I grabbed some brunch at the "Forget Me Not" tea room on the south side of town. British generic tea is really starting to grow on me, very satisfying. The tea room had a large selection of brunch food options one of which stood out as a bit peculiar, a grated cheese and carrot sandwich on white bread. A little weird sounding.
Anyways, 12:00pm rolled around pretty quickly and I rode over to the Kensington Army Drill Hall where the registration and scrutineering session was supposed to be taking place. Roger wasn't there yet so I hung around and admired the vintage race cars as they came and went. The drivers and race officials were quite converstaional in gearhead fashion and I soon became embroiled in Kiwi race car banter.
I learned among other things that New Zealand has one of the highest Ferrari to citizens per capita in the world, Dunedin was settled by the scottish, lots of famous professional race cars end up here because after racing for a year or two around the world it's cheaper to leave them in New Zealand or Australia after a Tasman race series or some such thing than ship them back to England or europe, the Dunedin street race has a long history and has been raced by many of the racing legends: Stirling Moss, John McClaren, etc., New Zealand hasn't always been metric, it used to use miles, inches, pounds, etc. One of the race officials I met has 23 motorcycles in his garage including 15 Montesas', 2 Bultacos, an early 70s Yamaha race bike still in its crate with all the included spares and has never been raced or assembled, and some old trials bikes. Pretty funny guy. He started our conversation with a few jokes:
M: How'd you lose your leg?
M: How'd you lose your hand?
M: So how'd you lose your eye?
M: And that made you blind in that eye?
A bunch of chaps are down at the pub and the bartender gets up on the bar and shouts "Whoever can think up the best toast over a beer gets free beer for the week." So after a couple of the men say there part, Jim gets up and says "I'd like to spend the rest of my life between the legs of my wife." Everyone shouts "Here here," and the bar tender announces "That was a great toast Jim, you've won free beer for the rest of the week!"
Well, Jim walks home all smug and happy thinking of how great it is that he won free beer for the week. He walks in the front door smiling ear to ear and his wife asks "Jim, what are you so happy about?"
"Well honey, I was just down at the pub and I won free beers for the rest of the week by making up the best toast of all the chaps there."
"So Jim, what was this toast that was so great?" his wife asks.
"Ahh yes, what was it... I can't quite remember. Oh yes, I've got it: I'd like to spend the rest of my life at church with my wife."
"Oh Jim, that's an excellent toast. Good work." says his wife.
The next day one of Jim's mate sees Jim's wife and asks her with a snicker "did you hear the toast that Jim won a weeks worth of free beer with?"
Jim's wife says "Why yes I did, but I can't quite figure out why he'd use that as his toast. He's only done that twice ... the first time he fell asleep, and the second time I had to pull him by the ear to make him come."
He had a gazillion stories to tell me about all his New Zealand experiences racing and otherwise. After talking about our trips for a while, I followed him up to his B&B and helped him do a little prep for the hill climb the next morning. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough space to accomodate a cot for me so I had to go back to the Top 10 Holiday Park and plant my tent for a couple more nights.