Some time ago I learned that things happen when you're really willing to fight for that to happen. So I'm used to pursue my dreams instead of letting it crumble between daily dose of shit work and social routine. And what does this have to do with the "Ride", you say the puzzled readers of these lines to check desolate that I devote myself to express thoughts egópatas instead of to the point. It has to do everything: When a person (say to a guy like me) feel a huge emotional attachment to an era of the past and lost in the mists of time (I always love this expression ... the dawn of time ... huuyyhhuuyyhhuuyy ...) has two options: either you get your whole fucking life looking at pictures and listening to music, which are also bad choices, or you intend to do something to try to rescue the past all or part of what you love. Or chase your dream or this ends up vanishing.
So get to work ... there will be some other crazy in Spain that feel the same? I wondered many times. Yes, yes, there are rockers with good machines out there loose, there's no doubt, but will willing to concentrate on a point of Spain and Malaga only by the fact that the convening of a stranger?. He had a superb base, my friend Yela, with whom I can count on for everything (especially if you have to do with rock & roll) and Jose Antonio Webunder rocker lifelong Malaga, coworker and triumphero "at the bonnes "who are enthusiastic about the project from minute one. But ... who will come?, I wondered Yela. For rockers, of course, I said.
whole idea was hatched about a comment in the forum "Cafe Racer" the website "Unofficial Club Triumph" in which commented on the possibility of a british style Quedada rockin. Each brought his idea, until my nose swelled up enough to fix a place and time where I would expect those who want to come to me a pint. from a point very far from my house, a rocker told me I WILL BE THERE WITH YOU. Since that time the "Ride with the Rockers" was born.
Several months of work and waiting ended in a splendid April afternoon in which my inseparable Jose Yela and accompanied me on the backs of their irons to the meeting place. There appeared nervous hope someone about a decent English steel, sheathed in leather and hiding his eyes behind glasses pilot. There appeared no God.
Thank heaven help technology foresight rockers and soon contacted three good birds that came by cutting the edge of the Mediterranean as if to find the place where they make waves. Alex del Toro and Marian, along with another personajete contacted us to say they were already around the corner, so we went to meet him in the hope that the other attendees (if there were any) would follow the same procedure. So we find these three initiatives, at a nearby restaurant, in this land hard drugs offers, namely, the fried fish and the sun. You could guess at their faces every kilometer, not by fatigue but by the enthusiasm they expressed. Two beers later, our friend Diego T-100, was located next to RockinRaul and Sarah who had just arrived from Almeria in his new Thruxton. After a few minutes they were with us presenting us with your comments and smiles. Just minutes after the call of Johnny Madrid, caused me to rush the third beer and a shot.
I do not taper to Johnny, so I went to meet him in the hope of recognizing someone for the sake of driving a Bonnie. Fuck my skull!, QUAD saw this guy I dropped the sticks of the sunshade. This is a rate of six or seven feet tall, clad in leather riding a scrotumtightening Triumph Bonneville T-100 in gold and black. I thought "this guy must have left the Leroy Merlin dry when he went to find the studs for sucks", because it takes several million of them outlining the most scrotumtightening leather jacket I've seen in over twenty years of rock & roll. The fact is that it recruited for the cause in less than a rooster sings "Long Tall Sally" and join this group. Packman calls me and says he is looking at the buxom absorbed from the top of the column and therefore does not end on target, so go for it.
The last time I saw Paco (Packman) was at a gas station in Motril (Granada) on the day we returned from the Triton 2007, held in Almeria. The two we were sharing fatigue, road and wind until Paco Juan Flores, due to the increased number of miles that remained to be done, we decided to leave to avoid wind whipping us deep into the interior. That was the last time you track it and was the last fucking time the two saw John, since this would be killed months later without, for one thing or another, we find each other again. I thought I saw in the eyes of Paco this story when I crossed eyes with him for the first time at the foot of the monument to the tourist. Also when I thought we hugged feel. I did not raise the issue so early but fell of its own weight. Then we talked about John and drank to his memory.
Beer is what was needed ... by industrial quantities ... so look for the rock that it was in a bar. There were, besides the rock than I expected, Tony Rocket and Jose who came from Granada. Tony, highlighted by a beautiful lead sucks adorned with the symbol of BRMC Brando and Bonnie have a brand new T-100 black and red. The group began to be breathtaking.
