It is once again time for the annual Thumper Bash, the one event I’ve managed to attend, one way or another, since I joined the Forum. The first year I had to cage it as Kodgehopper, who I was suppsed to pillion with, almost wrote off both his Yammie and himself; the second year the Purple Hooligan developed a terminal battery, dead by the time we hit the N1, and now it was time to show off my latest love, the Purple Gentleman.
Eikeboom and Parkinoff are keen, promising gentle speeds for our friendship anniversary ride. Hard to believe I only met them last year for the ride to the Bash, feels like I’ve known them forever. Parkinoff Jr decides he wants to ride with his dad, but he just sold his Husky, and shyly agrees to give the Hooligan an airing. Growweblaar also cracks a nod after expressing some interest in our route and the fact we start from close to his home
atch:
My eyes glisten: I did some calculations, and with both the Purple Turtles going, as well as Eikeboom’s DR650 and some other maybes, there might well be a mini-DR convention at the Thumper Bash. I’ve realised by now that DR650s very seldom travel in groups, so having DRs gathered from all over SA is quite the micro-event. :3some:
Parkinoff, who lives in the Bay area (Betty’s, that is) asks me the day before we leave whether I’d mind if he slept at my place... after he waived my invite right at the start of planning to do just that. I tell him welcome, not mentioning that I'd asked Dux and Minion to house sit, and they now occupied my only guest room. I could sleep on the couch. Parkinoff rolls in with a Michael Jackson-style face mask: he has a bit of ‘flu. He declares himself happy to sleep on the couch, not fully realising its limitations.
My cooking skills are even more dire than my riding skills, and I unilaterally decide we are going to Stellenbosch for dinner. We pull in at Hudson’s, apparently quite the prima burger joint. The atmospere is convivial and we place our orders, burgers all around except for the Minion.
The Minion pores over the menu and whispers: “Cookie Monster”. We go sit at the counter and watch it being prepared, our eyes growing rounder and rounder. The barman pulls out a glass the size of the Minion’s head. He smears the outside with Bar One sauce, a layer so thick if it was cement, it would’ve held a house together. Then he rolls it in crushed chocolate cookies. He fills it up with some kind of malty chocolate milk shake, pushes in a straw, and places two chocolate cookies stacked one on top of the other, on top. In between is a dollop of ice cream, and on top is a dollop of ice cream, with a cherry as a finishing touch. We stare.
The Minion wordlessly hands me the cherry, nibbles at the top cookie and puts it aside, takes a small sip of the milkshake, and then settles down to do battle. She takes up the spoon, and with concentration and dedication, starts scraping off the outside layer of Bar One sauce and crushed cookies. Parkinoff and Dux valiantly attack the cookies, but it defeats them. We all sip some milkshake, but it is too much and we throw in the towel, shame-faced. I can definitely recommend the burgers at Hudson’s, but beware the Cookie Monster
We head home and prepare to turn in. There's a frantic call from Parkinoff Jr - the long range tank on Hooligan had started leaking. Dux fetches another smaller fuel tank, and takes it through to Parkinoff Jr, who manages to mount it without problems. I’m slightly apprehensive. The Hooligan is thirstier than the Gentleman, but Eikeboom’s DR sports a standard tank and although he carries a few extra litres of fuel, he arranged fuel stops with this in mind. The Gentleman could also act as fuel donor if necessary. We turn in to sleep.
Eikeboom and Parkinoff are keen, promising gentle speeds for our friendship anniversary ride. Hard to believe I only met them last year for the ride to the Bash, feels like I’ve known them forever. Parkinoff Jr decides he wants to ride with his dad, but he just sold his Husky, and shyly agrees to give the Hooligan an airing. Growweblaar also cracks a nod after expressing some interest in our route and the fact we start from close to his home
atch:My eyes glisten: I did some calculations, and with both the Purple Turtles going, as well as Eikeboom’s DR650 and some other maybes, there might well be a mini-DR convention at the Thumper Bash. I’ve realised by now that DR650s very seldom travel in groups, so having DRs gathered from all over SA is quite the micro-event. :3some:
Parkinoff, who lives in the Bay area (Betty’s, that is) asks me the day before we leave whether I’d mind if he slept at my place... after he waived my invite right at the start of planning to do just that. I tell him welcome, not mentioning that I'd asked Dux and Minion to house sit, and they now occupied my only guest room. I could sleep on the couch. Parkinoff rolls in with a Michael Jackson-style face mask: he has a bit of ‘flu. He declares himself happy to sleep on the couch, not fully realising its limitations.
My cooking skills are even more dire than my riding skills, and I unilaterally decide we are going to Stellenbosch for dinner. We pull in at Hudson’s, apparently quite the prima burger joint. The atmospere is convivial and we place our orders, burgers all around except for the Minion.
The Minion pores over the menu and whispers: “Cookie Monster”. We go sit at the counter and watch it being prepared, our eyes growing rounder and rounder. The barman pulls out a glass the size of the Minion’s head. He smears the outside with Bar One sauce, a layer so thick if it was cement, it would’ve held a house together. Then he rolls it in crushed chocolate cookies. He fills it up with some kind of malty chocolate milk shake, pushes in a straw, and places two chocolate cookies stacked one on top of the other, on top. In between is a dollop of ice cream, and on top is a dollop of ice cream, with a cherry as a finishing touch. We stare.
The Minion wordlessly hands me the cherry, nibbles at the top cookie and puts it aside, takes a small sip of the milkshake, and then settles down to do battle. She takes up the spoon, and with concentration and dedication, starts scraping off the outside layer of Bar One sauce and crushed cookies. Parkinoff and Dux valiantly attack the cookies, but it defeats them. We all sip some milkshake, but it is too much and we throw in the towel, shame-faced. I can definitely recommend the burgers at Hudson’s, but beware the Cookie Monster
We head home and prepare to turn in. There's a frantic call from Parkinoff Jr - the long range tank on Hooligan had started leaking. Dux fetches another smaller fuel tank, and takes it through to Parkinoff Jr, who manages to mount it without problems. I’m slightly apprehensive. The Hooligan is thirstier than the Gentleman, but Eikeboom’s DR sports a standard tank and although he carries a few extra litres of fuel, he arranged fuel stops with this in mind. The Gentleman could also act as fuel donor if necessary. We turn in to sleep.
