My Mate Scrambles

[Klavdy]

My mate Scrambles is not a professional writer but jeez he comes out with some beauties.

Below is one of his recent ones, to me ,it sorta captures the essence of why we ride.










"Scrambles wrote:Today, I rode with God.

Or to be more precise, I experienced the closest thing to a holy experience that cynical agnostics like myself would hope to endure.

Riding in the rain has never really been an issue for me. "It's only water" my Father used to say, and there's no denying the rush achieved by hitting the road on days that make many people sniff at their bikes and take the car instead.

I was on my way to work and in no hurry when a particularly bad downfall coincided with me needing fuel, so I stopped at a Servo, fuelled and prepared to sit out the worst of the deluge. I was happy to sit there under the awning; finishing my coke and watching the Yr 12 student's skirts blow up in the wind, but a hunched figure appeared out of the grey and approached me.

It was an old man. His brown slacks and pale bone shirt were soaked through. The folded newspaper he held aloft had failed miserably as a make shift umbrella and had turned a sickly dark grey. Over his shoulder he hoisted a plastic bag containing the scant few ingredients on the shopping list of any pensioner of European descent; carrots, tomatoes, onions, obscure tins and cut price meats.

If his face was fashioned from leather it couldn't have been more creased or weathered, and a pair of tired yet expressive eyes peaked out from between the folds. He looked at me and then cast his gaze over the bike, a juvenile smile creasing his face. His accent was thick like molasses.

"Escuse...ahhh...Is nice bike." His hands began to dance. "I ride the Ducatis...back home."
I thanked him and asked if he really had any other choice of bike to ride. His laugh was that of a dedicated smoker. "Ha, no...you only ride the Ducatis. Is only bike." Looking back at my Kwaka, he ran a hand over the fuel tank "This is nice bike though".

My new friend looked up at the dark sky and shook his sodden newspaper. "When sun..." once again his hands danced skyward "...when sun...is very good fun. You go very fast. In this..." He gestured towards the river that had replaced Victoria Road "...is not much fun." He then stopped and looked me up and down.
"You ride in wet?"
I shrugged and nodded.
"Is good with sun, but you ride in wet."
He paused, sniffed, and then wiped the water off my pillion seat.
"You happy though, you make fun."
With that he nodded goodbye, turned and hobbled away out from the awning and into the rain.

Truth be told, aside from drawing a kind of humble encouragement from his words I didn't think much of the conversation until 10 minutes later when I was crossing Gladesville Bridge.

Bike shrieking, the sting of rain on my face, droplets exploding across my goggles, the wind howling across my bow...I realised I was grinning.

I was exultant. I was jubilant.

By the time I had reached the lights at the bottom, I was down-right fucking euphoric. It must have been a strange sight for the gentleman, warm and dry in his BMW, to look up and see a sopping, black clad rider looking straight back at him and laughing with honest derision in his eyes.

"You make fun."

An old Italian man, standing under an awning in a servo in Ryde has delivered the broken English equivalent to the meaning if life: Proof positive that if you love something enough, it will haunt you through life like a shadow follows the sun, and no matter how wet, cold or miserable things are you will still have the time of your life.

Many thanks, old man.

When you close your eyes at night, may you be once again racing through the hills under a European sun."

[Shaun]

Your m8t seems to have summed it all up very nicely, and I think everyone who reads it will be able to relate; hence the Kookaloo.

[Dan Filetti]

Very nice K-man, and look at that, not a bit of anti-Americana in it!  There's hope for you yet.

Dan

[feederbb]

Reminds me of a day a friend and I decided to race a local motocross clubs event at our home track.  We had never raced with the club before and weren't sure what class to race in our age group (40+). The president of the club was in "our" class that we figured were gentlemen of equivalent speed.  He informed us after practice  that we might be "too fast" for the class and if we were after the first moto we would be moved up a class.  Well we both finished in front of the president in the moto, long motos (which this club noted separated the men from the boys) it was well over 100 degrees and getting hotter by the minute.  The prez came over and informed us we had to move up so our points wouldn't count against anyone in the club since we would be in a different class the second moto.  He laughed a little chuckle and jokingly said UNLESS we wanted to race the first moto of the "other" class which was on the line next race.  My friend and I put some fuel in the bikes, rode over to the line and the gate dropped.  Another frickin 40 minute moto!  Think I finished next to last or even last.  Same in the second moto.  Almost threw up, passed out, fell I think 3 times in the last moto, my grandma could have passed me, but I got to race THREE motos for the price of two.  The prez just shook his head at us as we laughed like a couple of wackos.  I had so much dirt in my teeth from smiling the whole time I was racing.  Probably the most fun I had ever had at a race!  Yes, if you love what you do, you will do it no mater what, and enjoy every monumental minute, and the more you endure while doing it, the greater the memories will be!     Kevin