toy run

Sunday 7 Dec '25:

Today I rode my Himmy on the Annual Newcastle Ride for Kids Toy Run. Apart from the thousands of other riders & pillions, I was really pleased to see Joe scoot past on the way down.  He'd been fighting fires overnight. Little did I know that his boss was a keen rider (he has a Shadow 750 like mine) & arranged to make it to the TR with Joe, so they apparently put themselves on "stand bye mode" & drank a lot. Anyway, I knew Joe would make it if he could because he wanted to show pride in  his new Honda 650. Its unique to this event that your day, well just before ,& durong the depart, becomes an annual snapshot of your life. One year I rode the Royal Enfield with Joe rode his Yamaha 150 on a Learner's permit. The next year he rode the Royal & I rode my chopped Honda. And so on. 

  

After rumming over the bridge & seeing the roadside crowd gathering, we parked up at Stockton by the harbour. The weather conditions were pretty bad, a gusty SE with the threat of rain. Thankfully God smiled & we all got home dry.  Good luck for almost everyone, but for the rider down at Hexham. His Fatboy looked like it was parked up & he was laying under a sheet. I don't know, but suspect it was more of a medical issue than an accident, & wished him well. 

The organisers encourage riders to arrive two hours early, & many do. To see some of the decorations on many of the rides is both hilarious & a bit heart rending. To see a Harley & rider coming down from an early life of hard living having covered their scooter in tinsel, baubles, large stuffed toys & santas, is amazing. Or tiny Honda 50s with the rider decked out as a Xmas present & literally a Xmas tree with presents mounted on the rear, defies logic & my imagination. Clearly these people see a lot more on the annual Toy Run than I do, & I think very highly of it. Every year I rush to arrive & once underway I get affected by the hype & wish I'd made a better effort. Yes its the thought that counts, but the effort counts a lot more

I mostly go for the bike porn:   

the isual suspects are on show; Honda Groms & Postie bikes, grungy older cruisers, street racers, Harleys of all shapes & (this might be just me) this year, lots of Indians. I felt under done on my Himmy, but at least he was gleaming.  

The ride over was grand as usual & it never tires. The roadside all along the route is covered by families, lots of families & of course kids, (many survivors of disease & illness), there are appreciative parents, siblimgs, aunts & grandparents, people with special needs, bike & lovers of all motoring & just those drawn to the good clean fun. I saw one old guy in a 1960s Bedford truck, all shined up, just sitting on the cab watching the lunacy. You are usually too busy vying for safe space or ogling at nice bikes alongside, but a lot of these scenes could bring anyone to tears. One older rider, black vest, tatts & swagger, on the rear guard, a small "fuck cancer" sticker. There are stories literally everywhere you look. Some art arse would quip: "its not about the bikes, its about the people". And she'd be right. I'm sure for many individuals, they're there thinking "my life, or the last decade or year has been really fucked. But when I see, hear & feel this bike convoy, its helps me forget that shit & it gives me hope, or brings back memories of when life was better". 

I saw lots of older ladies on pairs, floral dress, sandals & signs of having had a hard life, but beaming, calling out & saying "thank you". A badass/lifelong biker slows & gives them a high five. There's magic in this event; people of goodwill power & its there for all to see. 

A colourful motorcycle small bore bike alongside makes me chuckle, he's loaded down with tinsel & toys with a bluetooth speaker blaring out the Bluey theme on repeat. The waves from young & old & general good cheer is uplifting. A middle awfed plus sized guy, has wedged himself into a red Xmas outfit, long white socks & fluoro orange shoes, shoots out from the curb. He's got a red P plate on the back & is a really bad rider

 But he is living out his plan. This is more Xmas than Xmas? 

At the park in Carrington Joe & I are quickly lost to each other. Nevertheless we park up tight & drop off our donations & have a brief look around. You know, the organisers put on a good show; live music, motorbike stands selling bikes for Xmas, food stalls & free camels rides, but really after the Run the whole planet seems dull. 

I catch Joe & we head out to the bikes area to look around. 

 I have a current soft spot for the Indian Scout & in person find they are quite low to the ground (the engine is a stressed member), & I wonder about off ground clearance on my driveway. I rekindled my affection for the Harley FLSTC. A long & low dresser, a ball of character, grunt & comfort. 

The owner arrived  as we admiring a top of the line Indian Chief. It was my preferred colour for this bike, cream & pale green with stacks of gleaming chrome & a shitload of tan leather (seat, tank bib, panniers, frills at the rear of the guards & even the boards). The owner was my age & weight & was happy to modestly discuss his "love"* of the bike, how he rode it "every month" & spent time detailing it.  Brilliant! But as he talked about the various details I realised it was not just bike love. To describe the relationship between a rider with a troubled past, too many tattoos, a well patched vest & way too much bike knowledge  as "love" is an  understatement. The guy fucken lives the bike, nearly his every waking thought is about the bike. I pushed him on whether he kept her inside & was told that he didn't because his flat was rented of too small, but that he kept it at his girlfriends flat about 30k from his home. He quietly confided that he went there every Saturday night to spend time detailing his bike & to drink a few rums. I got a picture of a guy who had an impoverished childhood, who struggled at school & fell onto biker life (drugs, loud music & possibly prison) & after years of learning through doing had made his life an art form. What a rich guy? 

Life as art. 

a Bullet & just a few other of the 2000 bikes.