The M.M.B.C Old Goats

Got held up at work last night and so didnt get out of the house until 7pm. With the South Barrule ride off my shopping list and a couple of hours max in which to play, I turned to the dark side and decided to give the Salsa its second airing of the year.

Now I aint the biggest of road fans, but there is something vaguely theraputic about just pedalling without having to navigate technical sections and gates, sheep shit and the like. Before I took the plunge and bought this bike last year I sought advice from Dreggs and memorised his words. ” The great thing about a road bike is that you dont get covered in faakin shit and dont have to spend half a faakin hour washing the faakin thing after every faakin ride. Also two hours riding a road bike is e-faakin-quivelant to 3 faakin hours on a faakin mountain bike”. I cant think why Immigration wont let him back into NZ.

I remember the great bald chief saying he can get round the TT course in 2 hours, but in two previous attempts Ive never been able to better 2-1/4 hours. So starting from the QB at exactly 7pm last night I thought Id try to nail the 2 hours. I failed. It took me exactly 30 mins to get to the 10th milestone, 1 hour to Sulby Bridge. 2 hours dead got me right on the Brandywell corner. I got back to the start point in 2 hours 9 mins. I wasnt flat out racing, but I was going as fast as I comfortably could without giving myself a heart attack. I lost a bit of time at Ballacraine when I just missed the lights, and then a few more precious seconds at Glenncrutcherry crossroads & the Bray hill roadworks, but other than that it was a solid ride. I did have a chuckle to myself while I was struggling up to Guthries, and then remembering that I had gears! Dozy twat.

I realise the Columbia-Highroad team wont be calling me up to step in for the Tour this year, but I wonder what sort of time other Goats have got round the TT course in? Im not talking about racing on closed roads, but just going for it on normal open roads and not cheating the course (apart from missing the dip out at Governors). Whats your PB?

If youre feeling pain and you need some drugs, who ya gonna call? Goat Buster.

Vaguely reminiscent of ‘an evening at the Nixons’ back in July 2007, Saturday night saw a smattering of Old Goats once again descend upon Buster & Marion’s peaceful pad perched in idyllic Silverdale to quaff the champers, scoff some classy snap, mingle with the elite (and Stu Brew) and generally lower the tone. The occasion was to celebrate the grecian abusers birthday, though with compulsary retirement looming this one was a milestone as the slow old giffer signs up with Ye Olde Goats chapter. To be fair, he dont look bad for 60, but we do wonder how much of it is real and how much comes out of a bottle. We dont even know for sure if he can actually stand up without pharmaceutical assistance and maybe we’ll never really know. For now, I ask you to charge your glasses and raise a toast to Ye Olde Grecian Goat. Long may he continue to cycle up hills a good half hour behind everybody else.

Uncomfirmed reports have been flooding into the Goat Towers press office since the early hours. Fans have been swarming around his family home literally in their tens, as rumours persist that the King of Dogging may have finally parked up in the great car park in the sky.

Lets examine the facts. We aint seen him since Ambleside. In truth nobody can remember if he got on the ferry with us. Has anyone spotted him? Has the Dogger chewed his last bone?

A very brief post because - a) Its midnight. b) Im knackered. c) I talk bolllocks.

Tholty Will carpark is officially the epicentre of Midgedom in the island. Dont go anywhere near the place without a gallon of Skin So Soft. Check out the time. We’d just started the ride and already we were half eaten.

As always (from Tholty carpark) there was a steep climb from the off which took us into Ohio. Then we caught the Narradale track up to the Mountain Box and blasted along the mountain road to Brookdale plantation for some downward malarkey. Plenty of offs kept the laughs coming.

Then we took a run through Mickey’s track where time started to press on and so we took the Jungle track down towards Sky Hill, then a swoop down to the road where we pedalled our bollocks off into a fierce headwind for what seemed like hours. We we gagging for some cake back at the carpark and young Lambie did us proud once more.

Im off for some ZZZZZzzzzzzz’s

Night night.

Lock up your nephews, the Ballbag is back. He’s been on the island over a week and didnt bother telling anyone. What a Ballbag. I noticed that Tesco were sold out of mansize Kleenex but didnt make the connection. He couldnt even be arsed to pop in & say hello at Goat Towers and so may face a disciplinary hearing headed by the great bald chief. He left Bike Village under mysterious circumstances and refuses to comment. We can only presume that the sleeping arrangements were not to his liking.

He’s pencilled in for a return to South Barrule tonight, so we may all get a chance to grill him. (As apposed to a spit roast).

Apologies

Its been ages since we had a ride report. Since then so many great rides have been & gone. A bit like turds really. Ace when theyre happening and you feel great for a while afterwards, though ultimately when theyre gone, theyre gone. Unless you live in Surby of course. I remember I went round the Ballbags house one afternoon and while supping a nice hot cuppa in his front room I was staggered to spot a full display cabinet full of large jars containing a selection of the Ballbags girthier turds. He reckons it breaks the ice at parties.

Ride.

