Intl2

VRA (UK)

Northern

Home

News

I have been a member of the Northern VRA for two and a half years and never attended any of your meetings or events, not because I am ant-social but because other mundane things usually take precedence; anyway the VRA is just another bike club right?…Wrong!

From the outset when I met the Northern group at J14 M56 they were all very friendly and talkative which I have normally found to be unusual in a first meeting with other bike clubs. The run down to Wales was itself something very special. The system of second man, staggered formation and keeping a watchful eye over each member of the group was totally new to me, the system works like a veritable charm and progress is undertaken with smooth professionalism and massive road presence, its also bloody good fun! Even when I f****d up a time, ‘T. C.’ graciously declined to give me a bollockin, leaving me to my own devices to sort the problem, cheers T. C.

Stops for fuel and food were more opportunities to get to know my fellow riders. I was very impressed that the group did not set off until every rider was ready, so no-one had to play catch up. On arrival at the site everyone helped each other to get sorted out and pitch their tents on the soggy ground. A good system for collecting your meals with various coloured tickets went well. Then it was beer flowing time for the rest of the night exchanging groats for booze, liked that, who thought that one up? The band Road Hogs were brilliant, loved the lead singer as she strutted her stuff and belted out some mucho good-o tunes. Throughout the evening there was much exchange of friendly talk and booze, all the time the Northern section going out of their way to keep me involved in the proceedings, ‘Budda’ offered out some Black Sambuca, a liquorish aniseed flavoured drink that seduces your taste buds to destruction, gorgeous! Watched the dancing, was impressed with the way the biker chicks moved! Eventually left the party and fell into my sleeping bag about half twelve, pissed as a fart! The ride-outs on both days were brilliant, anytime we passed a garage or pub or anyplace the Vulcan crowd were parked up, a cacophony of horn tooting and frantic arm waving would ensue, kin great! What were the Germans singing as we entered the square at St David’s? What ever it was it sounded bloody brilliant!

Next evenings entertainment superseded the previous evening which I thought might have been impossible. The band ‘Shattered’ were loud and proud blasting out one cracking number after another, all the time with the good company around I kept on thinking I don’t ever want this to end, the bands, the singing, the announcements of new area groups, the dancing, prize giving, the bikes, the beer, the Vodka! A roller coaster of emotional heightened turmoil. I went around photographing everything that moved and in the process meeting riders from other groups, exchanging friendly handshakes, at one stage even managed to get up to strut my stuff and do a bit of boogying, I ended the second night being just as happy and drunk as the first. This was like no other rally I have ever been to, I came to the booze filled opinion that the VRA is not just another bike club, the VRA is far more than that, the VRA is a genuinely remarkable worldwide family.

The organisation that went into producing such a smooth, interesting event was truly astounding, who ever you were, give yourself a round of applause; you deserve it, all those lovely Vulcan’s, the great people, the truly amazing atmosphere of the whole weekend, fantastic…

Unfortunately for every very good side of the vast tapestry of life, there has to be a very bad side…

One thing I have noticed to be absolutely cringingly awful about being a member of the VRA…

That’s the moment all the goodbyes are said, the hugs and handshakes have been completed, you are once again on your own on the long lonely road going home, and you’ve left your new found wonderful VRA family far behind for a spell…Gotcha!

Odd Job.