After a night of fairly serious rain, the early risers enjoyed a pleasant morning - having said that, as is usual with these weekends, going to bed time and getting up time can be fairly close, with a couple of recycling bins of empties to show for it.
Jeff had been master chef for the previous night's BBQ, and again took up the tongs for breakfast, with leftover sausages, steak and potatoes (reappearing fried in butter), eggs and the usual bits and pieces. Neville and I we allocated washing up duties while our respective better halves practised being ladies of leisure - they seem to have that down pat. The team then splintered, some heading of to the Lead Foot (via a café for heart starter), others to art galleries, while I enjoyed the peace and quiet of a walk, then an empty campsite, a book to read and a wee nap in the sun - marvellous. I caught up with the petrol heads a bit later in the day (after my tranquillity had come to an end with the return of the arty party...) and enjoyed a few hours of motor racing action - I'm not normally into this sort of thing, but the action was full on, the organisers having done a sterling job. What a cross section of motor racing history - state of the art race, rally and drift cars piloted by the young thrusters of today, contrasting and competing with many much older cars and drivers. Scott Dixon manfully pushed his 1906 racer (100 years old) faster than it had any right to go through the tight corners - apparently he needed a special insurance policy (Scott, not the priceless car) before his US team would allow him to participate. A great day in the blazing sun (after a wet first day), enjoyed by the many thousands who had turned up for the experience, (and to race). Back on the Harleys, keen for a cold shower and even colder beer (perhaps a few), before communal Fish & Chips from the Frying Scotchman in Cooks Beach. again, the sensible retired at a reasonable hour, the rest drifting off slowly, leaving a hard core to solve the problems of the world, Moth (he who stays up all night), Neville (MacGyver, who with his leatherman can fix most things), Joe 90, ex Army, ride leader extraordinaire, (knowing more secret back roads that the rest of us combined), and of course, me - who should know better. Jeff was again on breakfast duty, with remarkably few casualties apparent from the night before. Our 9.30 departure time soon rolled around and we were off, the roar of bikes bringing every little boy (and their Dad's) to watch us go - unfortunately one of us (me) got 500m along the road before realising something had been left behind. We headed the "wrong way" around the peninsula, and in so doing, missed the worst of the traffic, and enjoyed what is widely recognised as one to the best motorcycle roads anywhere. Barb and Jane (in the car) had set up camp at Bugger Café, our prearranged stop for lunch, before the final leg home. A slight technical issue (a shaft in my gearbox appears to have stripped), so I was stuck in 4th gear for the last 100kms - something for the good people at Auckland Harley to sort ot tomorrow. Another great weekend, the camaraderie of good bastards and Harley people very hard to beat. Comments are closed.
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Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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