks's mild cost £ 1-73 - looked like
being an evening of few beers. To add insult to injury, the
pub runs a Karaoke night on Fridays. Now Karaoke, to me, is
a most refined form of torture. Take the most abysmal song
you can think of, get someone who just can't sing, amplify the
whole shooting match to a level where it becomes painful and then
subject the audience to a cacophonic catastrophe. Seeking
escape, I headed to the marquee outside where the disco was set
up. The disco made the Karaoke seem quiet - but at least
the songs were being performed by original artists as opposed to
piss artists. Truly a case of " the lesser of two
evils ".
Strange folks spotted in the pub.
Saturday morning saw a dazed
bunch of folks milling around. Two of our members, who may
remain nameless, depending on how much they are willing to pay
for my silence, managed to lose their clothing. Well, lose
their Moonshiners shirts no less.
I whipped out the trike's front
wheel and took it off for the puncture to be repaired, courtesy
of Hooper from the Much Bunch. Thanks mate, I owe you one.
A certain nameless person accompanied us in order
to buy a new sweatshirt. On our return, one missing club
shirt turned up underneath the owners bed, and the other
one had been rescued by Kella { another Moonshiner who happened
to spot the * missing * shirt in the pub }. Have the
Moonshiners no control over their clothing ?
By Saturday evening a few more
bodies had turned up, but nowhere near enough for the rally to
break even. This weather and fuel crisis has a lot to
answer for.
A strange apparition was seen
wandering the field wearing nothing but a long black raincoat.
Cruel rumour has it that I was somehow involved in this "
Mystery flasher " spotting. I deny it all - have you
any photographs ? Can it be proved ?
Kath managed to win a bottle of
J.D. on the raffle. Oh dear, I foresee a few hangovers
tomorrow. The proceeds of the raffle went to Mick, one of
the Munch Bunch lads who was run off the road by a car driver who,
after hitting the rear of Mick's bike, drove off. Mick
ended up with three out of four limbs in plaster but still
managed to get to the rally.
' Our lot ' managed to win
another couple of trophies - the " long distance
female " award going to Kath who managed a
staggering 34 miles, and the " best trike " going to
myself - who had the only trike at the rally.
Sunday saw us packing up, in a
leisurely sort of fashion. The rain that had caused so much
grief down South had missed us completely. Quite a
warm sunny morning.
One of the nameless persons
appeared to be wearing odd boots. Oops, now where can the
other one be, and who does it belong to ? Is this what
drinking JD does to you ? How did * that hat * get into *
that tent * ? These, and other questions, will remain
unanswered . . . . . for the time being.
Having sorted out our wandering
clothes, the next stop was the cafe at Cosford for a nice greasy
breakfast - and much piss taking !
Despite various setbacks, the
" Get a life " rally still went ahead. I hope the
Munch Bunch M.C.C. haven't lost too much money - I would hate for
them to have to cancel next year's bash. I don't know why
more of ' our lot ' didn't come - possibly lack of petrol.
To Hooper - thanks for the lift into town with my
rather flat front tyre.
To Mick - get those plasters off and get back on
the road, soon as possible.
To the rest of " the Munchies " - cheers,
catch you around.
Cheers.
^..^
Lone Wolf.
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