The Moto Guzzi club has, as you’d expect, a majority of twin cylinder owners in its ranks. However, there is a small but committed number of members who also ride the single cylinder machines that the company produced, in capacities from 50cc to 500cc. Each year, in mid July, the Moto Guzzi club holds a single cylinder rally at the Compass Inn near Tormarton, just off Junction 18 of the M4. All single cylinder machines are welcome, be they old, new, Italian or japanese, and the event is one of the most enjoyable get togethers of the single cylinder calender.

I first visited this meeting two years ago and regretted only turning up for the Sunday rideout. Last year Jethro and I rode over on Saturday morning and had a very enjoyable two days, spent, it has to be said, mostly in the bar. This year we decided that we should get there on the Friday night. to experience the full flacour of the meeting. Friday evening saw us turning up at the pleasant camping field (more of a large lawn) at the rear of the pub, only to find a line-up of little red Guzzis and no people. We correctly surmised that Colin Hutton and his entourage had beaten us to the pub. As it was getting late, and we were scared of the dark, we thought that we’d be safer in the pub too. Several hours and some beers later we retired for the night under a clear starry sky which promised a sunny start on the morrow.

Saturday dawned bright and clear, which is not how I’d describe Jethro’s appearance as he struggled through the fog of a hangover to set up his cooker and boil some water for coffee. As we sipped our brews the number of bikes increased until there was a solid line of red Italian thumpers parked across the middle of the field.

Colin Hutton, who organises the meeting, had brought his neat little 125cc Stornello, and his his outragous three wheel van which features the legend: ‘Colin Hutton, Carpenter. New York, Paris, Rome, Didcot Ash, but mostly Didcot Ash”. Amongst the Guzzis sat some lovely Ducatis, including a 450 street scrambler and a very tasty track tool.

The edge of the field also filled up with tents as riders on all sorts of machinery arrived for the weekend. Soon we were joined by the TC membership supremo, Colin Hilliard, on his BMW F650. Then Simon Morgan arrived on his DR650, followed by Richard Frost (BMW F650) James (XT600), Tim Heming (SR 250), Bob Cannon (FT 500) and Ron Spellward (XLR 125). All in all it was a good club turnout.

The afternoon was sunny enough to cause us to retire to the pub to avoid sunburn. Once the temperature had dropped to a safe level we returned a little shakily to the field and had a good poke around the machinery parked there. James showed us the subtle modifications that he’d made to his XT600: he’s added an extra bash plate to the lower front downtube ( I think to protect the drain plug, but I can’t remember) and he has cunningly added offcuts from the soles of a pair of army boots to his metal footpegs to improve their comfort level. This may sound wacky but in fact you’d be hard pressed to spot that it was anything other than a factory fitting.

Tim’s SR is shockingly small and spartan. The saddle is very abbreviated and you can see plenty of fresh air through the frame. Frankly, how he rode it to Scotland and most of the way back is beyond me... and I’ve ridden a CG125 from South Wales to York and back.

During the afternoon a certain young lady by the name of Rose had made herself at home in Colin Hutton’s three-wheeler. Jethro couldn’t take his eyes off her, clad as she was in skimpy knickers and a tight top. Three times he ambled over before plucking up the courage to ask her if she’d like a drink, only to return crestfallen, declaring, “She’s stuck up, she didn’t even reply.”
“But Jethro,” I replied, “it’s a blow up doll.”
Apparently Rose is a Moto Guzzi club mascot that has been doing the rounds of shows, popping up in various embarrassing poses. Colin Hutton had another prank up his sleeve: when one chap turned up on his nice little XT250, he found a fake tombstone planted on his camping spot, with his bike’s details on it. It was a well-deserved revenge for a previous prank played on Colin.

One of the traditions of this meeting is that there is a whip round on Saturday afternoon and some volunteers head off to the nearest superstore to buy the ingredients for the evening’s monster BBQ. Although this isn’t exactly mine and Jethro’s favourite kind of food (free) it is close enough, and we behaved like bloatd fat-bellied porkers. After eating far too much it got cold enough to prompt us to go inside to the bar, just in case we got hypothermia.

