Wangi Wangi Ride 14th Dec 2023

 It was a small, sad-arsed group. But we’ll come back to that. 

 

The morning started off interestingly. We motored off, eight of us, and almost immediately we were arrested. By the police. Of course, we denied everything, dobbed each other in without being asked and in due course, none of us having been found to be intoxicated by anything but the warm weather, were released. Soon the small and grumbling traffic jam we had help create moved on.

 

Off to Jerries at Kulnara for morning tea, or coffee. Some interesting news from Jerry. His establishment will be closed from next week to the end of January. He, with his family, are off to Vietnam. He has subbed in a catering van, so that coffee will be available but there will be no Portuguese tarts. Jerry was unwillingly entertained as we displayed; excruciatingly, patronisingly, and competitively, our knowledge of the five principal dialects of the Vietnamese language and of our last holiday in Hanoi. Eventually out of our grasp, he wandered off shaking his head, mumbling something about how he wished the boat had landed somewhere other than Australia!

 

It was a pleasant run down Bumble Hill and through the Yarramalong Valley. The temperature gauge now was showing 38 degrees. A little later it moved up to 39 degrees as we went via Jillaby and Dooralong. We had a slow tail, and with only eight riders and a shortage of corner markers that wouldn’t want to sit in the hot sun, the ride became a little discombobulated. I blamed the leader.

 

By Morriset, having cut out the slightly complicated but otherwise pleasant Dora Creek route, the weather had become hot, damned hot. Torrid hot. As we bumbled on, strung out and transitioning to survival mode, we realised an affinity with the Rats of Tobruk. We wouldn’t give in. We would press on; this is the spirit of the Rats of Wangi!

 

And there we were. At Wangi Wangi. People in their houses pressed against the windowpanes, aghast at the heroism of these motor-cyclists pushing on through the furnace of the day. We entered the house. Not simply relief, but the Rats of Wangi were enveloped by a perfect 22.70 degree solar-powered air-conditioned air. Paradise. Because the complement was small, there was room around the table for all and we sat down for the most civilised lunch that I have ever had on a Ulysses ride; perhaps that I’d ever had? 

 

The salad was perfect. The famous Rathmines Butchery sausages were cooked with a golden and slightly crispy skin. The fabulous Wangi Bakery bread was a delight. The salad was, well, nourishing. The beverages were beautifully chilled. My wife, Jennifer, was responsible for all this. 

 

There was only one problem. Despite best efforts, there were not enough Rats of Wangi to eat all the food. We had expected 20 people, not eight.

 

We understand there are rational people out there that had studied the weather forecast. They would have been laying around their house with John Le Carre’s Honourable Schoolboy, or perhaps Orwell’s biography of Vladimir Putin, written almost a hundred years ago. But, wimps, procrastinators, pussies; this was a charity event. You should have been there! 

 

The Rats of Wangi managed to contribute $255.00 to the Ulysses Club Arthritis Research Fund (UCARF). Not bad for an overheated bunch of old derelicts. Look at  https://ucarf.com/ for more information. This is the selected Ulysses charity and the one time we ask you for a donation. Arthritis is a disease that takes its toll on many otherwise active riders, robbing them of a quality of life and cutting them short. Please make your contribution now, via Electronic Funds Transfer to:

 

Name:                 UCARF

BSB:                     062 517

Account No:      10786075

Bank:                  CBA

 

Let me know when you have done so. Last year we raised $620. Please help try and beat that. Under “Description” in the Bank Transfer, put “Thursday Rider” and then your name as Remitter.

 

Think too of contingent casualties and of my discomfort. I have to eat 28kg of sausages (and salad). This will carry on for days. Our sweet little dog, a cavoodle, does what she can to help mitigate the sausage over-supply crisis but she found herself calling the RSPCA hot-line to get counselling on her Sausage Dog Toxic Stress Syndrome (SDTSS). She’s in sausage-shock and is filling out to look a little like Rod May’s pugs that, until now, lusted after her.

 

I received a note from Alan Bateman later in the day and he said that on the way back, down the freeway, the temperature hit 43 degrees. That is indeed hot, especially when you consider that the length of Alan’s legs and body elevate his head to that part of the atmosphere that is normally a couple of degrees cooler than for the average person!

 

So – GIVE GENEROUSLY – in tribute to the Rats of Wangi, and to help deal with Arthritis!

 

Happy Christmas & Merry & Prosperous  New Year!

Stephen