Each Australia Day long weekend sees the Classic being run at the Phillip Island GP track.
A tri-nations cup held over the 3 days between England, Australia & New Zealand.
I'm sure all that is important to the blokes involved. But not to me. I just get to hear and see some of the most cherished bikes come out to do what they were built for.
Friday night had the house in it's usual turmoil of bag packing and fussing about.
Tents, lilo's, sleeping bags, clothes.
I'd even gone out and bought a new 74 litre Esky to compliment the older, smaller one. Unbeknownst to me, Sandy had the same idea and we had missed each other in K Mart by minutes.
Two new big Esky's. Brilliant.
I also bought a 4 X 3.something metre tarp and a couple of 2 metre poles. I had a plan.
The weather had promised to be a scorcher for the weekend and a tarp rigged off the side of the battle truck would prove itself worthwhile. But more of that later.
We got away just before lunch and headed South. Mick rang as we were halfway, complaining that nobody was at his place and he was so bored that he had to drink alone. I assured him we were on the way and I would be able to assist in his boredom.
The boys were pretty keen to get there too. They love the old bikes as much as I do.
Well, they tell me that.
Mick & Mel have 3 dirt bikes. This may be an influence on their enthusiasm.
We got to Mick & Mel's place and started unloading.
This is a feat in itself, there's 6 of us.
The deal was that the gear had to be set up before they could even think about having a ride.
Cans were opened, tents were pitched (in record time by some)and a loose plan for the weekend was formed.
Having a couple of kids appear at your side in body armour, boots, helmet & gloves is a hint that even I can pick up on so we made our way down the road to the park.
Sam & Bill took the 50 & 70 and I rode Mel's CRF230.
The usual reminders of behaviour and safety were dished out before they could take off.
Maybe I should have listened too..
Yup, that's my leg and someone else's bike.
Showboating. It'll get you every time.
I had come over towards our "pits" and was going to hand the bike on to Jess for a blat.
Deciding a big tail slide would look cool, I promptly gave the Honda a bootful of rear brake and slid in nicely until a quick grab of traction had me flat on my back.
"Now, Son, I hope you spotted my deliberate mistake there?"
All good. The boys took off for a few laps.
It's an ideal park to tootle the bikes around in; big, clear and a couple of bumps.
Sam & Bill being well behaved and safety conscious
Jess had never ridden a clutched bike before but took to it with ease. He has a relaxed style and looks quite loose on board.
Well, it didn't take long before Mick had to jump on. His words obviously ringing in his own ears "Don't tear up the park, take it easy, it's not a race, wear the correct safety gear"
Public Liability? What's that?
As happens when boys get together for a ride, no matter where it is, the pace picked up a little more, and a little more.
Until..
Sam wonders why he and the bike are no longer together
Shortly after, the girls came down to see how we were going.
A couple more laps and we decided to pull the pin and go fire up the barbecue.
Lucky really as the ranger had been called along with the cops.
The bikes were put away, apologies and promises to be good were made.
Jonesy & Sab arrived, Cricky followed shortly after. From there on people seemed to suddenly appear.
It might have just been me not paying attention though.
Marty & Suzii dropped in after a day of pitting for the Poms and brought Chuck & Max with them.
Much bench racing, bullshit & booze flowed on late into the night.
The stereo copped a decent workout as did the Esky's, the pool table and the livers of those in attendance.
I have no idea what time we wound up but everything was warm & fuzzy by that time.
Sunday arrived like it was late for an appointment. Hot & bothered and in a hurry.
We got to the track to find Uncle, Swifty & Jamie already propped at the fence on Turn 1.
Now, this is where my genius shines through.
1. Unfold the tarp.
2. String a length of the ubiquitous Telecom rope from the back of the Battle Truck through the eyelets and tie it off to the bull bar.
3. Stand 2 poles in outside corners and rope them to the ground.
Hmm.. no rope, no pegs, no hammer. They were still back at the house.
Sandy made a quick call to Mick had the said items on their way. Lucky.
Running jokes about the Ducati Courtesy Tent did the rounds only to be confirmed by Jamie returning from the pits.
Rookie, Dettie & the kids arrived, Gromit & Chris turned up too.
Not a bad showing. 22 of us all up.
That's the great thing about this meet. The ease of it all.
Parking is all over the outfield, the kids can run amok, you can find fence space wherever you want it.
If you take away the camo pant brigade, there isn't much left
The pits are open and you can go and have a poke around. The competitors are open and friendly, willing to chat about their bikes at the drop of a hat.
Racing. It's what we came for so we better pay a bit of attention to it.
Turn 1 is Nirvana for watching the old girls hammer passed.
The 4 strokes come through, cranked over hard to the right, stand it up, throw it back a cog and roll over into the start of the left hander.
The crackle and rumble on the overrun is both malevolent and glorious.
The 2 strokes, on the other hand, are electric. They don't back off until they switch sides for the loop. There is no snap, crackle or pop.
They just shut off. Complete silence until halfway into the loop and then they are switched back on.
No half measures, it's either on or off.
Either way, it pulls the calcium out of your spine and leaves you a little wobbly on the feet.
Robbie Phillis. He hunted hard, lap after lap.
I had taken the little old Kodak compact with us and let the kids run around with it. It often leads to some surprising candid photos.
Bill told me later in the day that he had taken some photos of the bikes. I said it wasn't much point as the camera wasn't really up to the task.
I was wrong.
I think this was the best shot of the day. It sums up the day beautifully
Once again, the 888 Vincent was my bike of choice. It is a thing of wonder.
The pit lane was another area that could have held my attention all day.
What other meet has free access to all areas?
Tucked away in the garages was some truly wonderful machinery. Old warriors from days gone by that have been lovingly maintained in battle trim.
Words cannot describe how pretty this Matchy was..
A look at both worlds. The Suzuki and Dominator in the one shed.
I don't even know what this is. That's not important. It is quite beautiful in it's simplicity.
Then there was this. Just sitting alone at the back of one of the pit garages.
With the day over, it was back to Mick & Mel's for a barbie and some bench racing, or bench spectatoring as the case may be.
A somewhat quieter night prevailed due to the sun, heat and general knackeredness of all involved.
Monday crawled in less enthusiastically than Sunday had.
We set about cleaning and packing up.
The boys wanted one last run on the bikes so a quick jaunt around the vacant block next door got it out of their systems. Yeah, right. I believe the addiction has taken hold.
Sandy had gone to look at a couple of real estate agents and the locals had a cricket match/babrie day planned at the park.
We were on our way to join them when Sandy & Lorna returned.
We spent an hour playing a bit of cricket with the kids and then had to be on our way.
A sleepy run home, a scrap tea ("feed yourselves, kids") and a preliminary write up of the day was followed by a good night's sleep.
Good racing, good weather and good mates. I wonder what the poor people are doing?
You know, I can still taste the racing fuels as I type this.
