Whilst bed time and waking up time seemed very close together, and while a dull ache was gradually being soothed by a handful of nurafen, Sunday morning in Napier was a treat. Our beach front Motel offered unobstructed views of the water, and the early risers, the joggers, the walkers, and those being dragged along on a lead, were all enjoying the boardwalk.
As the sun rose, two little girls from the room next door, perhaps 2 & 3 years old, played on their scooters while Mum and Dad watched on, pleased for the respite, and so doing, brought a chuckle to this expectant grand father’s face. We had agreed on a 8am start, with a Gas Station breakfast planned at the BP as we left town – however, Butch and Crads broke the tranquillity half an hour earlier, a warning to those punters trying to enjoy a Sunday morning sleep in that there was worse to follow. Harleys don’t do quiet, especially Butch’s, which has a very sharp roar. Despite the sunshine, we knew the ominous forecast would soon bring pretty shitty conditions, and everyone, even the ever optimist Garth and Angus opted for layers of wet weather gear. So, gassed up, with BP pies, sausage rolls and coffees to sustain us (my first pie was not what I thought was - Gourmet steak & cheese proved to be Butter Chicken, and still being slightly delicate, I binned it, unable to face the taste or smell, and was thankfully more successful the second time), we rolled out, Taupo bound. As usual, we started fairly slowly, and as man and machine slotted into the grove (perhaps as nurafen kicked in), we picked up the pace, keen to get as many km’s as possible under our wheels before the rain started. Fairly early in the piece our progress was impeded by a large flock of turkeys blocking the road - these buggers are solid, and to hit one would be to ruin everyone's day, with both bird and biker likely to suffer badly. The higher we climbed, the colder it got, with intermittent and sometimes quite heavy rain coming and going. The only policeman we saw was approaching us on a long straight, but he flicked on his radar a few moments too late, by which time 14 bikes had shed enough speed to cause little concern, our Sunday morning untroubled. More gas in Taupo, and an opportunity for adjustments to be made by those whose wet weather gear was not working too well. The stitching of the crotch area of wet weather pants is typically an area that fails, and this was the case with a few of our crew, (and no one likes a cold, wet crotch), but the oilskins I favour worked a treat. Jeff knows his boots don’t leak because when they fill with rain that has run down his legs, they stay full! I bullied the guys into pressing on – more heavy weather beckoned and menacing black clouds promised that conditions would worsen the further north we progressed, and with it any thoughts of stopping to catch the All Blacks – Argentina game went out the window. My new Avon rear tyre gave great comfort as Beyoncé and I aquaplaned at one point, knowing that eventually it would bite into something solid and we’d be away – the old Dunlop, whilst having plenty of tread, would have had me reciting Hail Mary’s knowing that a lot was riding on the next second or two, with an unhappy outcome a real possibility. But, we had places to be, so not slowing down too much (or not for long), we kept the pace on, quick but safe, next stop Putararu for more gas, and another gas Station pie (so how’s the diet going?). The long straight roads of the Hauraki Plains, whilst boring and featureless in the heavy rain, allowed us to make good time without having to worry about too many greasy corners, but as usual, the closer we got to Auckland, the more the traffic thickened. Last stop of the day, at least for those with smaller tanks and others keen to farewell buddies was BP Bombay, but most of the Northern contingent forged on, whilst another who shall remain unnamed, not willing to chance post lunch public toilets, rushed for the comforts of home. So, the 2017 Rusty Nuts has been ticked off, everyone home safe with more tall tales to store away until next time (especially the well-endowed but very smelly Helen). 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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