Rally going

[grossohc]

This is from another site but peeps who used to go on bike rallies a while back should appreciate it.

 

 

 

 

Put all the clothes that are going to be worn at the rally in the wash basket ready.

 

Realise that your favourite rally t shirt is missing and hunt through the house trying to find it.

 

Unable to find your favourite rally t shirt sulk.

 

Decide not to pack the tent and camping stuff early because you left it clean and tidy last year.

 

Sit back feeling smug that this year you are not going to go the year’s first rally unprepared.

 

Come home from work on Friday and realise you don’t know where the tent is.

 

A Friend calls and asks if you are packed and ready, you reply cheerfully ‘Sure’ and tell them you will be with them shortly.

 

Get annoyed because your friend is organised and mutter ‘*******’ under your breath

 

Find the tent.

 

Feel horrified as you realise you haven’t water proofed your tent.

 

Get your throw overs out of the cupboard, open them and find a sock.

 

Realise that you have not washed all the clothes you need to take to the rally.

 

Search through the ironing to find something you can take with you.

 

Start to pack.

 

Scream loudly as you realise you are not going to get all the stuff you have in the throw overs.

 

Ruthlessly go through your clothes to decide what to take and what not to take.

 

If you are male this means only taking a toothbrush.

 

If you are female this means at least 24 pairs of pants, and 7 pairs of emergency pants.

 

Take luggage out to the bike.

 

Carefully load the bike.

 

As you go to strap the stuff down you find that the bungee cords you have don’t seem to be long enough.

 

You trap your fingers. One bungee snaps off and almost takes one of your teeth out.

 

You make sure every thing is tied down as solid as you can so nothing will move. As you turn your back your luggage slowly slides off your bike.

 

Realise that you have not packed any cooking stuff.

 

Tell the neighbour to F*** off when they say hello over the garden wall.

 

Hunt through the house for the gas stove and pans.

 

‘Phone rings. It’s your parents; after spending 15 minutes listening to them tell you about the amusingly shaped marrow old Mr Hill has grown you do a good impression of a telephone answering machine and pretend to be out.

 

Find your cooking stuff and notice a strange smell coming from it.

 

You open a small plastic container and sniff.

 

Spend the next 15 minutes with head over the toilet being sick.

 

Reload the bike.

 

Tell your self you are not going to go back now, not for anything.

 

You ride down the road.

 

Realise that your sleeping bag is on the kitchen table.

 

Go home, unload the bike.

 

Threaten your next door neighbour with violence if they talk to you again.

 

Grab the sleeping bag and reload the bike.

 

Lock the house.

 

Realise you have left the bike keys in the house.

 

Run in to the house, grab your keys.

 

Lock the house, kick over and smash a milk bottle.

 

Stand looking puzzled because you have milk in cartons.

 

Arrive at your friends house and realise you are only an hour late.

 

Find your friend eating their tea and nothing loaded on to their bike.

 

When your friend says they have just got to go for a shower you have to be stopped from strangling them.

 

They go and get ready and you calm down.

 

You leave your friends house, now 2 hours late.

 

Head off to meet up with other friends at their house.

 

When you arrive find that they are all waiting patiently and have been drinking coffee like it was an Olympic event.

 

Apologise as you explain the problems you had finding your tent, cooker, airbed and food.

 

Drink coffee.

 

Set off 3 hours late.

 

Start to feel relaxed as you head out on to the open road, the wind in your face and miles of empty road ahead.

 

Spend the next 24 miles stopping every 4 miles so that people can go for a Pizz as the coffee they have drunk waiting for you to get your **** together kicks in.

 

Get annoyed for all the stops you have to do and mutter loud enough for people to hear.

 

Realise 10 minutes after stopping for the last time you need a Pizz.

 

You decide that because you made such a big thing about the rest of them stopping you will ride on.

 

After an hour’s ride you stop for petrol and your friends asks you where the rally is, you say that you don’t know and you were following them. Your friends insist that you can’t be because they are following you.

 

You are starting to feel light headed as the urge to Pizz gets stronger.

 

Get really worried when you see loads of laden bikes on the OTHER side of the motorway

 

See a petrol station and decide to stop to ask directions and to use the toilet.

 

You see the toilet and casually walk over.

 

As you get with in 20 foot of the door you notice the haze around the door, at 10 foot you notice the smell.

 

You decide that you are not brave enough to use this toilet.

 

Your friend distracts the man behind the desk in the petrol station with impressions of farm animals as you try and find out where you should be heading using a map off the shelf without paying for it.

 

You realise you have been riding in the wrong direction for the past 30 minutes.

 

You find the village the rally is being held in.

 

You pull over and find the flyer for the rally and read the directions. On the back is a simple map showing a pub called the White horse on your left and an X opposite.

 

You ride through the village 20 times trying to find the pub.

