Following a bizarre nuclear knitting accident, Bob grew a spare arm in the middle of his back that he immediately put to good use.

As part of this year’s program of going to rallies that I can’t pronounce, I set off on Friday for the Stir Sun, Son, Shor .. Aberdeen MAG rally.
One hundred and forty miles of quality dual carriageway ‘dial in and go’ later and I arrived at Inverurie. The rally site is at the Thainstone centre, famous for the selling of coos and other walking varieties of dinner. I had heard that the hall in which the rally was held was, not to put to fine a point on it, “Reekin’ o’ pish”.
2004 wasn’t noted as a good year for the further development of bovine toilet habits so I assumed that the fragrance of ‘Ewe De Toilete’ would be present.
But No!, much to my surprise, we were goint to party in a shopping mall, quick , pretend yer in a Avril Lavigne video, er perhaps not.

Grampian police turned up to show off their new toy, a Duke 999, wonder if it ever catches anyone before it breaks down?

Gordy, typically, showing of his tankard and demonstrating the correct use of the thumb in certain parts of the naked lady handle Of course that did mean I’d have to rethink my excuses for the over indulgence of achohol since the “Drink more, won’t smell the shite” excuse was redundant. Having danced a wild fandango with my new tent, (instructions helpfully provided in Swahili)

I wandered off to see who was about the field. Being a bit damp, the field that is, not me (yet), quite a few folk decided that discretion was the better part of valour and parked outside on the hardstanding, rather than
brave the muddy hill into the field. Seth and Chris were doing a good job of keeping the cars out of the field which helped the situation, since booting a mondeo in first gear on wet grass just makes it a b*stard for us on the bikes.

The Friday night band was ‘Easily Led’ bashing out the usual covers and filling the dance floor. The usual imbibement of certain alchoholic fluids ensued, and the usual chaos ensued upon the dance floor and on Bob’s beard, nice mix of purple and pink Bob.
Typically, by midnight Jack and his Black Irish friend were taking their toll when Watty turned up and finished me off. A confident stride (my arse, ye know that way when the foot yer putting out in front becomes indecisive about exactly where it wants to put itself on the road) to the marquee on the site for a coffee to try and rescue the situation but, alas, all was lost when I promptly assummed one of the many “Rally ‘ad Enough” positions against a convenient pole.

Alchohol, Camera, Action !

Much to my surprise, on Saturday morning I woke up in my tent, bonus !
As the bikes arrived for the demo run I sought any tasty rides to shoot.

John’s very lovely Harley (right) , which I witnessed be driven properly, er, well he passed me at some lick and I was doing, er, em seventy officer.

I had to find Rab’s Fatarse Max, just to sate my well know fetish for large rear ends covered in rubber. It certainly didn’t dissappoint, as well as a fatarse, it was sporting a tasty Egyptian themed Bob Falconer paint job.

Hopefully I can get my act together to do a full feature on it. By midday the car park was filling nicely as the marshalls grouped to prepare for the demo run.



The demo run left for Aberdeen with somewhere around 3-400 bikes. It even managed not to rain, until it hit Union Street, Duh

The Marshall, Sheriff and the Hangman’s Daughter, make up yer own mind.

Right, circle the wagons, block all the roads, and Nige/Seth , don’t break Mark’s & Spencers Windows wi yer exhaust.


Best not to ask

I spent some time wandering around the stone circles of which there are loads of in the area, wasn’t until I got home that Annie (the all wise one ’bout things stoney) told me that this area is called ‘the Glastonbury
of the north’, wee bit of trivia there for the next pub quiz, and helps fill the copy when ye’ve got so many blank moments 😉

Saturday night started off with ‘Ignition’ who describe themselves as a party band. Did a bloody good job as well, they had the dance floor heavin’.

Trophy time, the farthest travelled male was Pete from Spain who had travelled 2020 miles, he’s been to all twelve rallies, well he used to live in the area.

‘Mind Gone Blind’ took over the musical duties by which time the drink had really set in and everyone was in mach 10 party mode.

I’ll get the hang of this new flash yet.

One o’ Leather’s lassies put’s on a brave face whilst the other get’s a Tattoo, ever held someone’s hand when their gettin’ a Tat?

A retiral present, most fitting.


Trophy Winners

Tale Of Woe/Long Distance On Smallest Bike Rob Nicholson Kwak KR1

Farthest Travelled Female Anne Marie Williamson 270 miles

Furthest Travelled Male Pete Rately from Spain 2020 miles

Youngest Rally-Goer Joe

Best Club Turnout Saints & Sinners (Again 😉


Best Bike Rab’s Fatarsed V-Max


Worst Bike Mike Simpson

Oldest Bike Neil’s Maicoletta

Best Engineering Trike (oops missed yer name)

Er, Em, Seth, Ye didn’t write this ‘un down.

Usual E&OE, If I’ve got the wrong faces let me know 😉


Somewhat hindered by Mr Jack, some idiot (er Me) tries to work out how the hell this new fangled flash gun worksThanks to Colin Gow From Aberdeen for the photo

Blinder of a rally, judging by the hangover
at least. There’s not enough weekends in a year, that’s another
one fixed in the diary, thanks to Seth, Goonz, Marion, Nige, Dom,
Chris and all who pitched in to make it a great rally. And it even
smelled quite nice too.
Pity it hosed down with rain on Sunday but,
the rain and the wind at least masked the horrible noise that the
tight spot in my chain was making.
Words (and blank moments)
& Pics By Al