AS IS OFTEN the case in Queensland, it’s beautiful one day and perfect the next—well on Thursday and Friday, it was pissing down and the members were wondering if the weather would break and it anyone would actually turn up. True to form, the clouds blew away and indeed it was a perfect, 27 degrees, day.
Registration opened at 9.30 am and it started slowly; the President and organisers were starting to get worried. This year there were more prizes, more vendors, more raffle donations, and of course, the club’s expectation to better the donation to Breakaway (the charity that the club sponsors) from the previous year.
At about 10.30 am, the club rooms were encompassed by more than 160 motorcycles and the atmosphere was great. Scattered amongst the traditional black and leather was the stark white uniforms of the Navy Cadets from TS Moreton who would be involved in the Remembrance Ceremony.
The day, of course, ran with military precision. Well almost—some rider took his eye off the traffic in front. Harley verse Commodore rear-end is no even match, luckily at fairly low speed, so a smashed up front-end and a broken ankle and bent ego were the only damage done.
Not to mention the Ride Captain and Secretary overtaking the ‘split pack’ to catch up with the main body and assist with direction, only realising when they arrived at the first stop that no-one was there because they had passed the President and the main pack!
Chucky brought a friend from work, and it was explained to her that the tradition was that you rode home from the last stop topless. Chucky and I had her to the point of acceptance with the uncertain approval of her husband, but then Joe, Chucky’s wife, let her off the hook! (Chucky, you need to have words with that woman).
Part of this run is the Remembrance Service. This year the speeches were done from the back of a ute which was flanked by the Naval Cadets (and we thank them for their participation).
The Moreton Bay Chapter would like to thank all those who attended, who donated prizes or their valuable time to make this another great event. The biggest winners were Breakaway Inc. With contributions from the day, we were able to donate in excess of $2000 to the charity.
Remembrance Poem conducted by Wombat
AT THE going down of the sun,
I crouched in a shallow trench on that hell of exposed beaches.
Steeply rising foothills bare of cover,
A landscape pockmarked with wars inevitable litter.
Piles of stores, equipment, ammunition;
The weird contortions of death sculptured in Australian flesh.
I saw the going down of the sun on that first ANZAC Day.
The chaotic maelstrom of Australia’s blooding.
I fought in the frozen mud of the Somme.
In a blazing destroyer exploding on the North Sea.
I fought on the perimeter at Tobruk.
Crashed in the flaming wreckage of a fighter in New Guinea.
Lived with the dammed in the place cursed with the name Changi.
I was your mate, the kid across the street, the med student at graduation,
The mechanic in the corner garage, the baker who brought your bread,
The gardener who cut your lawn, the clerk who sent your phone bill.
I was an Army private. A naval commander. An Air Force bombardier.
No man knows me.
No name marks my tomb, for I am every Australian serviceman.
I am the Unknown Soldier.
I died for a cause I held just in the service of my land,
That you and yours may stay in freedom.
I am proud to be Australian.
Pics by Jo; words By Roo & Womat