Howlin' Wolf M.C.C.

Wobbly Wolf Rally.

1st - 3rd September. 2000

    Howlin' wolf M.C.C. gave the Wobbly Wolf rally a miss last year, but now it's back, and being held at what seems to be a very good site up in the Peak District.
    I spent Friday morning fitting a 'new' distributor to the trike, and by 12 o clock I was ready to roll.  I stopped just outside Lichfield and reduced the trike's tickover speed by 300 rpm to a nice even 900 rpm, then hit the A 515 towards Buxton.
Of course, it just wouldn't be the same without the rain, and rain it did, only for a few miles, but it was the type of rain that takes no prisoners.  Good job my waterproofs were to hand.
  The A 515 is one of those roads that is just as enjoyable on the trike as on a solo bike.  Enough twisty bits to keep you amused, and a fair few straight bits.  By mid afternoon I managed to find the "Rising Sun", a large hotel on the A 625.  I pulled the 'mobile dog kennel' onto the field and set up camp next to a delightful little trout stream, complete with delightful little trout swimming to and fro.

    Having set up camp, the next thing was food, so I fired up the cooker and cremated a few 'burnt offerings'.  By the time I had finished my leisurely tea, it was time to head for the pub.  The band for tonight was "Van Hooligan", who did a good job of keeping everyone entertained.
    The "Rising Sun" is one of those places that is certainly big enough.  If you wanted to 'escape' from the band / disco for a few minutes, then all you had to do was walk through into the bar area.
    I noticed that food, reasonably priced food, may I add, was available up until the bar closed at 1 a.m.  Now that's what I call damn good service.  Bikers always seem to get the munchies around midnight.  I was lucky enough to be sitting by the food area when it was announced, at around quarter to one, that any food left was free. Oh dear - another cheese burger disappeared down my hatch.  Having been fed and watered, I wandered off to bed - - well, it was after 3 a.m.

    Saturday morning dawned bright and early - which is more than I did.  I rolled out of bed around mid day, and set off in search of food.  Come to think of it, I'm pretty good at food searching.  Maybe that's why I'm a fat bastard.
    The silly games were taking place at the rear of the pub, so I wandered over for a look.  Hmmm - carrots !  Hmmm - large tubs of water ! 
 It seems that most silly games involve people getting wet.  Considering most bikers wear waterproofs in order to arrive nice and dry, why do they just *love* getting soaked in the silly games ?  I noticed the landlady of the "Rising Sun" was roped in, and duly got a tad damp.

    I took a nose around the bikes parked at the rear of the pub. There was quite a variety, which makes a change from all the sports bikes you tend to see these days.


    Saturday afternoon slid into Saturday evening.  Tonight's band was "Slingshot", who managed to lose their vocalist.  Not to be outdone, they performed their first set without him, fortunately, the guy turned up later.

    The evening's silly games started off with an innocent looking 'eat the ice cream' contest.  Strange, that ice cream doesn't seem to be melting - Oh - it's the new 'soft fat' ice cream. 

Following the silly games were the awards.  It made a change to see a German club taking the aggregate mileage - with over 1000 miles each. The pub landlady was presented with "shortest distance travelled - female"

    Reports of a strange gentleman, wearing a dress and doing indescribable things to an octopus type creature came to my attention.  Being of an inquisitive nature, I went off to see this apparition for myself.  Indeed this chap was wearing a dress, a nice tartan one with a dead badger sticking out of his groin.

Don't believe me ?  Take a look

    It was too late to save the badger, but the octopus type thingy may just pull through, but considering the agonizing wail it was letting out whilst receiving mouth to mouth resuscitation, I doubt it.
    Over on the rally field, other strange things were happening.  Someone mentioned fire breathing dragons - or something similar.  So, being of sound mind and body { stop laughing } I wandered over.


Now *THAT'S* what I call a blow job !

  Sunday morning, and time to head for home, but not until I'd been back to the pub for breakfast.  3 for a full brekky, complete with toast and coffee, just the thing I needed.
    Seeing as I was up in the Peak District, and the sun was shining, why should I go home the direct route ?  I took the somewhat scenic way back, covering 120 miles before I finally managed to hit home.

I just love the 'B' roads in the Peak District.

    So the Wobbly Wolf rally returned after a year's break.  Was it worth the wait?  In my opinion, yes; the Howlin' Wolf M.C.C. found a great site in a part of the world that's just made for biking.  The pub was plenty large enough, almost too large considering the lack of bodies on Friday night.  There again, I'm not a great lover of 'overly large' rallies, but I expected a few more folks to be there.  I enjoyed the ride there, I enjoyed the rally and I enjoyed the ride back, and when all's said and done, that's what it's all about.
    To the lads and lasses of the Howlin' Wolf M.C.C. - I'd like to say thanks - and all being well, I'll see you next year. Cheers.


Lone Wolf.