Captain Cook Rally

Right, how to start this one ladies and gentlemen.

Third year on the run and it went bad from worse the moment we left. I distinctly remember someone asking "Have you put the sleeping bags in bin bags to keep 'em dry?"

"Yer, yer." that's what I said.

- Jed

It was the Friday before the bank holiday Monday and we where all set and ready to be on the road for 5.30pm waiting for my brother Ste and my dad Knocker to stop pissing about with bungee cords. Eventually it was about 5.45 or so and we where ready to get the feck outta dodge (Liverpool).

So we all saddled up and pulled off looking at the dark clouds that looked extremely promising to piss all over us. After some swift navigating we made it onto the M62 and started our 170 mile hike to Whitby.

About 30mins or so into our journey Ste's Yamaha TR1 chop started to get in a mood and decided to throw a tantrum, luckily just outside the services (Birchwood or something I think) After we limped it into the car park to further examine the troublesome TR1 it became clear we weren't going to make it to the rally by 11pm. After 2 hours of ball scratching, head scratching and soggy fag ends I looked around the left hand side of the bike and happened to notice that the rear carb on the rear cylinder had decided to pop out (bollocks) So I shook my head, looked at the other two and used the jimmy bar to persuade the funkers back into place whilst my dad was speaking to some very helpful travellers who where also bikers.

Some moments later, after getting the TR1 running, it was a toss up between going home and trying again in the morning and as pissed off as I was I stood the ground and said "We're going tonight by bike or by trailer. It's the one place we go of a year and absolutely love it so let's go!" (felt a bit like Captain Pugwash)

After persuading the other two with Costa coffee (£13 for three, thieving beggars) and having a piss break it was time to hit the water-logged motorways.

Come to think of it the TR1 had never ran so good. About 60 or so miles the TR1 started to bog down and the bloody thing was shooting flames 3ft and the lights where going out. Ste tried to push on but it was getting beyond a joke. After finding a nice secluded motorway bridge we pulled in underneath it to get out of the rain and find the bloody problem. To our joy it had only chopped the main battery wire. Couple of jokes later and some enthusiasm and presto it runs after all. We loved it really so we pressed on with no problems all the way to Lymm services where I decided to lose the gearshift; whilst looking down it was dangling off the ripped threads of my pants (thank funk for that) After gaffer taping and tightening the gearshift on we pressed onto the A1 I think. Eventually it became apparent that I was a tit and forgot to fill up at Lymm services. I don't know whether little Kawasaki 500s are powered by magic but the petrol was low. I was about 19 mile from Whitby, looking for a petrol station which, to our amazement, was in the middle of nowhere just as we pulled in the engine, stopped and I had to get my fat ass off and push the bike to the pump. My dad and brother were more than happy to laugh at me and after they had filled up it was the home stretch after coming over the hills and far away we pulled onto the campsite and checked the time. It was 4.53am so we had definitely lost track of time.

So me and me dad casually rode across the field to set up camp, wondering where our Ste and the TR1 had gone. He had just got to the gate and the throttle cable had snapped. Luckily he still had his enthusiasm and met us.

Sorry, by the way, to all who we woke up. Straight pipes aren't quiet. We know this.

After setting tents up all we wanted was sleep and as I came back from the bog my dad said "You're dead!" In the midst of rushing before we set off I had forgot to pack the sleeping bags in bin bags to keep 'em dry and to this day I have not been able to live it down.

At the end of the day it was like a weird top gear challenge, but we had made it to the rally and that's what meant the most surely. We have all heard the expression "It's not the destination, it's the journey". This meant a lot to us scouse lads and the rally was just as good as last years.

Good laugh with everyone and superb time. Nice one.

Hope to see you all next year without any problems it. Until then, ride safe.

From the scouse lads...

Jed (typist) Kawasaki ER500
Knocker (dad) Kawasaki Z900 Hardtail
Ste (brother) Yamaha TR1 Hardtail 'The Reaper'

- Jed Fielding