Sunday, September 17, 2006
SOOOOO STUFFED, BUT NOT AS BAD AS WAYNE GARDNER II
What a day.........phew.
It began with a phone call from Ian ( Adam's dad ) at 7am telling me he's outside and ready to pick me up.
That was all great except for the fact that I was told to be ready at 7:30am.
So even with me rushing to get ready, I was still out at 7:30.
It's like that when you're a cripple.
From left: Al, Adam & kid, Ian, Jacqui, Dean, Gwen, Kerry
We met up with Kerry ( who organised all this for me ), Adam, his sister Jacqui and mum Gwen, Dean, Paul in Cranbourne.
I parked up in the MRAA tent for a bit and helped out in the chopping up of sheets of A4 into tiny strips with people's names on them for the raffle draw because someone forgot to bring them and had to get their wife to do it. Or something like that.
A little later the Wollongong Wiz ( aka Wayne Gardner ) arrived by helicopter to sign autographs and flag the start of the Grand Prix Run.
And didn't he look second hand!!!!!
Poor old Wayne had obviously had a big night as he was wearing sunnies ( it was very overcast ) and hadn't had a shave.
I was introduced as the bent & buckled biker to be riding in the trike on this G.P. Run.
I told him a bit about how I came to be in this condition and how long my hospitalisation has dragged on for.
He then went about the job of signing autographs with amazing professionalism.
Even in his rather damaged state and the mob baying for his signature / time / a piece of him, he still conducted himself with utmost decency.
I don't know how he managed it to be quite honest.
The Wiz, Paul and Mick D.
Shortly afterwards I was bundled off to the trike and the whole procession took off to Phillip Island.
At a leisurely 60 / 70 km per hour it was the slowest trip ever, but none the less enjoyable.
It did feel a bit weird putting a helmet on again and I'd obviously put on weight in hospital as I had trouble doing up my jeans and had to get Al to help me with my leather jacket.
There were 3 police bikes out the front with a bunch of trikes following.
A little later, motorbikes started to filter through to the front, which then had to be 'herded' by the cops back behind the trikes.
It was rather funny to watch actually.
Like I saw somewhere once: organising bikers is like herding cats.
The road sides were full of locals waving and cheering the column on and amongst them I spotted this chap.
He was like some throwback to the late 1800's. ( it was a snapshot, scuse quality )
Very bizarre, but maybe not as bizarre as this bloke, who had a goggled dog on his fuel tank ( click on the photo, see the ears in front of the helmet? )
Eventually we arrived at the race track and I crutched my way in thanks to a complimentary ticket I'd received courtesy of Dale Maggs from the MRAA.
I got some weird looks too as I had my leather jacket on, back pack and my helmet strapped to my back pack.
People were staring at the weirdo cripple in bike gear and a helmet on the back, probably wondering how I got down there.
The track experience was fantastic, much like the last time I was there except that it was sunny and warm.
From the F18 flyover to the 125cc, 350cc and Moto GP bikes, the sights and sounds were awesome!!!
And the food and drink was just like I remembered, super expensive and little of it.
The variety of bikers and their associated bike ornaments ( usually scrawny underdressed slappers ), the non motorcycling pissed bogans, the racing girls ( honda, yamaha, etc ), the smells of highly expensive racing dinosaur remains being burned in the combustion chambers of highly strung racing machines!
It was all too much.
I met up with Gino and 2 of the Adasko brothers who helped and looked after me while I was down there.
Geoff C. didn't turn up as he spent the day trying to blow up a doll while the others were at the track ( He reckons he was trying to blow into a breathalyser and got readings which said he shouldn't be operating any kind of machinery, yeah right ).
At the end of it all Ian picked me up and brought me back to the hospital.
I was knackered.
Absolutely stuffed, but not like Wayne Gardener.
Different kind of stuffed.
There was no waking until 11a.m. the next day and all day today everything ached and hurt and throbbed, but it was a good kind of pain as I thoroughly enjoyed the activities responsible for it and the company of mates that surrounded me.