 

You stop to ask one of the locals who puts at the building behind him.

 

You realise that you had missed the pub when your friend, who was supposed to know where they were going was busy waving at sheep.

 

As you turn in to the field you notice that every one is already drunk and the best camping spots have been taken.

 

You find a nice secluded spot to pitch your tent.

 

You find out you only seem to have half the tent pegs with you.

 

The tent has a strange smell to it. You realise it was packed away damp last time you used it. You now have to spend a weekend sleeping in a tent that smells like athletes foot.

 

As you unroll your sleeping bag you find a sock.

 

Feeling more relaxed you decide to roll a joint.

 

You cradle your head in your hands as you realise you have bought a bag of oregano instead of your finest weed.

 

As you feel dejected about not having any weed to smoke you smile as you realise you must have given the bag of weed to your next door neighbour who wanted a few spices to put in a stew they were having that night.

 

Feeling hungry and wanting a pint you walk up to the pub.

 

At the pub you buy a burger that simply put contains a meat product, you are not sure what but suspect it to have been meat at some point, maybe.

 

You spend the night drinking beer and eating various types of food. Feeling very ****ed you decide to try the Super Mega Chilli burger made with new improved pseudo meat.

 

You drink more beer.

 

You hold a conversation with someone you have never met before in your life. You realise that because of the volume of the music you cannot understand a word they are saying, but nod occasionally and smile. You are not aware they are thinking the same.

 

You are amazed that when you are ****ed you can sing really well and you know all the words to bat out of hell.

 

You hold another conversation with someone called bear or was it wolf. You cannot remember the name exactly but you know it was something like dog or chinchilla.

 

You get a funny look from a bloke called wolf when you call him gerbil.

 

You stagger back to your tent grinning like a Cheshire cat.

 

Your friend passes you a joint the size of a small dog; you ask them where they got the weed from. They tell you they got given it as payment for not doing any more impressions of farm animals in the pub as it was slightly unnerving.

 

The joint kicks in.

 

You spend the next 15 minutes giggling because your friend sad bum.

 

You sit on the grass and decide to make a cup of coffee.

 

You drag the stove out of your tent and try to light it.

 

After 10 minutes of trying to light the stove you feel happy as it burns away under your kettle.

 

You console yourself that your eyebrows will grow back.

 

The kettle boils but you do not notice because you are flat out on your back talking to your friend about if there is life on another planet.

 

You try to name some of the constellations – the great pan handle, Ursula Major, the gamma quadrant and the Pole star, which passes overhead on its journey from Dublin to Manchester.

 

The Super Mega chilli burger kicks in.

 

As you sprint across the field you realise the chilli has the same affect as a surgical laxative.

 

You find an empty cubicle and rush in. The lock is missing and there is a strange smell but you don’t care.

 

As you sit on the toilet, one foot against the door to keep it shut you try not to shout out as the chilli has its revenge. You are convinced you are going to have 3rd degree burns of the anus after this one.

 

You realise there is no toilet paper. You search through your pockets for any tissues.

 

One pocket sized packet of Kleenex, a sock and two receipts for petrol later you emerge relieved.

 

If you are female you open the window and look for the air freshener.

 

If you are male you snigger as you imagine the next person to enter your cubicle gets assaulted by the toxic odour.

 

If you are female you wash your hands.

 

If you are male you tell the first person you meet that after that little toilet adventure you should be entitled to maternity leave.

 

Make mental note to burn underwear when you get home.

 

You wobble back to your tent and collapse in a drunken heap and then crawl in to your sleeping bag.

 

Just as you are drifting off in to oblivion you realise that your tent has changed colour and so has your sleeping bag.

 

Someone stirs next to you and asks ‘Is that you Kevin?’

 

You realise you are in the wrong tent.

 

At 6am you wake up feeling rough. The human body is approximately 80% water but you are convinced that 90% of that is in your bladder at the moment.

 

You struggle and squirm as you try to find the zip on the sleeping bag. After 10 minutes you get your self free. You pull your jeans on and almost Pizz your self as you go to do the zip up.

 

You walk bleary eyed over to the toilets. Before entering you take a deep breath.

As you walk back to your tent you almost fall over a drunk who has slept where they fell on the field. They are now covered in the morning dew and are snoring loudly.

 

You pack your stuff away and cannot understand how it all went away in the first place.

 

You throw stuff on the bike and hope it doesn’t fall off on the way home.

 

You look puzzled as you realise that the couple next to you have packed a 5 man tent, deck chairs, double airbed, inflatable sofa, double burner and king sized quilt in to two small hard panniers on their BMW and it is all held on with one flimsy multi coloured strap. Your luggage looks like it is in to bondage with all the straps and bungees that hold it in place.

 

You have one last look around where you have camped in case you have left anything.

 

You find a sock.