Mt Donna Buang & WSB BBQ MK II Sunday 27^th March 2011

On the ride:
Misho Zrakic/Pina Garasi	Honda CBR1000	Rick Van	Yamaha YZF600
John Rousseaux (rear)	Honda CBR1000	Raman Biaroza	Kawasaki GPX250
Ben Warden (leader)	Honda CBR954	Marc Marais	Triumph 675
			6 bikes, 7 people
At the BBQ:
Ron Johnston	Ian Payne	Kate Stewart	Dennis Lindemann
Rob Langer	Paul Southwell	John Willis	13 people

Great weather all week. Bike is shiny, birds are a chirpin’, hunger pangs being honed as I went shopping to cater for the weekend’s BBQ.

· 24 sausages

· 14 porterhouse steaks (1” thick)

· 6 large onions

· 500gm mushrooms

· 8 carrots

· 4 cos lettuces

· 2 cucumbers

· 2 punnets of little tomatoes

· 2 loaves of bread

· 4 litres of soda water and lime, lemon and bitters cordial.

And of course, ancillary equipment. That should do it, I’m thought.

Sunday arrives and so does the rain. I tried very hard to be in denial and trudged up to the bike gear wardrobe. Bah, just a morning shower, it’ll clear, I tell myself and gear-up as if I’m going on a brisk morning ride. “But it’s raining” says Kate.” Nah” I say with an impish, childlike response, knowing she is right, which is rare, considering I’m the pants wearer and all.

I concede. Now I’m covered from head to toe in plastic. Kisses and reminders to be safe from Kate have me on my way to Berwick for the morning’s ride start.

Tank full of gas, I wait for everyone to arrive. A bike parks around the corner of the tyre repair building. The rider alights and begins a sequence of Karate moves. It was a sight to behold, but I let the guy know he was doing it all wrong. I’ve watched “They Call Him Bruce” and “The Karate Kid”. Combine that with years of the “Six Million Dollar Man” makes me an absolute expert; someone not to be messed with. He could see the glint in my eye, and removed his helmet. It was Barnaby Joyce! Ben arrives and all becomes somewhat normal again.

Then I’m pulled into a debate about my tyres. The rubber on the rear was at least a couple of microns above the wear indicators, so I felt they were viable, roadworthy tyres, fit to pass muster by the constabulary. But not Ben, Misho, or anyone else on the day. The fact they were blue, unridden since Jindabyne didn’t really bother me. Ben allowed me on the ride and I eagerly nominated myself as rear-rider. I did suggest that we all just go back to my place to get warm and cosy together and watch umpteen hours of superbike qualifying. I was glowing at the possibility.

Alas, Ben was readying himself for the ride. Barnaby Joyce completed his martial arts caper and refitted his number plate to his steed. And we were off. (Barnaby Joyce is Rick Van …Ed.)

It didn’t take me that long to realise my tyres had transformed to a consistency of Bakelite plastic, impregnated with graphite and tungsten carbide. I thought the first, slight front-end slip was just some crud on the road surface, but a number of warnings had me happy to ride my bike at a perfect 90 degree angle to the road, which in itself is an art. Finally, we make it to Warburton for hot coffee and a pleasant chat with the locals.

My bike’s radiator was covered in what looked like cow shit and grass, to the point Misho came over and said, “You’ve had an off! You’ve left the road and stand there concealing the fact!” Being the diplomatic type, bound with an intellect beyond that of normal comprehension, I gave him that special glint in my eye, and he backed off slowly, very slowly, then went and hid behind Pina, whom I already know could kick me so hard in the cods, it makes my eyes water just thinking about it. Misho! Ben, came over, and all becomes normal again.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, we embark up the hill to Mt Donna Buang lookout. The ride for me felt treacherous. I had another front-end slip at slow speed and knew I should be at home cuddled up with a pillow in the foetal position. But I soldiered on. Ben eventually complained, John we’ve been waiting here for at least half an hour. But I just didn’t care! All my powers of Risk Compensation had been focussed and drowned him out. Ben just was using the weather to prepare himself for Tassie, and I was impeding his practice run.

A portion of roadway has been washed away on the Donna Buang road. There was a fog as thick as pea soup in parts, but at least the rain had subsided to a fine drizzle. We all clambered up to the top of the lookout; all puffing and panting momentarily, except for Ben, who stood there with a smug smile on his face, breathing effortlessly, through some other hole no doubt. We gathered for a photo on top of the lookout, smiled with a still hand wave, and then ventured down from the platform and back to the bikes.

Homeward bound we were. Back through Warburton, Yarra Junction, Emerald, Belgrave to Ferntree Gully. We arrived an hour and a half late. No fault of mine… (Lucky Peter Jones wasn’t on the ride; he would have clipped me around the ears, called me a bitch. Barnaby would have karate chopped me fair in the nuts. Now that would have been a distraction.)

High ranking MSR officials were already comfortable, warm and dry, making themselves at home, as only they should. I knew Paul would be there, so all the red wine had been locked in the cellar. And Kate was only allowed to kiss him on the cheek. Ian was in pole position with the Foxtel controls in hand, looking almost regal. I’m sure it’s the way he holds a remote in his hand, refined in an almost elegant fashion.

I stripped off, jumped into some bogan pants and became bitch-like in the kitchen. There was no time to waste. The porterhouse came in a single slab of aged beef and needed to be cut to size. The high ranking officials had already fired up the BBQ and had sausages cooking while waiting for us to arrive. The steak orders were all medium-rare to medium. Flame grilled. We ate everything.

I noticed Pina wasn’t keen on the steak. I hope you found something else to eat, mate, because I was alright, Jack. (I could have sworn she was eating a full size steak with her fingers …Ed.) Next time, I will prepare some vegie burgers for you, based on a pre-discussed recipe.

I had a fridge full of beer. Kate said it would be rude to drink in front of all those riding bikes or driving home, so I kept it to just one, or two.

The races were good. Interesting results. In all, it was a good World Superbike BBQ. Thanks MSR.

John Rousseaux