River Bash Catchup

This party was going to be a cracker!

“WE’LL HAVE to catch up soon.” How many times have you heard that? So the bride and I decided it would be easier to invite all our friends to our place rather than going to visit them one at a time. 

Originally, we organised this get-together to coincide with our 10th anniversary, and we had a hoot, all 80 odd of us, most of whom are riders.

Between us there are 14 birthdays in 10 days around the middle of November—so why not get our friends and family together and do it all again this year?

With time up our sleeves we set about improving on our previous get-together. The herd all pitched in and we built ourselves a new race strip for the old novelty races and inevitable grass drags, and we constructed ourselves an elevated jump into the river, complete with an assortment of pushbikes that we managed to make float. This party was going to be a cracker!

Come the Thursday before the party, it pissed down—and here was us boys sinking posts and putting up a huge tarp off the shed—a Dingo, chainsaw, miles of rope, five blokes, flogging rain and howling wind—yep, we had a ball. 

That afternoon our first guests arrived and they kept rolling in on Saturday. Caravans, camper trailers, buses, utes, tents and swags, they were all here and there and some over there. 

By Saturday mid-morning we had about 70 or so here, the sun was out, there was mention of a counter lunch, so we all headed off to the Fredo Hotel. Thirty bikes and a dozen cars is a lot of mouths to feed—and they didn’t let us down—the feed and service was awesome.

Getting home about 2 pm, it was time to give out some trophies and have a few laughs. We had slow races, keg races, blow and swallow races, grass drags, and the cheering crowd loved it as much as the competitors, most of whom were on Harleys or Triumphs (although there was a Postie and a chook chaser that snuck in for an appearance). Our youngest competitor was only six-years-old, well done young Nate, and our oldest of 62, good on ya Vern.

With the onset of the evening we finished with the race strip and headed over to the river jump for the young-at-heart to play and the spectators to roar with laughter. The crowd all gathered around the jump, heavy with the smell of the nearby spit as dinner cooked.

The run up was cleared and from behind the crowd, pedalling like a bast@#d, was our own Captain Risky complete with white overalls and Viking helmet—he left the ramp and plummeted into the drink to a standing ovation. Sam landed a perfect backflip, Big Red did himself a misery and Vern stepped up again (legend).

Enough time for a burnout comp and dinner would be ready.

Ben had already cleaned up on trophies but decided he could maybe have one more, letting loose with an absolute rip-snorter, he bagged the burnout too; but recognition must also go to Slim for his crack at it.

About 110 of us sat down to a great spit roast dinner—top job ladies for all your efforts to feed us all, and to the boys carving the meat.

Well fed, we sat back and relaxed with a few coldies and did the catching up we’d all talked about. Rhys kept the music playing and everyone just let their hair down and enjoyed themselves.

Jess and Nicky brought out two huge birthday cakes for our combined birthdays and we partied on.

River Bash Catchup Ozbike 2
River Bash Catchup Ozbike 3

Mother Nature gave us a two-day window for the River Bash, but she revoked it about 4.30 am Sunday. A few of the revellers bolted to the safety of the shed, clad in soaked sleeping bags; and as the puddles grew around us, Mother Nature laughed; and we laughed straight back at her for the weekend we’d had couldn’t be dampened by Her feeble attempt to bring us down.

Jess and I want to thank all the River Bash revellers. You’re a motley crew, but you’re our family and friends and you’re always welcome.

See you next year—Waz.

River Bash Catchup Ozbike 4

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