It was my bike club's motorcycle rally last weekend: Ridgeway Motorcycle Club's 11th George to the Dragon Rally. The weather stayed mostly fine, the tickets were sold out back in February, we managed to negotiate the new licensing laws so we were allowed to sell alcohol, and so sell alcohol we did. We started setting the site up first thing on Friday morning, and by lunchtime the first punters started rolling up, bikes laden down with tents and other camping paraphernalia. The first barrels of beer were tapped, the bar opened, and we were off!
Then the first challenge of the day: something on the food van had an argument with the electrics in the hall and tripped the switch, knocking out the power to all the sockets. Not good news, as we had fridges to run for the bar, not to mention the PA to run for the disco and bands. Hmmm, 200 bikers on their way, no food, warm beer and no music. Nope, not an option! Luckily there were a couple of electrickery folk on the team, so after much to-ing and fro-ing, the problem was isolated, the food van switched to generator power, and we had sockets that worked again. Phew.
Next challenge: the food van generator ran off propane, and they didn't have enough to last the weekend having expected to run from power from the hall. So, after some debate on potential suppliers, a couple of us piled into my car to go in search. Second stop lucky, we found a hire centre that could swap us the correct size of canister, and even more luckily, a fellow biker worked there, so we got it for free - what a star! Back to the site and some happy chefs, and having finished my driving duties, I decided it was time to quality control check the cider. The Heritage was lovely, the Cheddar Valley a rather alarming day-glo orange, and not really to my taste. I did my best to empty the barrel of Heritage over the weekend, but it defeated me!
A few hours later and the beer was flowing, the hall was full of happy bikers, the band was playing, and a good time was being had by all. A good time to start harassing people for money, otherwise known as flogging them raffle tickets. Now this is a job I love - as a social butterfly, it gives me an excuse to go around the rally and chat to just about everyone - fantastic! Much bogeying and general merriment later, we finally called it a night.
The next day dawned far too early for my liking, and being told that I looked "a tad second hand" on my way to the bathroom for a scrub-up did nothing for my ego! Things picked up from there, though, despite a tour of Oxford in search of another gas canister for the food van, as the place we used on Friday was closed. The sun came out, we had plenty of volunteers for the silly games, and apart from the scooter and quintane taking a bit of a battering in the bike jousting, there were no casualties!
Two more bands, prize giving and raffle, more quaffing and bogeying and another late night later I staggered off back to my tent. Somewhere between there and getting up on Sunday morning I waylaid my voice, which made the clear-up on Sunday a little quieter than normal. Lots of compliments on a great rally, and lots of hugs from those leaving, everything was packed up, floors were swept and mopped, and the fields cleared of stray bits of litter. We all retired back to our respective homes, and the rally was over for another year.
So now I'm exhausted having worked and partied my bits off for the weekend, and all in the name of charity and paying it forward. Once the accounts have been finalised, we'll be donating all profits once again to the Oxfordshire Medibikes and the National Association for Bikers with a Disability. And next weekend I get to go to another club's rally and let them do all the hard work - hurrah!
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