Skegness
– what’s it all about?
Surprisingly,
the traditional Friday wet start to the bank holiday weekend was denied us as
me, DMs and Jimmy Jazz with his trusty but uncomfortable side-kick Dunney set
out for the eighth wonder of the earth that is Skegness.
The journey was prompted by the usual
series of fag breaks, petrol stops and ‘rests’ for old peeps, but
eventually we reached Grantham where we noticed that DMs had lost his number
plate en route. Next problem, DMs
doesn’t know his reg number, but Dunney, sharp as a tack, got it off the tax
disc, and crayoned the necessary digits onto the place formerly known as the
number plate. Off we set again,
soon to lose DMs, so we turned round and headed back to look for him, wondering
why all the motorists passing us the other way were pissing themselves with
laughter. When we found DMs, all
became clear, he’d started practising for the 2003 scooter grass-tracking
championships on the edge of the A52 – well actually he’d had a rear wheel
blow out and fell off (ed. I came off in
110mph power slide). DM’s
timing couldn’t have been much better as within seconds of inspecting the
scoot (knackered rear panel) and him(some collateral damage), the heavens
opened, leaving us to change his wheel in a monsoon.
Wheel all changed, the next problem was getting the scoot going, and the
sight of DMs trying to kick start it in a puddle had me and JJ chuckling away,
every time the kick start went down it went in the puddle and splashed his
standing leg. As DMs was having no luck, and to prove that there was more
than one idiot on parade, I took over the kick-starting in the puddle game, and
still having no luck JJ did the sensible thing and bump started it!!
After a quick stop up the road to pop some more air into DM’s spare,
and to give time for JJ to utter the immortal words, ‘it comes in threes’ we
set off again, wondering what the glorious third was to be – we soon found out
as DM’s spare went flat, but a quick squirt of tire weld got him running again
and we reached Skegness with no further mishaps.
All
set up, we headed for the Ship and had a pleasant few rounds in the company of
Eric, a delightful old guy who insisted on putting his empty glass on the floor
so the barmaid had to bend down to pick it up, there showing him her more than
ample cleavage…nice technique fella, must try it myself!! Eileen and OAJJ joined us, and at this point things started
to go down hill, and the downward slide continued with the arrival of a
smattering of Alliance girlies – a tribe of amazonianesque woman who it is
rumoured were weaned on vodka!! Peeps
gradually drifted off to the do in the Street, which was good, apart from Eileen
and OAJJ getting a part-cooked jumbo hot dog, it didn’t look too appetising to
start with, but the sight of bright pink meat in the middle proved an excellent
appetite suppressant. Once peeps
had had enough of the do, they strolled back to the site to crash out, and
contemplate the heady rush that was to be Saturday.
The morning was warm and sunny, so we dried out anything that was still wet, had
tea and bacon rolls al fresco (no, not in an 80s expansion pipe – tut!), and
showered in the Belsen like facilities. The
ii crew wandered down to the parts fair and custom show.
There weren’t many scoots on display, but the ones there were a
testament to some fantastic engineering skills and invention, and some superb
airbrush work.
We wandered into town through a couple of showers to get the traditional seaside
fare of chips and curry sauce, and to have a cappuccino in the Northern Soul café
bar. Some more shopping in the tat
arcades seeking the tackiest ornament, comfortably won by the turtle lamp, and
back to meet the rest of the ii peeps in the Sun Castle.
A latter day Reg Dixon entertained us with his organ (!), whilst an old
biddy provided an enlightening floor show, with some impromptu break-dancing….Clive’s
mum turned up, and had a beer with us which was good, well once we’d worked
out who Clive was anyway!
Back to the site for a power nap, where we met up with the Cads who’d been
shopping in Ingoldmells, where they’d witnessed some very heavy showers.
By now, Dean had become a qualified weather forecaster, so when we saw
huge black clouds heading our way, we were reassured by him saying that they’d
miss us…..anyway, once the rain had stopped and we’d dried out, we carried
on milling around, playing footie against the shoe people’s kids, and
generally doing nothing but having fun. AVT
and Dawn arrived on scoots, and so as not to be outdone by DMs, AVT threw his
scoot on the floor on arrival, although luckily he didn’t do any damage.
Next back was Loggie who regaled us as only a very drunken man can,
before collapsing into his tent, and ruining the precision erection he’d
created the day before.
The evening was similar to the previous night, starting in the Ship and then
moving to the Street. The do
wasn’t the best too crowded, too hot, distorted sound, and too few serving at
the bar, was a recipe for turning a potentially brilliant night into an ok night
at best. We left early, along with
a few of the ii peeps.
Another
excellent weekend, some good fun, and some excellent laughs.
On
a more sombre note, news circulated that one scooterist had been killed in an
accident on the way home, with his mate seriously injured.
The debate about people going in cars to rallies has been raging for some
time, but when you hear news like this, and consider how lucky DMs was in
surviving two blow outs on the way, you need to put it all into perspective.
I prefer riding to rallies as to me it’s all part of the weekend, but
if others want to go by car, it is their prerogative and we should respect their
choice. Sometimes you really do have to ask ‘what’s it all
about?’