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BIG Run 2006 - British Italian German

"Bull & Bush starters left just after nine after a quick briefing by Pete Combat, headed to Round Corner and stopped at a cafe called Pirate Pete's for refreshments then off through Kenthurst to Cattai then Wisemans and Spencer stopping at Peats Ridge for a 10 litre top up of the roadster tank ( lucky we didn't push it any further else we might have petered out) then off down the old road to Brooklyn. Great day out ........" Baz

"A crisp winter's day greeted eastern New South Wales on this particular morn, a Sunday to be precise. The ride to Edgy maccas took little under no time at all, to reveal 0 motorcycles present. An opportune time to gather fuel and sustenance (or in this case maccas). A phone call to Reddo confirms that those crazy, zany HVNOC cats could be just about anywhere.
Having purchased a map of Hunter and Environs, perusal reinforced the view that the freeway via Barnsely would be a prudent way to make favourable time on our fellow Nortonians. Hence, the ton was called for on yon highway, until at least, Peat's Ridge became turnoff rather than concept, for an even older highway be taketh. Bend after bend and mile upon mile we did go, until such time as a 'third' machine did appear. Thinking this to be a newer manifestation of 'motorcycle', one tried one's best not to 'let down' the marque.
Indeed, did such sparks emit, as pipes did bark and brake discs soak.
Such was the exhilaration, that one became flummoxed as to the path ahead..............
As if from one's inner thoughts, a Commando rider materialised, followed by a Vincent Black Shadow and more Nortons. A dream where friends float in and out......
Brooklyn approached. The ton was, again, summoned and executed, as the resultant turnoff dictated a certain speed range - scarcely met.
A tavern surrounded by many two-wheeled, internally combusted transportation machines radiated a 'good' sense, as garments were shed, and merriment adoned. For a few hours, riders arrived;- a welcome mixture of new and familiar, from the dawn of time to the arc of the infinity. Machines from Brough to John Player sought our gaze, whilst sun, food and conversation were consumed with vigor. Perhaps a hundred machines strong, said tavern resonated with mirth and respect, long after the last one had left.
Our paths wind and spiral from without of our control, yet still, we meet."

Baz and Mr. Sweetie's account shamelessly grabbed from the Made in England list

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