A Bonneville Black, three T-100, a Thrux., A BMW R-45, a cafe Legend Thunderbird and two racers were "ready to rumble" in the hotel when we had a few minutes to talk a foreigner who told us (between proud and perplexed to see us in such wise), which had belonged to the 59 club in the sixties. The guy looked at us puzzled, smiled and admired. I thought I saw a bit of nostalgia in the way they look at our machines and our jackets. Who knows what ghosts appeared in his mind at that time.
Giving the conversation turns to London, sixties, sixties, Smithys undertake road, waiting for us there and there came up with English timeliness, ie, an hour later. Alora Paco waiting for us there with his T-100, along with Micky. Arrival: cool, welcome: best, dinner, brutal, drunken, monumental. What else have ... you know how those nights where ends become sore from laughing face, and head to drink. We were accompanied at all times Merche, Johnny's wife with her sister and brother. Also Isa and Elvis (yes, yes, of Tupelo, Mississipy) and a colleague of Tony who came from Granada sharing both the decoration of their suck. No never forgive him not to approach the Ride with one of his Guzzis. Maybe next year will redeem this sin.
And between one thing and another, I got up on Saturday with a headache of seven pairs of balls, relentlessly bombed in my subconscious resacaquil by the echoes of the previous night. Especially for "My Little Sister Has got a Motorbyke" of Cavan and the mocking giggles one of the assistants whose face is represented reproaching me that there was no nymphomaniac, or as he said to Yela that he would buy a house Malaga only to screw life. Damn hangover ... I got rid of that character until days later.
The first thing I remember the Sabbath is a wonderful comment in praise of our machines that issued Paco Alora to say. "How beautiful are the Harringon Harry!" Before that I remember almost nothing, or how I got to Smithys from home ... or how I put on pants to fix the bike instead of a decent ... not my fuckin nation .. the fact is that there were willing to take a turn vacilona tourist, everyone on your machine in the area of \u200b\u200bBenalmadena Fuengirola. We went in order and harmony in order to meet both of the two tasks of the route, ie tourism and vacileo. As my tourism leaves me cold, because I devoted myself to the other thing that makes me hot (do not know what is worse ...). Pacá bikes, motorcycles pall, we rulamos the entire coast and ended up in the Bobbie Peru trying to alleviate a hangover by fucking method that everyone says is the best but that is killing me. Yes, yes, that is to take you to another ... bitches ... I loaded a hangover at all.
HHHEEEYYYY Tracy .... call that comes along with Inma from Murcia busting his Thruxton to join the move. Yes, the poor worked the night before and had to come on Saturday. The only problem is that his twin pistons hitting came in the bottom of the tank and brands have been ... but otherwise ... no problems. Well ... we're all after.
So eat, we passed the Smithys before if anyone was left in place for another beer belly (which it turns out that there was room, where you look), all but T-Diego 100 and his cousin Miguel CB who went to the house of another colleague, Antonio "El Papi" in order to try to boot your veteran Bonnie seventy-three. At the end of the fucking started but could not bring in carburetion problems. A shame, but at least we have three who is so important. We also have from that time with Alfonso Joker, good friend and rocker for over 25 years. The kid has a sporter 1,200, but despite that flaw is a good person.
In the restaurant we met with some relatives, including my own, My sweet love, My Birdy, My Lola. Maika's wife also Yela and Rocker-Biker champion four months they have. The poor is a sweetie but has a drunk Godfather Rocker not sleep because he picks her up and start your Legend truck right next to you become familiar with the British three-cylinder, that the sooner the better.
Finally we put up the bars to eat and drink, and put my hands on his hips because you have to rest a bit ... masters, I say ... So long dead or the dead will be me. Every dog \u200b\u200blicks his ... until nine o'clock, time for dinner.
