Tuesday 01 Oct
It was a clear, brisk and pre-dawn morning that I waved Sam Von Schnitzel farewell and threw my leg over my trusted ’69 DL 200 for a 755km ride – to first compete in the always gruelling 2019 Mille, followed by a weekend of drunkenness, music and two stroke at the ANCSR 2019 in Goolwa SA. In essence this ride was to be the ‘shake out’ prep ride for the Mille, however having recently purchased the DL, and more recently having run new rings and piston in, the next 755km would either substantiate or refute my faith in the ‘Ochre Joker’ as a previous owner had named her. Leaving at 0430 hours meant I had a casual day’s riding ahead of me.
After only 14 hrs riding, I pulled up, unscathed and very thirsty at the Corio Hotel in Goolwa, where I was met by a small yet motley crew of Mille’ers who praised me with such honours as ‘idiot’, fool’ and robust questioning of my mental capacity. My aching arse cheeks did not disagree.
A very quick dust clearing pint of SA’s quality ale, saw me leave to find my digs for the night - a comfortable house with scenic views across Goolwa’s emerald green football oval and soon to be demolished clubhouse. I said a quick g’day and inserted myself into the shower, before the household of Chris, Nicky, Steve, Steve, Mo and myself headed back to the Corio Hotel for meet and greet and Mille handouts – banners, t-shirts and tasks for the following morning’s ride.
With the prospect of another 500km riding the next morning, it was an early night where I slept like the dead – however, Steve would later argue that the dead do not snore like I did – he got very little sleep.
After only 14 hrs riding, I pulled up, unscathed and very thirsty at the Corio Hotel in Goolwa, where I was met by a small yet motley crew of Mille’ers who praised me with such honours as ‘idiot’, fool’ and robust questioning of my mental capacity. My aching arse cheeks did not disagree.
A very quick dust clearing pint of SA’s quality ale, saw me leave to find my digs for the night - a comfortable house with scenic views across Goolwa’s emerald green football oval and soon to be demolished clubhouse. I said a quick g’day and inserted myself into the shower, before the household of Chris, Nicky, Steve, Steve, Mo and myself headed back to the Corio Hotel for meet and greet and Mille handouts – banners, t-shirts and tasks for the following morning’s ride.
With the prospect of another 500km riding the next morning, it was an early night where I slept like the dead – however, Steve would later argue that the dead do not snore like I did – he got very little sleep.
Wednesday 02 Oct
The intrepid Mille’ers met intrepidly on the steps of the Corio Hotel for a 0600hrs wave off for the Mille. As the teams were released at 1min intervals, and my own team, Tre Motorini positioned ready to go, I pondered how and why I was here – I had no answer so just gave up. But, I did not give up like some such as the team of Shano and Lee who after a full hour of riding decided to head straight to the day one finish location – the Loxton Pub!
Whilst this DNF was self-imposed, and showed a rare wisdom, the day also saw a few unintended scooter casualties with Nick’s DL having irreparable electrical issues and Nico seized his bullet proof PX to name a couple. A great day’s riding saw most of us complete a cheeky 500 km through some of the more scenic areas of SA, and all safe and sound by the end of day 1 at the Loxton Hotel for a well-deserved meal and a couple (or a few more than a couple for some) bevvies and some grouse local grape juice. That evening the Loxton Hotel was home to many a sleepy and weary scooterist, much snoring and much flatulence (it’s the two stroke fumes I tell you!).
Whilst this DNF was self-imposed, and showed a rare wisdom, the day also saw a few unintended scooter casualties with Nick’s DL having irreparable electrical issues and Nico seized his bullet proof PX to name a couple. A great day’s riding saw most of us complete a cheeky 500 km through some of the more scenic areas of SA, and all safe and sound by the end of day 1 at the Loxton Hotel for a well-deserved meal and a couple (or a few more than a couple for some) bevvies and some grouse local grape juice. That evening the Loxton Hotel was home to many a sleepy and weary scooterist, much snoring and much flatulence (it’s the two stroke fumes I tell you!).
Thursday 03 Oct
It was with much sadness that the next morning brought news that my two team mates – Nico and Bobby would be DNF’d – Nico due to his now irreparable seize and Bob due to … well …he rides a TV and it just wouldn’t start (something about time of the month or something something). So, with no one but the voices in my head to keep me company, the newly coined team of one – Rattus Rattus Temulentus - headed off with the rest of the teams to complete day 2 and another cheeky 500kms. This 500km quickly grew as, before I reached the first ferry crossing, I had missed the turn and added another 100km to the day! You see, one should never rely on their team mates for maps and navigation – especially if they bow out. My maps were shit! Thankfully the day was not too stressful for most, despite a ‘diesel in the tank’ issue, a serious high speed blow out (same rider wasn’t it Kev?) and the usual amount of road side fettling – jet adjustments etc. Main thing was everyone finished the day safely and without injury. Although some of the machines did not fare so well, all riders were in one piece. Day 2 finished as day 1 started – at the Corio Hotel where many stories of glory and triumph were exchanged as well as a good deal of bullshit. All were in high spirits (or was it relief?) at having completed the Mille and now looking forward to a weekend of hijinks and liver abuse!
