Silverstone MotoGP Meetup 2011

chopperman said:

I wonder how many other International forums there are out there that have evolved from meer cyber to actual reality like powerslide has. It's a very interesting social experiment that people from all over the world who are very different as people can meet and get on so well. Long may it continue .

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Arrabbiata1 said:

There is so much to say, and so many great people and events to acknowledge that collectively constituted this unforgettable weekend, and I will pay homage to it all over the next week. Unfortunately I've been a tad distracted tonight because I .... you not, half my conservatory has just collapsed!!!

I guess we partied too hard on Saturday night

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While waiting for this culinary delight to cook, I opened a tin o cider. Much to the disgust of the totally overequiped couple with the Audi estate nearby. The girl pointed me out to her husband and they shook thier heads dissaprovingly

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woke up needin a piss. It was still raining outside, so I decided to use a plastic pint glass inside the tent rather than walk to the toilet block. Carefully pausing to pour the contents out the door of my tent without being seen. After finishing I decided to leave the tent to strech my legs. Who is standing staring at me but that lovely couple from Friday morning, Mr and Mrs Disgusted of Dagenham! They did not look happy at all!

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chopperman said:

My ....... sides are hurting where i laughed so much

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Jumkie said:

My computer crashed!!!! It didn't survive the travel. Trying to retrieve data, I'm in a panic. I had 250 gigs of my life on that computer, only about 100 gigs backed up before I left. I don't know what I'll do if its all lost. Other than that, I'm still in a glow from this weekend.



Zombie back at work, not because I'm tired, but because my mind is still at Silverstone!



Ok, another Lesson. (Its a bit out of order, I'll post Lesson #3 later, here is...)



Lesson #4: Sometime, you just can’t avoid some crap. Under no circumstance should you buy a cheeseburger at the Silverstone track (Levi suggests the entire country). Well, it looked basic enough at the hamburger stand. Plus, the fries that came with the combo had already been approved with raving reviews (seriously the “chips” were fantastic, probably the best .... at the track). The mystery meat on the grill and the yellow cheese melting on top appeared familiar enough. The reason we were at that stand to begin with was because we were to meet BassPete there, who had become separated (as we all learned Pete has an uncanny talent for getting lost at the circuit, I use the word “lost” loosely, as it was just a matter of surveying the near bars, at which you had a 99% chance of finding him in line for a refill). So we’re behind the Becketts stands and we had just walked around ¾ of the circuit, which translates into about 10 miles (as we learned the day prior searching for the needle in the haystack, or as Brits like to call it, an ATM machine.) I had instructed Arrabi I wanted to be sure we had seen every angle and vantage point of the track known to man, which from one hopelessly addicted fan to another, this was greatly appreciated; but also made for a growling appetite. “I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries please.” I’ve said this sentence thousands of times in my lifetime, never with any memorable consequence. The oversized girl with a stupid looking white hat hands me the “chips” and cheeseburger. I pop a hand full of fries into my mouth, and I’m thinking, oh hell yeah, time to grub. I follow it up by the biggest bite I could summon on the cheeseburger. As the mystery meat starts to make my taste buds synapse, the message to my brain must have gone the opposite side of my brain of the fries message. Uhm, I protest to the boys sitting at the picnic table, “this isn’t very good”. I have an idea, so I pile on catch-up, both types of mustard, some brown .... in a bottle, and salt. Take another bite, again, damn, this doesn’t even taste like beef. I reluctantly polish off as much as I can stand from the burger, as I tried to overcome the hunger pains, we then made our way to the grandstands, as qualifying was about to start. We go up to Becketts bleachers, and what had been California looking day went artic cold. Wtf is up with the weather? We had sat under the cover in the stands, but I start to get the shakes. I’m thinking, geez, its cold, but my body shivering is a bit much. I convince the boys to move into the part of the stands where there was partial sunshine. But I’m still shivering, the taste in my mouth is foul, say, imagine you just ate road kill. My stomach starts to go whack. I start counting down the minutes to the end of qual. We go down the stairs and I tell the boys, “yo, wait here please, I need to make a toilet deposit.” .... me, the ten thousand people that came down from the stands are now in two big lines for the restroom. Think back to a time where you were in line (or as Brits like to say, “queue”) for the restroom, and you had to go real bad, its like your mind decides, ok, if you can hold it until you get to the front of the line, your brain then fires off the message to your colon, NOW is the time… RELEASE! Which means you have 3 more seconds to get the toilet stall. Well, I did everything possible to hold it, when I finally get inside the door, all I see is a big urinal trough! I start to visibly panic, holy ...., were are the shitters, the thought becomes a verbal outburst, I yell out, “Hey, were the .... are the shitters, the toilets??? …a dude looks at me and reply, “That’s the other line mate.” WTF! I push the dude behind me outta my way, I run to the other line; by that time my brain has already fired off its prescribed message: RELEASE! The other “queue” is still deep. I try my best to interrupt the involuntary sequence to my colon that my brain has been fooled into prematurely sending. .......! What seemed like an eternity, I finally get into the stall. I sat down, knowing damn well, the damage had been done. The bowel movement started with a bang. If you’ve ever wondered how .... gets on the backside of a toilet at a public restroom, I now know. Everything I ate the previous 15 hours went straight though like the MotoGP bikes at Hanger Straight, including that ....... hamburger. Oh man, and did it emanate the foulest stench which would have made skunks protest. I hadn’t had the guts to admit it, as I didn’t want to deal with the embarrassment at the time. (But oddly enough, the virtual world is a peculiar medium, as we debated this dynamic later on at Arabbi’s house, and which I will talk about later). Notwithstanding, I’ll reveal here, the boxers I had taken to the track in the morning…well they never returned. All my efforts to interrupt the message to ‘release’ were mostly successful, but not entirely. Somewhere in a Silverstone trash can is very soiled .... stained underwear. I tired my best, but sometimes, you just can’t avoid some crap. Be careful what you eat in a foreign country. (Btw, Gator had a similar lesson, on our way to the track race day, while sitting in traffic. I’ll have him tell it).

