The first Wednesday night ‘away’ fixture of the year, and what a fixture it turned out to be!
Fourteen Moos and nearly as many ‘ParaGoons’ took to the Cwmcarn and Abercarn trails in glorious sunshine. Gordon Scripps had to be ‘held back’ on the first fire road ascent, but once on top he ‘let rip’ on the rutted track across the common. This tricky but fast rolling section, which produced gleaming faces, did take a few riders unaware, and indeed some flew over-the-bars in comical style. But this was just a taster of the downhill merriment to come.
The Goons did pre-warn the Moos riders before the first of a few wooded downhill sections about various jumps and drop-offs, but the forever gung-ho Option, obviously feeling the effects of not riding since the Clic24 hr, took no heed to the advice whatsoever in his ‘what do they know about downhilling, anyway!’ attitude. The curse of the Marin inevitably struck again, as the Umpa Lumpa legged Bard was riding just too close to Tom, who was himself throwing caution to the wind, on the last and most severe jump. Like Roy Rogers trying to rear up his steed on encountering a rattlesnake (where the hell did that come from!), Option attempted to slam-on-the-brakes in a last minute attempt to pull-out of the jump. But his efforts were to no avail, and probably caused greater harm, as Willy Wonka’s toy-boy was flung clear of his charge like a rag doll, somersaulting and landing in a thudding heap!
At the bottom of the descent the mystery of Option’s mishap continued until The Gollum featured Crock sparked-up ‘Oh yeh, I saw him take a massive fall over the bars, he’ll be ok though, he always is!’ Asked why he didn’t stop and offer his fellow Moo help in his moment of need Crock answered ‘Well he never bloody stops for me! Anyway I was laughing too much!’
Eventually confirmation of Options mishap came in the shape of one of the ‘Goons,’ Ron, who established that a Moo had indeed taken a bad fall. The laughter carried on when Big Ron was asked what the injured Moo looked liked. ‘That bloke with the moustache looks like a Swedish porn star!’
Since his accident Option, who suffered a broken arm, has become an authority on lawn tennis, production at Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory has decreased by 60%, but on the good side Braddicks have sold yet another rear mech hanger!
The Goons chose the Philanthropic Inn, Cwmcarn, as our post-ride watering hole. A philanthropist by definition is ‘someone who devotes her or his time, money, or effort towards helping others.’ The Moos, and most of the Goons, were definitely philanthropic in their actions, not by helping the one-armed bandit Option, but by devoting their time, money and effort towards helping other members to become inebriated!
Not that it took too much persuasion for the Umpa Lumpa legged Option to raise that first pint! It was mentioned that perhaps he should visit casualty, but he pointed out just before the nectar touched his lips ‘I’ll have one or two drinks and I’ll see how (his broken arm!) it is!’
Following his under par (by his own admission) racing performance the previous Sunday, Scrippsy redeemed himself as the evening’s entertainment roared on. Scrippsy belted out that West Ham classic ‘Oim foir effer blowin bubbles’ as his testes reminded us of another classic tune by Bob Dylan ‘Blowin’ in the wind!’ Will Scrippsy’s penchant for nudity ever cease?!
The evening came to an end when Harty had an unfamiliar attack of conscience when asked to perform, stating that it wasn’t fair that Marty had to wait for the drunken ensemble! He must have run out of money!
Thanks to Dai Shop (Evening all!) and Marty who had the unenviable job of driving the Moos to and from Cwmcarn. Well done lads you can drive us in future, any time!
Also, a special thanks to the Goons contingent, for a good ride and great night. Hopefully the Moos can reciprocate their excellent ride and hospitality on July 6th, that is if Johnny Morgan’s missus will allow him out after nearly falling in the canal on the way home, if Curly can win some more races so that he can spend his winnings on beer, if Ron can recover from his hangover and if Anthony’s girlfriend will let him ride with that tenacious gnarl-shredding beast, Crock!
A special thanks also to Martyn Ashfield, who I am told on good authority thoroughly enjoyed the evening, for supplying sausage and chips (just wish his poem was as good!).
Roll on the return leg!