With respect to absent friends



Memorial Run 2015
Ambleside, Rydal Water and Patterdale, June 13 2015
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Memorial Run 2011
Ambleside, Rydal Water and Ribblehead, October 22 2011
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Memorial Run 2007
Ambleside, Rydal Water and Ribblehead, June 2 - 3 2007
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Joan
Passed 13 January 2011

Joan

She flies with our Thunderbird, eternally

I will certainly never forget the days surrounding Joan's funeral, but what I will always remember, is the Christmas Party in 2006, at The Old Weatherstation in Wales. During which one of our now ex-members - Ian - decided he wanted to squeeze his not insubstantial height into a small domestic appliance. A tumble drier. Everyone present was pissing themselves laughing at the surreal situation, except Joan. She took exception to Ian's stupidity and proceeded to shout at him. And shout some more. Andy Kat somehow also became embroiled it the situation. Despite her diminuitive height, such was Joan's huge personality, that she bollocked the pair of them, good and proper. See the picture below:

bollocking

Now THAT'S how I'll remember Joan.

Wigan Paul

A family member, Zoe, sang at Joan's funeral service. Here are the words to the song she changed especially for Joan.



Gorgeous George

Gorgeous George



Keith

Keith

Our thoughts are with Sue, family & friends. Keith aged only 37 is on possibly the ultimate journey. Ride Free.

Keith was one of the Barrow crew and although many of the club never met him, for me he was what I would call a real biker. I'm glad to be able to call him "mate". He left us to prospect for the Devil's Disciples, Cumbria. He left them after a few weeks and was possibly rejoining us, but died suddenly and far too early.
Naz



Scot

Scot

Didn't know him all that well, probably only met him a dozen or so times, but somehow it seems a lot more. He was that sort of guy, as soon as he walked into a room you knew he was there, you could say he was the boisterous sort. It was a shock when he died, but I suppose living his lifestyle it was a disaster waiting to happen.
Naz


First time I met Scot was with the rest of the Sally lot at Childy's (Mark Child) wedding, back in the dim and distant past...he was a big, friendly guy who promptly invited us to Ambleside, telling us that we could camp in his mam 'n' dads back yard...what he forgot to mention was they owned a cafe and the back yard was just that...a yard...not a blade of grass to be seen!!!!!!
Tracey


Scot was like a force of nature. I'd been away from the club for a year or so, riding with the National Chopper Club, and I came back to Ambleside for a club wedding. I met some of the guys beforehand and was introduced to Scot who was then fairly new to the club, we hit it off and were firm friends within a very short time. He wasn't conventionally handsome but had a gift with the girls and was a first rate flirt with rough charm and a wicked sense of humour, these traits often rewarded him with a black eye. His parents, Ann and Bill, ran a cafe in Ambleside and I'd often be invited to stay over. Great people! Scot would work in the cafe on a Saturday morning, usually hung over from the night before and myself and a lad known as Rabbit would usually be crashed out in the attic room. I remember coming up with a cunning wind-up plan one morning whilst Scot was working downstairs, Rabbit and I opened up one of the attic Windows and leaning out we started to shout "abuse" at passers by, nothing more, just that one word "abuse". Well after a few minutes an old lady walking below went into the cafe and told Scot about the two lads hanging out of his window shouting abuse, he raised an eyebrow and asked what we were shouting? "Abuse" she says. "Yes, but what specifically are they shouting?" He says with a bad head. "Abuse" she says... It went on like that for some minutes much to Scots annoyance.

He taught me a great game when drunk at a party one night; "sit on the floor, cross legged with your knees touching mine," he said. I did so and we sat there opposite one another, two bikers in a room full of strangers. "Now slap me," he said. I was a little wary, he was bigger and stronger than I. But after reassurances I slapped him across the face. He returned the blow. "Again," he said chuckling roughly. So I slapped him again a little harder. Then it was his turn. He poked me in the eyes! I rocked backwards in pain holding my hands over my eyes, he burst out laughing, "have I won?" He said, or something like that. I thought about it for a moment but kept my legs crossed so as not to be disqualified. Then I rocked myself back up and punched him squarely on the nose, hard enough to send him backwards. The room fell silent. He kept his legs crossed and I knew then I had to follow it up or the next one would finish me, so I pulled out a cigarette paper, licked it and with knees still crossed quickly stuck it to his left eyebrow and lit it. I heard a sharp intake of breath from onlookers and the smell of burned hair filled the room. I think he knew then that his next move had to take it much further and like a gentleman he conceded, much to my relief. In his own way he was a real gentleman, he looked after folk, he was always there for a friend. He helped his parents run the local Scouts group . He was a 'salt of the earth' type. It's been a number of years since he tragically passed away and I miss him every day. Sometimes he visits me in a dream, he'll just be sat there at the end of the table grinning at me, waiting for me to see him, as if to say hello mate I've come to see how you're doing, I greet him with a big hug and wake up with wet eyes.
RIP AND RIDE FREE FRIEND AND BROTHER! X

Mitch



Obnoxious Jon

Obnoxious Jon

I remember the first time I ever met Obnoxious, I'd been forewarned of what he was like and sure enough he didn't disappoint me. He said a couple of things and then said "you an me will have to have a deep and meaningful talk one day", I replied "we just did". That threw him for a while and then he roared with laughter and we were mates from then on. I won't tell you about the coleslaw and the girls 18th birthday incident. What can I say about him, except he was well named, but if you ever got him in a quiet corner, very intelligent and a caring sort. When I heard of his accident I was gobsmacked, we all were.

Still wanted for sheep rustling in Cumbria
Naz


Jon was another force of nature in my life. I first saw him tall and skinny with dreadlocks, covered in mud and wrestling passers by at a bike rally on Bootle fell in West Cumbria. It was like a scene from the Schwarzenegger film Predator, but with fewer muscles. We were only 21. We found out later that our birthdays were only a few days apart. At first we were wary of each other, we both fancied the same women and we both carried emotional scars, I was suffering from PTSD and Jon seemed messed up for a variety of reasons we never really figured out. Jon was notorious for his beer kisses, basically when asked what a beer kiss was, or why they called him obnoxious he would just spit a big mouthful of beer in your face...then one of the rest of us would try to break the tension. It was a tricky way to make friends. Those were difficult days for both of us and we found solace in each other's company. We drifted apart some years later when I got married, my wife didn't like him, and then he died doing what he loved, riding a motorbike. It was a tragic loss of life. He had started to pull his life together, settled down with a kind woman who revelled in his crazy weirdness, put many of his wrongs right and started a family. He took Scot's death on his shoulders and organised the funeral, then shortly after he too was gone. I wish so much that he was still with us. I made a terrible mistake in allowing another persons feelings about him to influence my own. She wasn't worth it, Jon! I miss you buddy, so much. You will forever be in my heart to remind me of my failings and you will always be my brother from another mother.
SHINE ON YOU CRAZY DIAMOND! SHOOT THE MOON! X
Mitch