Old Bastards Vintage Motorcycle Rally 09 Sep 06

In the small hamlet of Delta, Ontario, deep within... are you ready for this?... Bastard Township, there lives a group of vintage motorcycle enthusiasts who call themselves the "Old Bastards Vintage Motorcycle Club". Now before all the sensitive types start firing off emails to me about the bad word content here, let me explain that the township of Bastard is a legitimate name which has survived countless attempts by politicians to change it over the years. The rally itself is an annual event that has been around for awhile, too and as I found out today is one of the better-organised ones in the region. I had heard of the club and the event before, but had never gotten around to attending it until now. I was unsure how the Ural would be received there, so I enlisted some backup with a call to my fellow CURDite and adventurer, Cam and his '05 Patrol. He showed up at my house this morning in defiance of the rain and after some coffee and a chat we both headed out into the cold drizzle, working our way along the back roads up to the town of Delta. Hector, of course, was only too eager to accompany us and didn't seem at all perturbed by the gentle waves of rain during the hour-long journey.
We had our first UDF session of the day upon our arrival at the registration tent. In between registering and paying the rally fee, I helped Cam answer all the usual Ural questions but got sidetracked when I spotted this beautifully restored Rover 3500 idling up to the entrance. While her hubby was busy at the registration tent, I wandered over and asked the nice British lady behind the wheel if I could take a picture. My Dad used to have a Rover 2000TC and had always wanted the 3500 with its aluminum block V8 - so this one's for you, Dad.
We eventually cleared registration and motored our way into the campsite area where the rally was being held. I spotted my old Army buddy Pete, who had ridden in from Wingham (over 500km away) on his Norton and while he and I were chatting, Cam headed off on his Patrol to the washrooms at the far end of the site. On the way back, he parked by the Events tent to see what was on for the day and within seconds was surrounded by another throng of curious onlookers. This was to be a common occurrence for the rest of the time we were there.
Because of the inclement weather, a lot of smart bike owners had brought along tarps and tents of various sizes to keep the rain off of their prized motorcycles. As would be expected at a vintage bike event, a lot of them were trailered in. But it was a pleasant surprise to see them being ridden about despite the muck, in fact we had arrived a scant 10 minutes after the "official morning ride" had returned. Many of the bikes were still ticking away as I wandered past, still cooling off from the ride.
There was a surprising number of old Harleys in attendance, including this OPP servi-car. Old Shovelheads were in abundance; many of them looking as well used as their owners. What made this event unusual was that everyone was friendly, regardless of what bike they rode and many had brought their families along to take in the event. It was a treat to talk to so many different bike owners and not have to deal with attitudes!
In fact, I was so impressed with the organisation and the people in attendance that I followed Cam's lead and joined the Old Bastards MC. My buddy Pete did, too. As we were signing up I noticed this beautiful old 1928 BMW at the end of the tent. It was an absolute masterpiece and a beautifully done restoration.
There were other Beemers in attendance that caught my eye, too, like this nicely done example. Sort of a cross between a motard and a dirt bike, it was one of the more unusual BMW's I'd seen in awhile. There were many other old airheads motoring about and even a few newer ones like the '05 GS with British Columbia plates that pulled up while we were registering at the gate.
And of course "vintage" isn't a word reserved for only the old British and German bikes; there were a fair number of Japanese classics sprinkled about. This Suzuki RE5 rotary-engined beauty had to have been one of the sharpest bikes there. It really looked like it had just rolled off the showroom floor and nicely complimented the vintage Honda CB750 sitting beside it.
There were a few lesser-known makes hovering around, like this old Velocette. Some of the members had little flea market setups in their camp space and there were some good bargains to be had on old parts.
I saw a guy ride by on an old Kawasaki two-stroke, turns out he has a whole collection of them - one of each size. If you like old Kawi smokers, this guy would have been your Mecca.
This neat old triumph trials bike caught my eye as it puttered past me, so I followed it to the events tent area for a closer look and a picture. That's the owner and his wife in the background and they, like so many others today, were very curious about Hector. We spent a few minutes talking about him and I never did get to ask any questions about his bike.
Throughout the day Cam and I played Ural Ambassador, running out of brochures long before we left. We were surprised at how many people knew about the Ural, even though ours were the first examples they'd seen up close. I even played chauffeur to the wife of a guy who really wanted to buy one but was unsure of his wife would approve. Took her for a short spin on Cam's bike and her hubby got the official nod of approval to get one - but he has to buy her a camper trailer first. Then I got to be Hero For A Day when a Dad approached me with his shy 6yr old daughter and asked if I could do her a huge favour by taking her for a ride in the sidecar. Turns out the lady I had given a ride to was a friend of theirs and the little girl had tears in her eyes because she didn't get to go, too. So we toodled around the campground and she was all smiles and waves to the onlookers, who made her day by smiling and waving back. Oh, and Hector was the center of attention, too, as usual. I brought along his special ball with the bell inside of it and we spent some time playing fetch out in the open field. It had the effect of attracting a few people out for a closer look, including one rather attractive French lady who just could not believe how well adjusted Hector was to his disability. She insisted on throwing the ball for him, cooing and oohing and aahhing at his amazing skill.
Eventually, Cam and I had enough of all the UDF and HDF and saddled up for the ride home. We took turns leading on the way back and eventually went our separate ways. I took the usual scenic back roads home, stopping long enough for the obligatory pee break and photo op along the way. We all had such a great time today that I'll be returning for next year's event - hopefully with a few more CURDites in tow!

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