Jindabyne Wed 26th to Sun 30th January, 2011 �- Rear Rider Perspective

Paul Southwell

Honda CBR1000

Phillip Hotschilt

Suzuki GSX1300

Misho Zrakic

Honda CBR1000

Ben Fuller

Suzuki GSXR1000

Tim Emons

Honda CBR1000

Rob Jones

Suzuki GSXR1000

Damir Djikic

Honda CBR1000

Bill Simpson

Suzuki GSXR1000

John Rousseaux (rear)

Honda CBR1000

Rob Langer

BMW R1150 GS

Ron Johnston

Honda CBF1000

Rod Merrett

BMW HP2

Ben Warden

Honda CBR954

Julie Johnston

car

Pina Garasi

Honda CBR600

Barb Peters

car

Cliff Peters

Kawasaki ZX10

 

17 people, 15 bikes

 

��There�s gold in them there hills�. An expression we�ve all heard before, but in this instance, purely figurative, though it could be considered literal when motorcycling is applied.

We gathered at Berwick. Plenty of shiny machinery with full tanks and fresh rubber in tow, gear packs bulging with all those personal extras one felt necessary for the trip; our cluster was complete for a 9.00am departure.

The weather gods didn�t play ball for the first few hundred kilometres, a fine drizzle barely enough to warrant the fitment of wet weather gear. Some did, and some didn�t, though should have in hindsight. The tyranny of distance had moisture weeping through to the flesh. Damn. The bikes lost their lustre also, after all those hours of keeping up appearances. Damn. Never mind. I�m on a silver-black phantom bike with the metal hot and the engine hungry, I think I�m gunna be alright. Luckily, I was alright by Orbost.

Orbost to Delegate is a mighty fine stretch of road. Mighty fine. The roads were dry by this stage, and I found myself on the rear of a Hyabusa painting the roads as only a Hyabusa can. I provided an accompaniment to its 105km masterpiece. I was truly enjoying riding. It was just a taste of the gold in the hills afar.

Robby Langer�s Beemer fell over in the dirt, but he is just fine, thank you Lord. Not that a home cooked meal and a personal massage, didn�t help. All is good. Now all we need to do is cut a VW engine in half and present it as a piece offering to the gods. We must also pay homage to an ocker Aussie. Bless him. And he does great wheelies�

Lunch was nice.

Pina set a cracking pace for the afternoon. Paul and I had trouble keeping up. We threw caution to the wind and tried though. It was all mighty fine, for she is riding quite well.

Jindabyne is a lovely place. I�ve been there before, but not to spend four days having fun with my mates. A BBQ had been supplied and prepared basically on our arrival. The ladies (Julie and Barb) had it all ready before I knew it was on the table. I had been down the local store getting some grog and dog food and was late to dine. I just can�t tell you how two glasses of merlot warmed the system and all the warm fuzzies welled up through my persona. Even Damir looked good, and was, �cause together we broke bread and swilled on the wine. I love you Damir, like a brother. Nothing more, nothing less. You too, Misho. And all those in attendance. Wine is good for me �in moderation.

Each morning I sat at the corner of a dining table watching Ben stand in the same spot and heat some sort of goo in the microwave, then meticulously slice a banana into it. It was a special d�j� vu. Pleasing to an extent, watching such secretarial efficiency applied to the task. I know he was just preparing breakfast, but it felt reassuring.

The leading was completely down pat. The man is some sort of machine. �John�, he says, �I never rev my engine above 6,000rpm.� I would suggest both literally and figuratively.

The rest of the week became blurry, not so much from the wine, but from 1,000�s of kilometres of riding. Two particular rides come to mind: �follow the yellow brick road� and The Alpine cutting Way. Oh, I must make a mention of the �logging forest� road. Fast and nasty it was. The boys were all raving after that one.

The food was just fantastic all weekend. I was able to eat like a puppy �till my belly hurt and sleep it off for an hour or so before I rose to apply ridiculous innuendo to keep my small mind amused. And then I farted. My special way of showing just how at home I felt. But Kate doesn�t appreciate it like you guys did. Must have been all the beer I borrowed from Paul.

By Day 5, I was slipping into a delusion that this was my life. Riding furiously every day, coming home, having a belly full of food, beer and laughs. Had I stumbled onto some form of Nirvana? I believe it was close.

The ride home left at 8.00am, delusion left in its wake, engines all idling and helmets sliding over our craniums in a well-orchestrated fashion. Melbourne, here we come.

I truly enjoyed the Delegate to Orbost road, the metal was hot, the engine was hungry and I was definitely feeling alright. Sticky, sticky tyres on hot roads had a certain slime-ability about it and I was finally able to over-take Pina, who waved me through. Perhaps she could smell the testosterone over the burnt oil coming out of Misho�s bike. Or was it that I was continuously catching her up? Whatever the case, I stopped periodically to ensure she had a safe passage. Thankyou for your compliance and understanding, Pina. You�re a great gal.

The closer we got to Melbourne the hotter it became. I felt my 003�s would just melt and I would be on canvas by the time we arrived at Longwarry. Easy on the throttle as I straightened up out of each corner did actually save the centre and I arrived with a couple of thou above the wear indicators. They�ll be good for one more ride, won�t they Ben?

In conclusion, I cannot thank all my riding partners enough. So thankyou Ben, Cliff, Barb, Rod, Phill, Pina, Misho, and Damir. A special thanks to Ron and Julie who carted up my bag of stuff, Paul for all the beer, Tim- man you can ride and Bill. I�ve chosen not to thank Rob, �cause he was thanked by a lovely lady he bumped into. May the VW gods take care of your bike, buddy. And thankyou anyways.

May the MSR live long and prosper.

John Rousseaux