Unlike the Isle Of Wight rally which people tend to put in their diaries the moment the date is confirmed, the decision for many to attend the Thunderbird this year was a rather last minute one. I think I was the only one to send off for a ticket in advance (a whole two weeks), but this did confer on me the benefit of receiving directions to the site and a photocopied map, although I've probably got the map from last year somewhere, 'cos I tend to keep stuff like that!
So, asking around on the previous Tuesday night, I established that Phil, Tony and myself were "definites" and Dave, Peter and Gary were "probables", with Ian and Julie "maybes" for the Saturday. In the event Peter didn't make it and various people had work or other commitments governing what time they could hit the road, so it transpired that Tony and I were setting off at about the same time, but from different places. We agreed on taking the straightest route up the motorway and arranged to meet up at the Toddington services at 5 p.m.
I had to get from Docklands to the M1 via the A12, M11 and M25 but I was surprised to find myself catching Tony up a few junctions before the services, thinking that I would be getting there first. Still we parked up at the services almost bang on 5 p.m., grabbed a coffee and I sought out a cashpoint which entailed taking the footbridge over to the other side of the motorway.
We set off again at about 5:50 p.m. and were doing well despite some light rain. Then we started getting near the notorious stretch of the M6 near Birmingham where it is joined by the M5. And of course it was effectively rush hour. And there were roadworks just before that with narrower lanes than usual. This left us unable to filter through the traffic until we cleared the roadworks, and then we still had a couple of miles or more of dodging through the gaps between lanes until we passed the end of the M5 and the congestion miraculously melted away. At least by that time the rain had stopped. What with the delays it seemed so long before we saw signs for the M54 that I was starting to wonder whether I had gone wrong somewhere, but fortunately we were on the right track and the skies were clearing and we finally got to the rugby club at about 9 p.m.
Phil and Dave had got there earlier so we wasted no time in getting the tents up and repairing to the clubhouse for something to eat and drink. While we were relaxing by the bar and observing that the DJ had taken the hint from last year and acquired some better CDs, a few more Bexley people turned up, in the shape of Gary and son Matthew, plus Janet - but not Kevin. His Kawasaki had suffered a broken clutch cable on the way up, leaving him waiting for a relay truck to get him to the rally. His wasn't the only tale of woe alas, because no sooner had Gary loaded his new Tiger up earlier in the day than his neighbour reversed into it, knocking it right over! We inspected the damage in the cold light of day and it was not a pretty sight, with a bent sidestand (requiring a brick under it to compensate), scuffed tank, pannier, front mudguard, cracked indicator and even a red mark on the front wheel rim. The general consensus was that Gary should accept nothing less than replacement of all damaged parts as the bike is only a few weeks old. Makes you wonder whether the guy would have seen the bike had Gary actually been sitting on it!
Kevin's progress in the relay truck was painfully slow due to congestion and the poor bloke didn't get there until after midnight when the bar had shut and everyone was heading for their tents. Fortunately Janet saved him a couple of beers.
Next morning was fine and bright and the first order of the day was breakfast. The catering at the Thunderbird is tackled by a crack team from the Birmingham and Wolves TOMCC and a damn good job they do too. I tucked into a full English breakfast to keep me going, each component of which had been cooked by a dedicated volunteer - they had a bacon man, a bean man, a sausage man and of course an egg man. Whether they also had a walrus I couldn't be sure but I kept my curiosity in check on that score.
There were two obvious alternatives as to how we could spend the day, namely the organised run which was leaving at noon for a casual jaunt of some 100 miles, or there was a RAT summer event on at Ironbridge, a picturesque place near Telford. The steam fair that was once again taking place on our doorstep did not hold much allure for us this year I'm afraid. While we mulled over the options, Kevin and Phil tackled the pressing issue of the broken clutch cable. Phil's stock of spares did not quite fit unfortunately, which wasn't entirely surprising as they were for a T150 Trident. Plan B required finding someone with some workshop facilities to solder the old cable together, so we reluctantly left them to pursue that mission while Tony, Gary, Matt, Dave and I headed off.
We scooted along the A5 past Shrewsbury, keeping an eye out for signs to Ironbridge. The B-roads that took us there were pleasantly windy and before long we were pottering through the town looking for signs of a RAT event. Knowing that it was next to a museum I pulled into the first museum site we encountered but the combination of the fact that there are at least three museums with similar sounding names in Ironbridge, plus the apparent reluctance of the RAT organisers to post any direction signs to where we needed to go meant that we had to ask around. Even when we rode up the hill and saw what we were looking for, the signs to the car park took you all around the back and through a railway arch which caused some confusion as it looked like there should have been a much more direct angle of approach. I followed the signs faithfully however and was rewarded with the sight of a large car park in front of me with more Hinckleys in it than you will have seen together in one place before.