Friday 04 Oct
Friday saw most Mill’ers arrive, some rather seedy from the night before, at one of Goolwa’s most memorable cafés (the name of which escapes me) for lunch and presentations. Trophies and praise were awarded to the worthy and unworthy. After lunch, some stayed in Goolwa, some went home and others chose to ride/drive to Adelaide in order to attend the rally ride out from Adelaide back to Goolwa the following morning – myself included. This time, instead of riding, I chose to load my now ever reliable (sort of) DL into Sean’s van for a lift, which meant I could wine-up a little at lunch – don’t you judge me. That evening saw me reunited with Sam, her having driven across from Melbourne that day with Chris Von Scooterhead, followed by beers, pizza and Lambretta fettling at Miller and Bec’s. This was again followed by much snoring and a comfy bed – thank you Millers (sorry Sam)
 Alan Dyer. Best and Fairest. Broke down and then went home and picked up his ute/trailer and drove back-up. |  Kev Brooks. Most spectacular break-down. Filled up with diesel, managed to drain the tank, then had a high-speed rear wheel blow out and kept it up right. |  Chris Johnson. Winner on handicap. |
Saturday 05 Oct
It was 1000hrs and time to kick off the ANCSR 19 from the Hotel Grand Chancellor – for me anyway, having missed the meet and greet the night before due to fettling in Miller’s garage (not a euphemism!). There was quite a turnout of scooters (didn’t count them) that departed sharply at 1030, at 1100, for a very well organised and safe ride to Goolwa (well done to the organisers). There were no incidents of note along the way – except for the annoying and ignorant individual who chose to ride with us in the face of advice to the contrary – on his automatic Vespa (the debate continues). Arriving at Goolwa everyone went their separate ways, before meeting up once again at the local football club for much hilarity, alcohol, music, alcohol, camaraderie, alcohol, dancing, alcohol, to the soundtrack of Adelaide’s own House of Ska, and the crowd-pleasing DJs. It was a great first night which resulted in many a sore head the next morning and a few noticeable absences for the planned ride out – myself included.
Sunday 06 Oct
The rather damp next morning had me pondering again how and why I was there – and once again I gave up looking for an answer and instead concentrated on lifting the fog from my brain and hangover. While Sam and Bec headed off to Victor Harbor; Chris, Miller and I, decided to play catch up to the main ride out – having missed the step off. This plan was short lived for me as my tail pipe decided to part ways with my expansion chamber on my exhaust resulting in an ungodly rattle and emphysemic coughing from my DL (after I had confirmed it wasn’t coming from me that is). I limped the DL home to the digs then commenced trying to sort out how I was going to get the pipe fixed. In short, thanks to Google and Goolwa Marine and Welding, I managed to get my pipe welded (not another euphemism) in the rain on a Sunday – charity costing me $50 which I did not mind parting with as I still had a ride back to Adelaide and then Melbourne to look forward to in the days ahead.
From the ride out, those without tail pipe issues headed back to the football club for the show and shine, where some great examples of the marques we love so much were on display. It was a tough field for the judges to contend with, but the winners were worthy
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The evening again saw us all at the football club for the trophy presentations, followed by much hilarity, alcohol, music, alcohol, camaraderie, alcohol, dancing, alcohol, and this time tunes from Adelaide’s own Salvy and the Hired Help and the DJ floor fillers. Again, it was a great night which resulted in more sore heads the next morning and once again, everyone had a great night which was a credit to the band, DJs, organisers and bar staff.
Monday 07 Oct
As with most Rally’s the day to go home came all too soon and was met with exhaustion and hangovers. With most having already left, it was a small group of myself, Miller, Bec, Sam and Chris who rode back to Miller and Bec’s digs in Adelaide for some well-deserved rest and reminiscing about the weekend. A quick pub meal and an early off for Melbourne the next morning meant an early bed for us that night
Tuesday 08 Oct
0430 Tuesday morning was dark and wet as I pulled the DL out of Miller’s driveway (again not another euphemism) and commenced my 755km return journey home. It was at this time, pondering again how and why I was here, wet, cold and tired, that I decided not to ever ponder this again – I will never know except to say that my reason for doing what I do is probably not much different to every other Mille’er and Rally goer – we love the scooters, we love the camaraderie, and we love the challenge of keeping both machine and body going. Again thankfully I had a trouble free scoot home except this time – having a day up my sleeve – I chose to break the journey in Ballarat. It was here, in a truck stop outside of Ballarat, that I learnt what truck drivers and BMW driving business men get up to when they think no one can see them …………I was shocked ……….. but that is another story!
See you all in Tasmania 2020 ………….. and ‘get a rat up ya!
Col
Col
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