ONE OF my favourite poker runs was on again. It was scheduled to leave the Oxford Hotel at 1 pm so I arrived early to meet up with the boys and have a drink or two. There was a large crowd around the guys dealing out the first cards and it was good to see a lot of new faces this year and a shit load of top bikes.
At 1.15 pm the helmets and jackets started to go on, the bikes all fired up to a God all mighty roar, and we were off.
The bikes roared down the main street — then to everyone’s amazement, half way down the street, this fuckin’ idiot in a ute thought he would reverse park in the middle of the pack of Harleys as they went past. Not a good idea, dick head — your 10 gallon hat must have been too tight for your 5 gallon head.
We finally got out of town and on the highway, on our way to our first stop, the mighty Copeton Dam.
As we pulled into the parking area, you could smell the BBQ cooking — it was time for lunch. The guys had steak and onion sandwiches cooking and a heap of cold drinks. It was time for everyone to eat, have a drink or two, and deal the next hand of cards.
Soon it was off to our next stop, the Imperial Hotel in Bingara. Now this is a great road for a bike. It winds its way through the hills and then along the river. The pack looked like a giant serpent slithering through the hills — fuck it looked great. We finally made it to the Imperial Hotel after a few encounters with some local brown snakes — I think some of the guys even had their feet on the handlebars.
The main street was overflowing with all the bikes lined up on both sides. It was time for a few refreshments, deal the next hand, and have a quick chat before heading off to our next stop, the Delungra Hotel.
We roared our way out of Bingara, four bikes wide over the bridge, to Delungra where we met up with some of the other guys who were a bit late for the start of the poker run.
Everyone had a few drinks, another hand dealt, a bit of a chat to the late ones before leaving in a deafening roar with all the extra bikes that had joined us, and went like fuck back to the Odin’s Warriors clubhouse in Inverell.
It was good to get back to the clubhouse. There was a heap of food, the bar was in full swing, and the band Fugarwie was setting up.
The hands were sorted and best hand went to Chucks with five aces; the worst hand went to Jackson who wasn’t there to collect his prize.
words & pics by Big Jim