THE RUN was scheduled to depart at 11.30 am which suited me just fine, and I made it to the clubhouse well before then. The usual hellos and a few heart-starters were the order of the day, and before we knew it, it was time to roll.
The first stop was the Commercial Hotel at the sleepy little township of Boonah; lunch was available at either the pub or the take-away shop across the road. The entire population of Boonah seemed to be on hand as the pub’s parking lot and the main street quickly filled with bikes and rumbling engines.
After an hour or so and we were on the road again for the next leg to the Peak Crossing Hotel. Another card, more beers, a few running repairs on a couple of older bikes, and back on the road for the last pub stop.
The Royal Mail Hotel was well aware of our arrival and had done a great job of watering the thirsty pack of riders. Road tales were exchanged and the mood was starting to wind up a bit in anticipation of the after-run party at the OWMC clubhouse.
The short ride back down the motorway was a free-for-all and every man for him/herself. I fucken love it!
At the clubhouse the drinks were on in earnest and a free BBQ was thrown on for those who weren’t on a strict liquid diet. The last hands were dealt, and as the hands were being tallied, the sun went down and the party started to rev up.
The winners were announced and, lo and behold, my ever-suffering missus got best hand and the $500 cash. Yee-fucken-haa, time to party! The band (can’t recall the name, hic…) fired up and got the place rockin’, and there were old biker flicks on the big screen as well to keep the revelers entertained.
As the crowd thinned out, the real party animals stayed on to enjoy the OWMC’s hospitality. As expected, it just ain’t good enough to putt on down the road as you leave these type of events, and one young fella lit up the back tyre on a Fat Boy in spectacular fashion. This resulted in a fishtail burnout that lasted almost the entire length of the street. It turned out it was his dad’s bike, and mum and dad stood on, proudly watching as Jnr shredded off a few thousand km’s worth of usable tread. The crowd loved it and the party continued.
Thanks to the Odin’s Warriors and to all those in attendance for another ball-tearer poker run.
words by Chuck; pics by Jo