Bol Dor Motorcyle Madness – early hours of the morning…

back to camp...

Bol Dor Motorcyle Madness discovered that our calm camping spot had turned into a scene from a Mad Max movie… bikes everywhere… and I mean everywhere… tents of all shapes and sizes and lots of nutters revving their bikes too death because it sounded good… we all agreed that this was very silly and to quote cab “it isn’t big and it isn’t clever”… wandered around the campsite watching all the loonies revving their bikes into the red line… engine cut out being hit each time… big noise… big flames out of exhaust… we all repeated the chant of ‘it’s not big and it’s not clever’… we went back to camp got our bike keys out and revved the nuts off our own bikes whilst chanting “Fantastic! Look how big and clever I am”… eventually sanity returned and we all stumbled into our tents… earplugs in..

drunken slumber shortly followed… 3:00am I’m awoken by neighbouring Froggy blokes revving their R1 to the stops so that it shot out big flames and snap, crackled and popped next to my tent… right next to my tent… I wrapped my leather jacket around my head and hoped that my ears had stopped bleeding by the morning… 3:30am awoken again by one of the same froggy blokes falling on top of my tent… whacked him around the head a few times…

put the tent back up and went back to sleep (sleep is not really an accurate description but it’s a pain typing “intermittent snoozing being woken by exploding engines, french/swiss/dutch drinking songs, exhaust banging, frozen toes and empty beer bottles bouncing off the tent walls”)… That’s just a standard part of the Bol Dor Motorcyle Madness…

7am… give up trying to sleep… get up… Rob is up and about stumbling around the camp… gradually the T595’ers come back to life and stagger down to the washroom… less said about the toilets the better… coffee… pain o’chocolate… cold Tartiflette is purchased, studied and sensibly declined… Cab eats it anyway… watch some super stock racing… wander around stalls looking for stuff to buy…

go to start/finish line in preparation for start of race… I’m despatched back to camp to get camera and to move my tent away from motorcycle exhaust gallery…

An hour later and I’m still at camp and now drinking Ricard with Froggy blokes from last night… Luckily Gary comes back to rescue me… grab a crate of beers and head back to watch the running start of the BolDor… sit and watch first couple of hours of race and drink beer in the sunshine… stagger back to camp and are surprised to find that tents and bikes are still there…

evening comes and, for a a change, we wander down to the campsite village to drink some more beer… accompanied by the pop-pop-bang-bang-Vroooom chorus… watch various drunken antics involving motorcycle engines, minimotos, trail bikes, standalone engines on blocks being revved to destruction, exhaust systems made by plastic guttering, burnouts, wheelies, stoppies and every other form of motorcycle madness… Rob starts the age old post-beer cry of ‘KeeeyBab”… wander down to kebab vans… Rob vanishes… French blokes are wandering around with a minimoto engine… revving it.. squirting petrol into the exhaust… we all laugh at the flames… hardly dangerous at all… more beer is consumed… Cab has a dance with a strange drunken French chap… tartiflette suddenly looks inviting… eat tartiflette, drink beer and watch angry tartiflette bloke… anticipated fight never happens…

Rob re-appears holding a fake pit lane pass that he had got from some other dodgy brits… it worked though… to celebrate his return we get another round of beers… finally stagger back to camp… much quieter night this time… collapse and pass out…