Night of the Living Rednecks

As you could probably work out from the photos in the previous post, we've finished picking. Because we are in Australia and therefore adhere to Australian culture and customs, we celebrated the end of the harvest with a deeply spiritual activity consisting of heavy consumption of intoxicating liquids and ingesting pieces of charred, dead animals. So Thursday wasn't the most productive twenty four hours in the history of cotton farming.
So, Easter.
So, Roma.
The Young Bloke and I stayed at a motel and got drunk a lot. I am nothing if not cultured. Being Good Friday, no beeratoriums were operating when we got there, but a pub disco/ nightclub thingy did open at midnight. Did you know that women in nightclubs just aren't as pretty when you are sober? For those keeping score, it was a nil all draw, although the Young Bloke had better stats with two phone numbers to my one. I think I'm past my peak.
Next day was a bit hectic. Brekky down the street, clothes shopping (no, we're not a couple)( actually a young chicky babe in one of the clothes shops arranged to meet me that night. Pissed the Young Bloke off. I missed the meet. I really am past my peak.) and goat racing.
For reasons I don't know, Roma has an Easter In The Country festival every year. At Easter. For reasons I have even less of an idea about, this includes goat races up the main street. I don't take good pictures with a hangover, but even if I was straight out of the health spa (I'm so going to go to one of those things one day. Pampering suits me.) I don't think that I could make it exciting. Moderately amususing for a little while, but...meh.
So after the goat races, we went back to the motel, dumped the stuff we'd bought and went to something Easter-y that will resonate with Christians everywhere - went to the Mud Bash. These things are institutions throughout rural New South Wales and Queensland. They seem to be more popular in cotton growing areas. Dunno why. Essentially what it involves is two vehicles, which bear a vague resemblance to motor cars, racing on separate tracks through a bunch of mudholes. Spending money, or using competent tradesmen is tolerated but not encouraged. They had a bar there. Guess where the photo was taken from? As you can tell from the hats in the foreground, the majority of the audience were My People. Some kids came around selling raffle tickets. Dunno who it was in aid of, not too sure what the prize was, either, but the Young Bloke and I bought a few tickets and off they went. Five minutes later they were back, with a Mum. Apparently you're not allowed to let them keep the change.
After the mud bash, we kept our necks red at the speedway. Sad to say that the speedway didn't have bikes and pretty much sucked. So it was back to town and a couple of very noisy pubs. Nil all draw again, without even a phone number. I need a life coach. Next morning I went and had a very pleasant breakfast, while the Young Bloke cultured his hangover. After he had recovered sufficiently, we headed for the drags. Ironbark raceway is only an eigth mile track, so they don't have the really fast boys, but they had a few altereds and suchlike, with a shitload of hotty street cars.This was the car that interested me the most. Not exciting to watch race, it was a pretty cool little jigger to have a closer look at. It's called a Junior Dragster. Like the name implies, it's a kiddie car, for ten to sixteen year olds. The engine is a replica of a 5.5hp Briggs and Stratton lawnmower engine. It's made by a mob called McGee who used to be based in Sinny, but are now in the States. Last I heard of them was about twenty years ago when they were making 511 cubic inch Top Fuel engines. This thing is still a 3"x3" sidevalver, but with an alloy rod, roller bearings, turbocharger and nitrous oxide injection and makes about 28hp. I love the pointlessness of it.They had a few bikes there, too. Mostly road bikes, but a couple of proper drag Harleys, on old 750 Honda drag bike, and this. It's handbuilt from the ground up. It's the loudest thing I've heard in a long time. They didn't have the best day on the track. They only had one good run, which was on the back wheel for the full length of the track. At the end of proceedings, there was a bit of a presentation thingy where people were given trophies for stuff. After the presentation was over the real crowd pleaser was conducted, the burnout competition. More of an Urban thing that a bush one, the kiddies put on a pretty good show.
Well, I liked it.
This girl won it. That's right misogynists, the blokes were out-testeroned by a breast bearer.

After the burnout comp, it was back to town, junkfood for tea, and a few beers at the Irish pub. At least, I had a few beers. The Young Bloke couldn't back up and didn't have a beer all day. Bloody kids, what's the world coming to?

Next morning we hit the road, stopping only for groceries.

I'm knackered.