Bungendore & Araluen - December 07 -Chomp & Chat

 ( a racy tale of speed, coffee and hot machinery)

The Offending Parties:

Derek and Margaret Titheridge - GL1800
Judy – a beautiful 535 Virago
Alan Rolph - VT 600
Neil Goldfinch - CBR1000F
Gordon White - Hyosung GT650S
Norm (Seamus) Mac Lachlan - an Ugly BMW
Suzy (Suzy) Ansley – a pretty BMW R1150R
Alec Ellis – a red Ducati
David (Humongous) McIlroy – Sprint 1050
Nick and Terese Hicks – M109R
John (Lovenuts) G – Vulcan and his bloody GPS
Norm (Air Head) O’Meara – 1981 R100 CS BMW
Mark Delf and Shazza – Yamaha T-Max
Flip – the lovely 750 Virago

The recorded version of events:
Oh God, is it morning already? I feel like I’ve just spent the night on a train going nowhere, only to be kicked out and forced to dance to ridiculously old music in a hot and musty old town hall. Please wake me up and tell me it’s a bad dream. No such luck of course, it was only the annual (I nearly wrote anal then, good thing I picked that up as the spellchecker wouldn’t have) Branch Xmas party. And what a night it was too. I feel sorry for all you buggers that missed out, it really was a fabulous night out. But I digress, this is a ride report of the morning after, and as you have probably worked out, the evening was long and the night short. I struggled to get up and get moving. I was revived by two coffees, two Panadol and a bowl of porridge, and out the door ON TIME for the first time in a long time (that could have been the 10 am start). I hate to think how those who partook of a few ales would have been feeling!

I arrived at Watson servo at 5 to 10 on the lovely 750 Virago, filled up the tank and emptied the bladder and took my place at the rear line up (I was relieved to see my nemesis on the other lovely 750 Virago hadn’t showed up – I hate competition!). It seems that the regulars had taken the day off and we were rendered leaderless. No problem, we just found the person with the lowest membership number and ‘democratically’ elected Alan Rolph ride leader for the stint to Bungendore. It turns out it was a good choice – he took us through Wamboin then up to Mac’s Reef Road to Bungendore, me on the lovely 750 Virago. To be honest I have never taken the road through Wamboin and was more than pleasantly surprised to see how pretty it was, although that could have more to do with the lovely 750 Virago than anything else.

We stopped at the woodwork’s café and promptly took over the place – by the time I got in (I was tail-end Charlie even though it was the shortest ride in history) Judy had completely rearranged the tables and chairs and was sitting down with a fresh cup of coffee – stuffed if I know how she managed that. Talk about the organising queen!  After totally confusing the waiting staff we settled in to drink coffee and some of us ate some amazingly good food. Suzy was hankering after the “Lemon Curd Tart”, but changed her mind after ‘someone’ managed to procure a piece of chalk off the innocent chef and changed the blackboard menu to read “Lemon Turd Cart”. I DID tell him that I was going to play a trick on someone with the chalk; I just forgot to mention it was him that was the victim. Oh dear, another place I am not welcome back to.

It was decided by some of the members of the “special interest sub-group of the Canberra Branch of the Ulysses Club” (for want of a better name), to continue on further as the ride part of the day seemed all to short. Everyone was asked if they wanted to come, but in the end a smaller group of 11 head off to the Araluen Pub, me on my lovely 750 Virago.

WOW – what a great ride that was!! The lovely 750 Virago had a wonderful time cruising past beautiful countryside – lush and green from all the recent rain. I had never been down that stretch of road either, so was thrilled to discover some new corners to throw the old girl around. The pub was nearly empty, with just a few locals hanging in the front bar so the publican actually seemed pleased to see us rock up. Those of us who hadn’t eaten at Bungendore were now ready to eat and ordered some great pub tucker, although I think Dave is allergic to green food – or maybe he just only eats brown food – whatever, he had a crumbed schnitzel with gravy AND BBQ sauce. UGH. Grosse.

Araluen Pub with Judy the Organiser

Conversation bordered on the obscene at times, I really must remember to stop hanging around these degenerates. When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I went inside and threw some money into one of those motorcycle racing arcade games. Just to show I am serious about safety I donned my helmet and gloves before putting the money in the slot. Seamus managed to join me in the nick of time and we had a fast but furious race to the death, with a number of time extensions. I do believe Seamus won, but I was ok with that as I wasn’t on the lovely 750 Virago and couldn’t expect to win. That was so much fun that Dave wanted to have a go, and as I hadn’t fallen off and hurt myself I decided to have another go too. Life gets in the way sometimes though, and my “bike” wouldn’t accept any coins, so not to leave poor Dave by himself I quickly hopped up on the back of his “bike” and agreed to be his “Bitch” for a few minutes. I tried desperately to help him by leaning to the left and leaning to the right, and screaming wildly in his ear “GO DAVE, GO FASTER, DAVE”, but my ride with Dave was all to short. I guess he just lacks the stamina to keep up with me.

Flip tests Daves Hearing
 

We packed up, and headed off, with Mark in the lead. Seamus had gone ahead and took some great photos of us coming up the mountain, me on the lovely 750 Virago. All too quickly we got into Braidwood where I filled the lovely 750 Virago with fuel. As I came out of the servo everyone was getting back on their bikes so I kept going and that’s how I ended up being Mutha Ducka for the next leg of the trip home. 

I was doing well, and started to settle in for the run home on the lovely 750 Virago. I was forced to overtake a number of cars who were sitting on the speed limit and once in front, slowed down to wait for the rest of the mob to catch up. That’s when it happened. The little blue and red flashing light snuck up behind me. Mr Plod. Bugger. You know the routine, the officer was very nice, and I tried my damnedest to get him to let me off. I did a lot of smiling and laughing for the camera recording the incident, asked him if he knew senior constable Lisa (See my previous ride reports or ask Saint Peter Arday for further details), which he did, and I even confessed that now he’d caught me I’d have to move house, but it was all to no avail. I copped a $238 fine and loss of 3 points for being over 15km over the speed limit. I was grateful, it could have been worse – I had slowed down to let the others catch up! I rode home with a little bit more decorum (some might say with my tail between my legs, but it was actually the lovely 750 Virago).
  

If only Flip had heeded the warning signs

I swear that I saw the finger of God sticking it to me in the clouds on the way back to Tilley’s for a debrief, where I told the rest that I was happy to throw myself on my sword for them. Life’s good.