Saturday arvo it seemed like a good idea, but when the alarm clock crowed at 6:30am Sunday morning I was second-guessing myself. “Faaark…” I groaned as I rolled out of bed. The things we do for our passion.
Fellow Perth Cafe Racer member Liam called past my house for a 7am departure and we were off to the Vintage Motorcycle Swap Meet. We curled through the winding streets, UK v USA, and took the onramp into the Polly Pipe. Like a swarm of hornets we took that tunnel at a leisurely pace. We’d be back. For now it was time to wake up to the soothing tones of motorcycle music.
The swap meet was a treasure trove of motorbike bric-a-brac and projects galore, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d seen most of it before. After a brief walk of the swap meet circuit and the devouring of a hotdog, we found ourselves inside the hall, checking out the vintage bike exhibition.
Indians and 1920s Harleys, BSAs and Triumphs, M20s and complete DIYs; it was impossible to leave that room not feeling inspired. We picked our favourites, put in our vote, thanked the organisers and headed back to our bikes.
We were saddled up and ready to rock when Liam was greeted and enveloped by a couple of ‘vintage’ UK-riding boilers, hell bent on asking 101 questions of the ex-Queenslander-ex-WAer about his beautiful Bonny. Granted, I’d just spent the previous ten minutes discussing with a fellow rider the merits of (how bloody awesome) the Harley XL 1200 97-98 Sporters (are). Seems my bike is grabbing a lot more attention since its cut-and-paint job. Big up (and shameless plug) to Osborne Park’s Motorcycle Panel & Paint!
But I digress. After brushing aside the adoring genuflections of the post-60’s biker babes, Liam gave the thumbs up and we were on the road.
We took Albany Highway back towards Leederville for our 9am congregation with the Perth Café Racers, hit the Great Eastern and then back towards the Polly Pipe. We put on a plethora of motorcylic voices through that blessed tunnel, rich bassy tones for the enjoyment of no one but ourselves. Much to our credit we kept to the speed limit (as we always do) and upon exiting the tunnel spied a stationary motorcycle policeman from our fine Royal Australian Policing Establishment eying us off. “Great…” we thought to ourselves and started concocting excuses for the symphonic exhaust music we’d just been composing on our way through the Pipe.
But much to our surprise he indicated left and headed into the tunnel. Good times. Of course, we crept into Leederville 10kph under the speed limit.