I am Spartacus!

For those of you who are involved in motorcycling, either as a hobby, or as part of a group or organisation, you may have attended a Bikers' Rally.

One particular organisation which I was associated with a few years ago, has a rally season and over the summer each year, holds these events.  Typically in a field where provisions such as portaloos, burgervans, marquees for entertainment or just to sit and talk -  and stalls to sell whatever tat is fashionable or even useful – are all available for the benefit of the bikers and their families.

At these events, the biker – i.e. person who rides a motorcycle and – as someone once told me – lives the lifestyle – arrives with his tent, change of underwear, camping kit (stove, tea/coffee, sugar and a cup) and whatever else is required for two or three days.

These rallies are generally held over a long weekend, but in any case, most of the bikers start arriving on a Friday afternoon and well into the night.  Campfires are arranged and the booze starts to flow.

Most of the people attending these rallies are getting on in age – the average attendee would be more likely in his/her mid fifties.  So the type of entertainment is focussed on what people of their age want.  The bands are the sort that are loud and most playing music from Nirvana, Rolling Stones, the Who, Steppenwolf – Born to be Wild…. AC/DC - Highway to Hell and so on.  Although occasionally the beat may alter - adding punk or even reggae...

If any of you out there has had the fortune to take part in one of these rallies – especially those organised by my good friend Pete, you will be aware of what has become an established part of the entertainment (?)

Usually at around 1 a.m. or even 2 a.m. when most of the campers are in their tents – happy and very drunk, without fail, a call can be heard.

“I am Spartacus!”

This is then followed by echoes of the same call and throughout the campsite, repeats of “I am Spartacus!” continue until somebody finally shouts – “Shut the F*ck up!”   Silence descends over the campsite – except perhaps one final feeble “I am Spartacus” followed by ripples of laughter…

 What is the attraction?  Is it the company, the need to be amongst like-minded people, boredom? What is it that brings a bunch of “hairy-arsed” bikers together?

About 5 years ago, I was at one such rally and sat down with a friend, it was the last conversation I had with Fergus O’Connell. He died a few months later.

As I approached, Fergus thrust a glass in my hand and asked “what do you think this is?”  I replied “it’s cherry!” and he replied – “Yes!  My own special brew!” and that led us into a conversation about the merits of fermenting different types of fruit into tasty alcoholic drinks.  We talked some more and when we parted, his face broke into a big cheesy grin and he walked off laughing.

Back in 2005 after the tragic death of Simon Milward, I met Fergus at Simon’s memorial service.   We talked about a lot of things but his final comment sums up the man – a true biker in every sense of the word.

"What it (biking) is ultimately about is simple - it’s fun.  There is no greater element in life more important than fun and biking is fun.  I was riding down this avenue last night coming here and it was lined with these trees with silvery green leaves, there were all these dark shadows on the road with these silvery  leaves and I was riding along with the wind and the leaves were moving – they are moments you can’t buy.   Life is fun.  To paraphrase David Niven, life is not a rehearsal."

 Fergus IS Spartacus – never to be forgotten.

Elaine Hardy PhD