But ... we go to dinner ...? If you're tired of the lunch ... Yeah, yeah, that's what you say now. You will see how you change your mind when you plug trays fried fish and white shrimp in the bay of Malaga. Said and done, to have dinner at nine. The walk from Torroles to Malaga was quiet and smooth. Some carbon reproached me that we were a cafe racers of shit because we were very slow. Pussy and it was the same guy beating the night before ... Well, what are you going to do. Delicious dinner and light conversation and best friend again (the friendship and shrimp, what the hell). After the Classic Rock Cafe for a drink ... I do not know ... maybe some beers ...?.
But here is one of the highlights of the Ride, Al Paco Alora friend comes up to entertain our guests with an evening stroll through the center of Malaga. Said and done, we lined up the frames to the park, the source of the three graces, Main Mall, Mall Columbus ... The amazing night. The old buildings looked bright Malaga for the occasion. The Alcazaba and the Castle of Gibralfaro Gardens, Picasso ... everything looked different that day even for a Malagueño leading to their city stuck in their retinas. Now, now we were a real group of rockers performing a night ride through the streets of Malaga. Those streets that Vespino running in my twenty years ago when we went to Side Car Pub or Ammerican Graffitty. We could have flown on a magical journey to the Ace Cafe and come to your car without anyone there, we wonder. I will not have days to thank Paco idea. I enjoyed it as none of the rockers that rolled with me that night.
And now the Classic and all the shit, the rock ... the beer ... the bikes ... music ... music ...¿..? Damn that sounds weird Vincent, right? sounds like Led Zeppelin. Damn, do not put more than music Heavy, and everyone for Smithys fuck out that this is our preferred and antrum particular slum. And nothing ... again blind as the night before, what are you going to do if one is fond of mahou (sssiiiiiii. ... I like the MMMAAHHOOUU ...). He drank, laughed, talked and everything was relaxed until some began to think about the return trip. We had only two days together and goodbyes hurt me like I fleshed body. He could not say goodbye to those people who had accompanied me. Gradually they all left. The farewell was postponed until the next morning. I promised to go out for coffee with them before leaving, but fatigue and the emotions experienced (and spilled beers) I won the game.
knowing that the rock I came home via messages, calls and post in the forum of the club triumph. With friends at home was now time to take stock. The balance is these letters that I leave here. My memory of what happened, I lived and felt. You will always have a friend in Manchester that you will not forget. We have new appointments to see us, in Granada and Teruel, but do not forget that next year will be back in the rotunda of the monument for tourists in case a rocker wants to come and have a beer with me. please do not forget.
EPILOGUE
It turns out that on Monday morning I receive a phone call and again I hear that little voice ... if, if I bombed it during the aftermath of Friday, the accompanying personajete of Alex del Toro and Marian; The same voice that I complained that we were a cafe racers because they were running shit coming of Torroles and had not nymphomaniacs. It was the voice for a mix of Eddie Cochrand, Johnn Milner, Luis Sanchez Pollack and Jaime de Mora y Aragón. It was the voice of Prime Rocker told me "I WILL BE THERE WITH YOU." It was the voice of a friend. It was the voice of Antonio, (Ace Cafe). She thanked me for everything, the guy bud. No man, thank you.
And while we're with you, then give my deepest thanks to everyone who made this history. First of all attendees: Yela and Maika (Y Jose Manuel, of course) Jose (Webunder) and Eva, Ace Cafe, Alex and Marian, Raul and Sara, Tony and Joseph, Johnny and Mercy, The English Edwardian, Tracy and Inma, Paco, Paco Alora, Diego and Maguy, Miguel Cb and his wife, Monica, Joker, Antonio "El Papi", Bonnie Bockeron and his girl. Secondly Gary and Kay Smithys Rockin Retro Tiki Bar in Torremolinos, who have given us their warmth and know how to do things better. Couple Thanks a Lot!. Bobbie Peru that also behaved fucking. Pepe, the restaurant the Valley of the thorns that made us feel at home. A Pilgrim's seafood and even the Classic Rock Cafe. My friend Peter that I did the night shift on Friday, if not blind, I could not have put twice, but only one. A Micky to the poster gigs and supported us since it was hatched on the move and above all (no one is offended) by my Lola in my soul that understands me and loves me with all my faults and virtues, all my faults and virtues.
See you in the streets of every city. When we see, people shout: "The Rockers are back in town." "ROCKERS ARE BACK IN TOWN!"