Firstly we welcomed our overseas visitors to the Thursday night ride. Direct from the West coast of the US was John. Hmm, straight off I reckon everyone had an inckling how it might all end. Next up and direct from the Eastern coast of the UK was Danbro sporting a weirder accent still. Others present and in no parculiar order were: Arkwright, Cakemaker, Baboon Arse, Big Dave, Medium Rob, Mad Dog, Sweaty Michael and Bonz. Krazy Legs popped in to say hello on his O’Toole customized GSXR. Over in the other paddock was Mad Manx Cow taking the Angels out for a ride sharing a similar first leg as our planned venture.

Evil.

Ten minutes along the tracks towards the Mines track up to Archie and our Yankee chum punctured. It was about now that Dixie & me realised we were in the prescence of one crazy Californian. It would have been genuinley scary if he wasnt so bloody friendly. I have a suspiscion that alarm bells were ringing back at the QB carpark, when he arrived for the ride in jeans & hiking boots. His bike was a mid 90’s £99 Freemans Catalogue full suss special. The chain hadnt seen clean oil since new (though it was caked in black slimey tar). The midges feasted on us for a good ten minutes as we struggled to find a spanner to get his rear wheel off. We were hoping that while we were pulling our guts out trying to get the tyre off the rim for the first time in the bikes illustrious history, he’d be getting a tube out of his rucksack. Our hearts sank when he pulled out a puncture repair kit. To cut a long story short, Dixie donated his spare tube and we were soon on our way.

Flabbergasted.

Now that Dixie feller is a nice chap. Always a big smile on his baby face, but I witnessed a darker side to his Tromodian persona when he suggested we bugger off rapid and leave John for the girls. I didnt want to but Dixie made me.

Impressive.

On a computer screen the ride doesnt look groundbreaking. First mines track up for a lap of Archie. Over the boards along Rhenshent and a quick skert into Stoney while it was dry. Finishing with a road blast to Chibb for a taste of Cakemans best. It was a belter of a ride.

Buttress.

Danbro came over to see his mate and longtime onetime Old Goat Guy Martin and proved to be just as tasty on a mountain bike. Mention must also go to Sweaty Michael who is simply flying on his On-one 29er. Getting common as shit nowadays. I might have to take up Mad Dog Rielly’s idea of going Unicycle as a new niche. We never did see John again. I wonder if he’s a Mafia boss over on holiday to watch the TT. Lets hops Dixie doesnt wake up with a Goats head in his bed anytime soon.

Gregarious.

Next Thursday we’re back at Tholty Will, so we’ll all wake up next Friday unable to walk. Maybe turds are better afterall?

Libel.

Some of the events described may have been altered slightly for theatrical release. Any likeness to any persons living or stiff is purely intentional.

Ladies and Gentleman, in association with Cat Price productions, a grand night out is planned for Friday 10th July at the Port St Mary Golf Pavillion. Start time is 19:00 and the price per head is a measly 15 queens heads. The menu is to be confirmed but I have it on good authority that the place cooks a treat.

It would help if we could get an idea of numbers two weeks in advance so if you want to go shout up on here. You know it makes sense.

Better late than never eh? Its now Monday and Ive only just got round to posting these pics from Thursday’s Misty Mountain Hop. Sorry for the delay. Chief Goat and spunk trumpeter extraordinaire Slapski’s a right slavedriver. He’s had me giving his Penthouse suite a damn good spring clean. Not many of you will have been invited up to the palatial 37th floor of Goat Towers. On a day like today the view is simply stunning. From his rooftop swimming pool You can see right across to Annagh Coar stores & just make out the Heron. Actually I dont so much get invited as summoned on a janitorial basis. Anyway, the ride.

A hot evening and a mass turnout to the tune of 18. Big welcome to TT race hero Guy Martin, or as Dave ‘Mad Dog’ Rielly calls him - Noddy. The route plan was to take the Tholty Road up to the Millenium Way track and off across Block Eary and up towards the Mountain Box, then a quick hop across the road & up to North Barrule. Ah, it all sounded so easy in the carpark. Right from the off we were navigating the reservoir dam climb and boy did we cook in our own juices. None of us had a Sat Nav on our bikes but the temperature meter in my head read VFH. The pace was fierce. Soaring temperatures along with legs still shagged from the Lakes stint meant I simply died on my arse that night. What was the hurry? It was like a balls out race up to the top of North Barrule.

The drop down the other side caught nearly everyone out ,as usual, and after a quick lap around Ballure we said goodbye to the NOGs (Kale, Neil & Rob). The decision was made to road it back along the TT course from the Gooseneck and try to beat Noddy Guy. Back down the track behind the Mountain Box and turning right before Block Eary had us zig zagging down into Tholt y Will just as night was kicking in. It was 10:30 by the time we got back to the car park and the cake queue had already started forming behind the deceptively spacious Berlingo, fronted by a salvitating Cakebelly.

NSC for the next 2 Thursdays and if you think Im going that hard again you can all kiss my hairy, and profusely sweaty, bollocks.

Love Mother Goat.

A stark contrast to the last Bank Holiday Monday Munter, check out this fat biffer.