Rolling back the memories, this was my first scooter run
since 1985. I didnít sleep well the night before due to constant
reminder of engine seizure I had almost 20 years ago on the same run.
Saturday started out perfectly sun and scooter which started on 3
or 4 fourth kick.
Packed the sleeping bag and spares the night before, so all I had to do
was get a caffeine fix and breakfast down. Rode the short distance to
Fremantle Round house, which was built to house the prisoners in the
1800ís (not a good omen).
Most of the lads had arrived early; as usual Adrian wanted to
make a grand entrance and arrived late with Simon. Adrianís Vespa
looked uncluttered of camping gear; he had palmed it off to Simon who
was using the club Vespa. Simon's Vespa looked like a rent a Camel with
Adrian's ground sheet, pillow, air mattress, sleeping bag, back-pack,
gazebo, swimming pool etc.
introductions had been done, we departed to meet the seconded crew in
Rockingham. We had gone only one kilometre before some local
Fremantle resident wanted to give his own tradition farewell by calling
Gareth a skinhead and gobbing at Adrian. It was like the old days, when you had to be on guard
constantly for incoming missiles or Holden/Ford that tried to pry off
your scooter at 70k an hour. He obviously didnít what to talk to
us because bolted out of sight as quick as Gareth can knock down a pint
We finally made it on to the coastal roads before Sharpie's
Silver Special starts blowing smoke rings and miss firing. The verdict
was to go home and drink beer and earn some brownie points at home. No problem, but we soon realised that Sharpie had one of the
three tents, meaning we all had to get to know each other a little
better at the camp site. He refused our polite attempts to get him
to drive down and bring the tent.
Before we get to
Rockingham we had three more breakdowns, but nothing serious. The
group were waiting patiently for the scooters to arrive, heads counted
off we went for the 160k ride to Bunbury.Bunbury
has changed quite a bit over the last 20 years the roads are dual
carriage way and has plenty of service station for fuel and a bite to
eat. County people on the roads are not quite sure about a group of
scooters clogging up the roads, but most gave us friendly smile or wave.
Trucks are different story, when they pass you hang on to scooter grips
like death was about to descend. Although one dickhead in a 4WD decide
that the West Oz road death carnage wasnít quite high enough. They
tried to take out the cars in the opposite lane while overtaking
scooters and a truck while crossing double white lines.
The group had split into two and the first group arrived at the Caltex
petrol station 5 k from Bunbury when word comes through that Canadian
Rob has seized his engine and was in the process of sticking it in the
back up vehicle. The problem was it wouldnít fit so Adrian decides the
best way is to give the broken Lambretta petrol tank mouth to mouth so
we could lay it down in the back of the 4wd without spillage, only to
realise when letting the air out of the tyres it will fit in standing
up. We almost made it without any collateral damage.
decides he canít wait for the pub and decides try the same as Adrian
to suck a litre of petrol from the tank of his scooter but forgets spit
it out, for the next 24 hours heís bringing up petrol. Teach him for
over filling the tank. We hit the town and find the local Irish
pub and the first rounds are ordered and downed before the second group
arrives. Wayne a local resident also meets up in his lovely series two
lammy. Wayne provides us with details the best pubs and clubs to visit.
After a couple of pints we head back to the camp site to pitch one less
tent (thanks Sharpie) and try and freshen up for the session tonight.
You couldnít have asked for more at the Koombana camp site, we had
Estuary views and ample space for scooters and tents. It was walking
distance to town which is blessing at 3 in the morning. At eight bucks a
head plus another fifteen for fuel, it made for a cheap weekend.
Unfortunately Duane managed to part with three hundred for the weekend.
Try explaining that to the wife!
Bunbury is a
happening place, night life and full of young people ready for a good
time. We had consumed copious amount of alcohol well before 10pm, and
tried the wares at three different venues. The boys kicked on till 3am
before deciding it time to head back to the camp site. Although a couple
of lads decide the night wasnít finished until they woke the whole
camp site up with details of the burger joint that wouldnít give him a
coke because he tried to steal all the mustard and tomato sauce packets.
Adrian also tells me he vomited in some local car who kindly
offered him a lift back to the campsite. Nice one son. While Gareth
decided heíd make a good postie and abandon his unfinished burger in
somebody's letter box.
morning started early, first disaster to arise was missing keys. Duane
had committed the cardinal sin and lost his keys to the TV 175. After
searching his soiled jeans from the night before, Tim tries his ignition
keys from his Spanish 1984 Lambretta and fits his Italian 1963 model
Lambretta. Thank god only one set of keys was made to fit all. Eventual
the cleaner turns up with his keys from the toilet block.
The ride back to Perth was uneventful full no breakdowns or mishaps. We
had planned to assemble at the bakery at Falcon just outside Mandurah
for fuel and lunch. After 100k of riding in hot conditions, food and
drink was enthusiastically welcomed by all riders. Some of the best and
most expensive pies are sold here, all washed down with coffee. After
some good old fashion bullshitting, we hit the road. We had a tail wind
all the way back, which made it a quick trip back to Fremantle and
A big thank for PLSC for organizing a great weekend.