Fools Rally

1980

They called it the Fools Rally — and by the end of the meeting,
they all earned the name.

A rally whose very first edition, if I’m not mistaken, dates back to 1978, organized by a club called Cotswold & Dales.

According to the badges in my collection, it appears that this gathering was held at least seven times, from 1978 to 1983. However, it’s quite possible that it continued for a few more years after that.

As we seek to include this rally among the long and distinguished list of gatherings featured on this site, let us turn to the 1980 edition — the third in the series.

Held from 28 to 30 March 1980, the meeting took place in Dymock, near Ross-on-Wye — a quiet village hidden within Gloucestershire’s Forest of Dean, close to the Herefordshire border.

Aerial views of Dymock and its surroundings

Rooted in a timeless countryside tradition, Dymock is celebrated for its richly flavoured Stinking Bishop cheese and for the cultivation of the rare and characterful Dymock Red cider apples.

Stinking Bishop: It promises the olfactory experience of a gym locker, but rewards the brave with a taste so heavenly, you'll be secretly sniffing your fingers for days.

Tony Noble, from Manchester 17 MCC, took part

A rallyist named Tony Noble, a member of the Manchester 17 MCC — a long-established club founded in 1935 — took part in this rally on Friday, before continuing his journey on Saturday to attend the third edition of the Ox Rally.

Quite by chance I stumbled upon the account he wrote upon his return from the 1980 Fools Rally in one of his club's newsletters.

I sincerely hope he won't mind me sharing it in turn, for a good cause, with the rally and motorcycle touring enthusiasts who are readers of LPMCC.net.

Now, let Tony Noble take the stage:

Friday afternoon saw several of the club finishing work early so we could get down to the rally as soon as possible. Ken Turner (who never works — well, not much anyway), my wife Susan Noble, and I travelled down together.

Mike Edmunds and Ian McKenzie blasted down later on the CBX, and as always, Paul Rushton wanted to be first there, so he took the afternoon off work and went down early.

The weather had been quite wet the week before, so we were expecting a soggy site — and we weren’t disappointed. On arriving, we rode the bikes onto the field and quickly realised our mistake: it was literally a bog, at least six inches deep.

I wasn’t able to find any photos from the 1980 rally to illustrate this report. Instead, there are four snapshots from the following year, 1981. The traces of mud on the faces show that the rain had struck just as relentlessly in Dymock for two years running.

Paul was already there with only about two dozen other people, so there was no shortage of camping space. It’s surprising how quickly you can pitch a tent when it looks like rain — and at that moment, it definitely did.

We took shelter in the large, muddy beer tent — although they only had cans, which had to be opened with a screwdriver! The rain was really lashing down by now when a dripping-wet Pete Lawton unexpectedly turned up, followed by an equally soaked Mike and Ian. They were laughing at the idiots who’d taken their bikes onto the field… not realising ours were parked right next to our tents.

Mud wins. Dignity loses. Laughter prevails.

When the rain eased off, we took a walk to the local pub and had a few (too many) jars to make the evening worthwhile. The rally was definitely spoiled by the rain, the total lack of drainage on the field, and the rather chaotic organisation in the “beer tent.”

I think the name of the rally was fitting — we must all have been fools — but as the saying goes, “A good time was had by all.”

Pour, pose, repeat.

The next morning, we aimed to leave by 11:30 a.m. The first problem was actually getting the bikes off the field. This turned into a six-man job (eight for Paul’s bike), almost carrying them rather than pushing.

We were right on time, 11:30 a.m., ready to go — unusual for us — or were we? I (Tony) couldn’t find my keys. To cut a long story short, after completely unpacking both bike and tent, I discovered they’d slipped through a hole in my pocket, down the lining of my trousers, and into my boots!

Fringes flying, good friends laughing, fun thriving — the night in full swing.

As I said, it’s unusual for us to get away on time — it was now 12:30 p.m. Eventually, with the sun shining at last, we got off and made our way to the Ox Rally.

Tony Noble

Many thanks to Tony Noble for sharing his tale, a reminder that rain, mud, and a bit of chaos are all part of the rallying charm — and that it’s the laughter, the shared adventures, and the stories we tell afterward that truly stick, long after the bikes have finally made it off the field.

- Jean-Francois Helias