Years ago group of us were at a rally at Lydden Hill circuit in Kent. There wasn’t much on in the evening so we wandered up to the local pub. While we were there it started chucking it down. We’re sitting there having a few when all of a sudden the door flew open and this wet and soggy mess of a guy came in. He was obviously on a bike and none of us knew him. He stood there and said “I’m wet!” So we said “ Hi Wet come and have a beer with us”. That was back in the late 70’s and to this day I only know him as Wet. I can’t for the life of me remember his real name! 
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Absolutely brilliant! 
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Your Mallory Park experience reminds me of a Transatlantic meeting probably in 1978 or ‘79. Always Easter weekend, notorious for mixed weather. Mallory was just over 100 miles south. Two-up on my Yamaha RD 400 avec camping gear. Weather ok but cool. Arrived, pitched our borrowed tent (which was little more than a children’s summer garden toy). Turned in later that evening and the temperature started to plummet. Our sleeping bags were about as thick as a padded envelope and the tent had a mesh vent strip all the way round through which an icy blast blew constantly. Having donned all of my limited wardrobe, I decided it would be a good idea to reduce the wind chill by sliding the bottom of the sleeping bag into a large bin bag which had contained our clothes. Schoolboy error! During the night the temperature had dropped below freezing and there was a sprinkling of snow all around. However, the bin bag prevented any moisture escaping and the resulting condensation had frozen inside, around the sleeping bag. Possibly the most unpleasant night in a tent up to that point in my life.
On the journey home north there was a strong headwind. Afterwards, I calculated that the bike had averaged a less than impressive 27mpg. I p/x’d it not long after for a GS750!
Now at 67, I cringe when I think how utterly unprepared we were for just about anything happening away from home. Always short of money, no plan for a puncture or break down. No idea on the route, just a quick gander at the map & follow the road signs. The unencumbered optimism and naivety of youth!
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I never know how we ever managed to organise anything like that. We never had mobiles and I didn’t even have a landlines. Such wonderful wonderful times though and fantastic memories. On another note…….. RD400 
. My all time favourite bike! I had three of them and would love another just for old times sake.
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We have a story similar to that with a picture which i will try and find.
I love stories like that, and it tells me that we have all done the same things, suffered the same mishaps and thankfully….lived to tell the tale.
The unencumbered optimism and naivety of youth indeed. 
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My tent was a cheapy. The fly sheet didn’t cover the front or back, just the sides. We were at the Ox Rally down in Somerset. Chucking it down with rain, Again. I decided to park my Z650 across the back end of the tent to stop the rain coming in. Laying in my sleeping bag with the rain getting harder and harder. It suddenly dawned on me that the bike was now parked on mud and could topple over at any minute. Not willing to go out and move it I just slid as far as I could to the other end of the tent. The bike was still there in the morning but I didn’t sleep a wink!
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I remember the mass arrivals at race meetings where the parking was on grass. The frantic scramble to find a piece of flat timber or discarded Coke can (even raiding bins) to fashion a side stand puck to avoid returning to the horror of a fallen machine.
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So true!!
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Not quite as funny as some stories told here, but on one occasion in pouring rain, I parked my 250RS on grass outside a cafe, comfortable in the knowledge I could see it through the window as I dried off.
My heart then missed a beat when looking through the window five minutes later, the bike could not be seen. I dashed outside thinking some knuckle dragger had stolen it, only to find the side stand had sunk and the bike was on its side.
Finding something hard to rest on, when on soft ground, became one of life’s ‘pleasures’ after that.
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Whoever invented the little plastic puck must have made a fortune. 
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Yep…been there, done that!
Jawa or MZ possibly?
I believe that’s a CZ.
Albeit they were eventually under the same banner.
I had a Black MZ ETZ 300 which was a fun basic bike.
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That was my other thought but would have seemed as though I was hedging my bets if I had included that make as well! I think the MZ was East German & the CZ Czechoslovakian. All Warsaw Pact anyway.
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Couple of mine.
First love the Suzuki T250J.
Then later on in life this Beautiful Kawasaki GPZ 900R A7. (Edit A8).
Which nearly cost me a divorce! 
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Did the Suzuki have those rubber mounted handlebars that used to move alarmingly under heavy braking and acceleration?
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My bike above is a CZ 250 988.2 Enduro. It’s a bike that the Jawa/CZ Owners’ Club said can’t have come out of the CZ factory, and they reckoned at best it was a “bitsa”. It certainly wasn’t. It had frame number 00009 and engine number 00014 and scrutineering paint marks on it. The wheel hubs and some of the engine casings were magnesium alloy. When I advertised it for sale, a non English speaking chap from Prague (where the factory used to be) snapped it up. He communicated with me via his secretary and sent a driver all the way from the Czech Rebuplic to fetch it. I reckon he knew more about its heritage than I did.
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Thank you for the information, such details are always interesting!
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