We parked up and started scoping out the attractions. The Valmoto racing team were there with their Daytona 600 bikes, there was a display in an annex to the museum of the history of the Hinckley era, there were some racks of Triumph and RAT clothing, and that was about it. Oh and there was a trad jazz band who had fortunately taken a break for the time we were in the immediate vicinity. You could say we were somewhat underwhelmed, but we had a good look round and Gary had a chat with one the Triumph company guys, mentioning casually how his new Tiger had been found to be a dipstick o-ring short on its first run out, and had parted company with the ignition assembly not long afterwards. What with that and the impact damage from being backed into, it has had a trouble-prone infancy so far.
Of most interest really was the variety and enhancements evident in the car park full of Hinckleys, with some nice paint jobs, some snazzy aftermarket bits and some immaculate older bikes. I spotted a P-reg Speed Triple (old style) that looked like it had just left the factory and made mine and Dutchy's look well-worn (sorry, mate!) Mind you it only had 3,000 miles on the clock and I bet they were all on sunny days.
After a while Gary announced that he and Matt were going to move on to phase two of their planned day, which consisted of a ride back to Shrewsbury to catch a film and have some nosh. They headed off and Tony, Dave and I considered the pressing issue of lunch. Catering at the RAT event seemed to be almost non-existent but I spotted a sign to a pub up the hill so we investigated.
The sign outside promised food and seven different real ales, so in we went. As we started scrutinising the food board we were told that they stopped serving meals at 2 p.m. However as it was about 2:05 and we were considering nothing more elaborate than a baguette each, they relented and took our order. We then repaired to the tiny patio outside with a glass of "Old Dog" bitter each and waited for the food to appear. By this time the skies had cleared further and it was warming up. Also warming up was the jazz band down below in the museum courtyard. Now I'm no expert but I have sat through a fair amount of trad jazz over the years (long story) and I could distinctly hear some bum notes wafting up on the breeze from time to time. However I guess that theirs was a thankless task, playing in the hot sun to a dwindling crowd of people, many having gone off on some sort of organised run a bit earlier.
Our baguettes duly appeared and we tucked in appreciatively. Once done, we had another swift half before returning whence we had come and retrieving our bikes. Figuring that we really ought to see the iron bridge that gives the place its name, we guessed that it must be further along in the direction we had originally approached from. We rode back down the hill and turned towards the main part of town which runs along the gorge, and there up ahead was a rather modest bridge spanning a slow-moving river. We found somewhere to park the bikes and walked onto the bridge to make the most of the view, although in truth I was a bit disappointed that it wasn't bigger and the gorge deeper. Still I'm sure it was the wonder of the age in 1779 when it was constructed.
The beating sun made it uncomfortable to stand around for too long in full leathers so Tony took a few photos and we returned to the bikes for an uneventful ride back to Oswestry. There we bumped into some of the others and were told that Ian and Julie had arrived. Making an educated guess I repaired to the bar to find them with Kevin and Janet and that became the centre of operations pretty much for the rest of the day, the others gradually joining us.
Later on in the evening we were glad to see the same band from last year ("Disturbing The Peace") setting up their gear, so we knew we were in for some good entertainment. We splashed out on some raffle tickets, I had one of the last few portions of chilli left and very nice it was too. The band came on and played some great cover tunes, then there was a pause for the prize-giving (which left us empty-handed) and the raffle. To my considerable surprise my lavish investment of £4 yielded not one but two prizes, in the shape of a bottle of best Spar brandy (true quality yet to be established) and a mini cricket set. Of course with some of us having consumed a fair few beers, we had to open the cricket set and attempt to assemble the stumps on the table by putting the ends in empty Newcastle Brown bottles, but there were stability problems and too many people around to attempt a quick innings.
Anyway, the band was coming on for a second set so it was just about time to dispatch the Bexley dance team onto the dance floor. A solid performance was delivered by all concerned, and all too soon it was last orders at the bar and the final encore from the band.
Sunday morning was a replay of 24 hours previous, with more full English and tea. Gary had decided to take in the celebrated Royston café on the way home for a late lunch, and the rest of us looked to the quick route home, which in the case of Tony and myself was the exact same way we had come. In fact Gary and I ended up leaving a bit before the others but when I stopped for coffee and petrol he pressed on. When I went back to my bike after consuming my coffee, there were Ian and Julie who had pulled in for a short cigarette break while the rest had carried on. I left them to it, confident that they would catch me up before long. This they duly did and with a wave and smile they were off into the distance.
Even though my pace was somewhat slower, I was home by about 3:15 p.m. which, having set off at about 11:30 a.m., added up to more like the kind of journey time I was hoping for on the way up. Anyhow, this left plenty of time to unpack the bike, air the tent out and face up to the prospect of Monday morning back at work. Thanks are due to the hard working volunteers from the Birmingham and Wolves TOMCC for another great rally, plus the Bexley members for being such good company over the weekend.