Ater some minutes in the bar, Jethro turned to us and said, “ have I died and gone to heaven?”. Or at least that’s what I think he said, but he was dribbling so much it was hard to tell. This was prompted by the fact that the bar was full of girls in their late teens; it turned out that there was an 18th birthday party going on. None of these girls paid any attention to the group of sad middle-aged bikers sat in the corner (ahem, that’s us then), but when youngster James ventured out to see how the party was going he was told that he could stay... grrrrr. You’ll be pleased to hear that none of this distracted us from the serious business of taking the piss out of each other’s bikes, and one bearded Guzzi owner even came to help us poke fun at German motorcycles.

11.00pm came and went, but as it was still dark we thought it would be wise to stay in the nice warm bar, just in case any of the little popseys were too scared too walk home alone. Needless to say, this didn’t happen, but we did have a splendid time discussing disparate issues like the Euro, and why modern motorcyles are crap (er... but why are they so reliable then?).

I have no idea what time we eventually wandered back to the tents, but I do know that Simon and I made the trip via the remains of the BBQ. I still chuckle when I remember the glee with which Simon anounced, “I’ve found the burgers... and some tomato sauce.” and I replied, “Woohoo, and I’ve found some bread rolls, this is FANTASTIC.” Simple pleasures eh? Of course we thought this conversation had been carried out sotto voice, but the following morning we were told by many, many people that we had in fact been bellowing at the tops of our lungs. After adding to our indigestion by drinking neat spirits and more beer, we turned in for a quick four hours of my favourite game: ‘ snore-like-an-asthmatic-hippo-but-louder’.

At bike rallies there is always one person who decides that 7.00am is the perfect time to start their bike. Annoyingly, it’s also always the sort of person who thinks it’s a good idea to leave the bike running whilst they take down their tent, wash their tent pegs, lazily wander off to clean their teeth, return to load their bike and then have a ten-minute chat to a fellow insomniac before finally exiting the rally field by wheelspinning across it at 6,000rpm in first gear. My basic laziness means that I will never be the first person up at a rally... but it also means that I can’t be bothered to get out of my tent, retrieve a lump hammer from the well of the sidecar and smash the miscreant’s crankcases before returning (I’d guess) to a hero’s welcome from fellow campers and another hour of uninterrupted shuteye. No, instead of this pleasant scenario I always find myself cursing the bugger and trying (always) unsuccessfully to get back to sleep. This Sunday was no exception as a variety of cackling Guzzi mini-thumpers kept on interrupting a particurly pleasant dream in which Claudia Schiffer was wearing Rose’s skimpy pants... and that’s all I’m going to say on that subject.

Once up and about we set to making breakfast and coffee as loads more bikes arrived. As usual at this meeting, some of the more interesting kit turned up in the car park, including a shabby Panther-engined Featherbed Norton. Yes, I did say Panther. This bloke had chopped out the Featherbed’s front downtubes and lower cradle, and reinstated the stiffness with some Seeley-style struts from the swing arm pivot to the headstock. The engine was left dangling out front in traditional Panther fashion. Bloody marvellous it was, and the owner made my day when he declared that he’d only built it to clear some scrap out of his garage. A pristine Aprillia Moto 6.5 turned up, as well as a very tasty BMW boxer cafe racer.

In the lineup on the field, some modern thumpers, like a pretty Gilera Nordwest, sat alongside some real gems like the cleanest Moto Parilla that I’ve ever seen. A very shiny Velo Thruxton represented the traditional British sporting single, whereas an army-spec Falcone with its massive external flywheel demonstrated that thumpers can also be robust go-anywhere vehicles. All of the owners were friendly and happy to chat, and once again the rally lived up to its reputation as an easy-going meeting for real enthusiasts.

Late in the morning the bikes were started for is short as it caters mainly for thumpers under 250cc, although it does feature a fantastic pub lunch stop. Instead, we were happy to take our time before packing up and heading home. We were nearly ready to leave when we realised that we were probably a little dehydrated from the night before, so we headed off to the bar for another drink, just in case. You know it’s better to be safe than sorry.

The 2003 Guzzi Club Singles meeting is being held on the weekend of 13th-14th of July. Although it has always been free to attend, next year may see the introduction of a small fee for camping. Whatever the cost, it’s a great event that the Thumper Club is happy to support. At next year’s meeting we will be arranging our own informal rideout on the Saturday afternoon. it would be great to see you there.

Graham Carrick