Next weekend it's off to the catch up with some Tassie mates in the NGK Rally of Melbourne.
.
It began with a phone call from Ian ( Adam's dad ) at 7am telling me he's outside and ready to pick me up.
That was all great except for the fact that I was told to be ready at 7:30am.
So even with me rushing to get ready, I was still out at 7:30.
It's like that when you're a cripple.
From left: Al, Adam & kid, Ian, Jacqui, Dean, Gwen, KerryWe met up with Kerry ( who organised all this for me ), Adam, his sister Jacqui and mum Gwen, Dean, Paul in Cranbourne.
I parked up in the MRAA tent for a bit and helped out in the chopping up of sheets of A4 into tiny strips with people's names on them for the raffle draw because someone forgot to bring them and had to get their wife to do it. Or something like that.
A little later the Wollongong Wiz ( aka Wayne Gardner ) arrived by helicopter to sign autographs and flag the start of the Grand Prix Run.
And didn't he look second hand!!!!!
Poor old Wayne had obviously had a big night as he was wearing sunnies ( it was very overcast ) and hadn't had a shave.
I was introduced as the bent & buckled biker to be riding in the trike on this G.P. Run.
I told him a bit about how I came to be in this condition and how long my hospitalisation has dragged on for.
He then went about the job of signing autographs with amazing professionalism.
Even in his rather damaged state and the mob baying for his signature / time / a piece of him, he still conducted himself with utmost decency.
I don't know how he managed it to be quite honest.
The Wiz, Paul and Mick D.
Shortly afterwards I was bundled off to the trike and the whole procession took off to Phillip Island.
At a leisurely 60 / 70 km per hour it was the slowest trip ever, but none the less enjoyable.
It did feel a bit weird putting a helmet on again and I'd obviously put on weight in hospital as I had trouble doing up my jeans and had to get Al to help me with my leather jacket.
There were 3 police bikes out the front with a bunch of trikes following.
A little later, motorbikes started to filter through to the front, which then had to be 'herded' by the cops back behind the trikes.
It was rather funny to watch actually.
Like I saw somewhere once: organising bikers is like herding cats.
The road sides were full of locals waving and cheering the column on and amongst them I spotted this chap.
He was like some throwback to the late 1800's. ( it was a snapshot, scuse quality )
Very bizarre, but maybe not as bizarre as this bloke, who had a goggled dog on his fuel tank ( click on the photo, see the ears in front of the helmet? )
Eventually we arrived at the race track and I crutched my way in thanks to a complimentary ticket I'd received courtesy of Dale Maggs from the MRAA.
I got some weird looks too as I had my leather jacket on, back pack and my helmet strapped to my back pack.
People were staring at the weirdo cripple in bike gear and a helmet on the back, probably wondering how I got down there.
The track experience was fantastic, much like the last time I was there except that it was sunny and warm.
From the F18 flyover to the 125cc, 350cc and Moto GP bikes, the sights and sounds were awesome!!!
And the food and drink was just like I remembered, super expensive and little of it.
The variety of bikers and their associated bike ornaments ( usually scrawny underdressed slappers ), the non motorcycling pissed bogans, the racing girls ( honda, yamaha, etc ), the smells of highly expensive racing dinosaur remains being burned in the combustion chambers of highly strung racing machines!
It was all too much.
I met up with Gino and 2 of the Adasko brothers who helped and looked after me while I was down there.
That's them in the bucket hats.
Geoff C. didn't turn up as he spent the day trying to blow up a doll while the others were at the track ( He reckons he was trying to blow into a breathalyser and got readings which said he shouldn't be operating any kind of machinery, yeah right ).
At the end of it all Ian picked me up and brought me back to the hospital.
I was knackered.
Absolutely stuffed, but not like Wayne Gardener.
Different kind of stuffed.
There was no waking until 11a.m. the next day and all day today everything ached and hurt and throbbed, but it was a good kind of pain as I thoroughly enjoyed the activities responsible for it and the company of mates that surrounded me.
Next weekend it's off to the catch up with some Tassie mates in the NGK Rally of Melbourne.
.