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Jumkie said:

My computer crashed!!!! It didn't survive the travel. Trying to retrieve data, I'm in a panic. I had 250 gigs of my life on that computer, only about 100 gigs backed up before I left. I don't know what I'll do if its all lost. Other than that, I'm still in a glow from this weekend.



Zombie back at work, not because I'm tired, but because my mind is still at Silverstone!



Ok, another Lesson. (Its a bit out of order, I'll post Lesson #3 later, here is...)



Lesson #4: Sometime, you just can’t avoid some crap. Under no circumstance should you buy a cheeseburger at the Silverstone track (Levi suggests the entire country). Well, it looked basic enough at the hamburger stand. Plus, the fries that came with the combo had already been approved with raving reviews (seriously the “chips” were fantastic, probably the best .... at the track). The mystery meat on the grill and the yellow cheese melting on top appeared familiar enough. The reason we were at that stand to begin with was because we were to meet BassPete there, who had become separated (as we all learned Pete has an uncanny talent for getting lost at the circuit, I use the word “lost” loosely, as it was just a matter of surveying the near bars, at which you had a 99% chance of finding him in line for a refill). So we’re behind the Becketts stands and we had just walked around ¾ of the circuit, which translates into about 10 miles (as we learned the day prior searching for the needle in the haystack, or as Brits like to call it, an ATM machine.) I had instructed Arrabi I wanted to be sure we had seen every angle and vantage point of the track known to man, which from one hopelessly addicted fan to another, this was greatly appreciated; but also made for a growling appetite. “I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries please.” I’ve said this sentence thousands of times in my lifetime, never with any memorable consequence. The oversized girl with a stupid looking white hat hands me the “chips” and cheeseburger. I pop a hand full of fries into my mouth, and I’m thinking, oh hell yeah, time to grub. I follow it up by the biggest bite I could summon on the cheeseburger. As the mystery meat starts to make my taste buds synapse, the message to my brain must have gone the opposite side of my brain of the fries message. Uhm, I protest to the boys sitting at the picnic table, “this isn’t very good”. I have an idea, so I pile on catch-up, both types of mustard, some brown .... in a bottle, and salt. Take another bite, again, damn, this doesn’t even taste like beef. I reluctantly polish off as much as I can stand from the burger, as I tried to overcome the hunger pains, we then made our way to the grandstands, as qualifying was about to start. We go up to Becketts bleachers, and what had been California looking day went artic cold. Wtf is up with the weather? We had sat under the cover in the stands, but I start to get the shakes. I’m thinking, geez, its cold, but my body shivering is a bit much. I convince the boys to move into the part of the stands where there was partial sunshine. But I’m still shivering, the taste in my mouth is foul, say, imagine you just ate road kill. My stomach starts to go whack. I start counting down the minutes to the end of qual. We go down the stairs and I tell the boys, “yo, wait here please, I need to make a toilet deposit.” .... me, the ten thousand people that came down from the stands are now in two big lines for the restroom. Think back to a time where you were in line (or as Brits like to say, “queue”) for the restroom, and you had to go real bad, its like your mind decides, ok, if you can hold it until you get to the front of the line, your brain then fires off the message to your colon, NOW is the time… RELEASE! Which means you have 3 more seconds to get the toilet stall. Well, I did everything possible to hold it, when I finally get inside the door, all I see is a big urinal trough! I start to visibly panic, holy ...., were are the shitters, the thought becomes a verbal outburst, I yell out, “Hey, were the .... are the shitters, the toilets??? …a dude looks at me and reply, “That’s the other line mate.” WTF! I push the dude behind me outta my way, I run to the other line; by that time my brain has already fired off its prescribed message: RELEASE! The other “queue” is still deep. I try my best to interrupt the involuntary sequence to my colon that my brain has been fooled into prematurely sending. .......! What seemed like an eternity, I finally get into the stall. I sat down, knowing damn well, the damage had been done. The bowel movement started with a bang. If you’ve ever wondered how .... gets on the backside of a toilet at a public restroom, I now know. Everything I ate the previous 15 hours went straight though like the MotoGP bikes at Hanger Straight, including that ....... hamburger. Oh man, and did it emanate the foulest stench which would have made skunks protest. I hadn’t had the guts to admit it, as I didn’t want to deal with the embarrassment at the time. (But oddly enough, the virtual world is a peculiar medium, as we debated this dynamic later on at Arabbi’s house, and which I will talk about later). Notwithstanding, I’ll reveal here, the boxers I had taken to the track in the morning…well they never returned. All my efforts to interrupt the message to ‘release’ were mostly successful, but not entirely. Somewhere in a Silverstone trash can is very soiled .... stained underwear. I tired my best, but sometimes, you just can’t avoid some crap. Be careful what you eat in a foreign country. (Btw, Gator had a similar lesson, on our way to the track race day, while sitting in traffic. I’ll have him tell it).

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Willski said:

12086:chop.JPG]



Some scary weirdo turned up at Arrabiata's on Saturday night.

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basspete said:

Holy crap! Its Charles Bronson!!!!!,!!

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Willski said:

12087:bronson.jpg]



I know !!! I was gonna post this pic as well and say....One of these men is a raving lunatic...The other is Charles Bronson

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Arrabbiata1 said:

Would you invite this man into your home?

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Arrabbiata1 said:

Would you invite this man into your home?

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Willski said:

12086:chop.JPG]



Some scary weirdo turned up at Arrabiata's on Saturday night.

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povol said:

Uncle Fester with a goatee

12088:fester.jpg]

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chopperman said:

You would / did if he had a bag full of beers and a bottle of woods

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