Rally season was always an exciting time of the year, especially at the height of the summer. With the weatherman daubing his map with Fuzzy Felt-type sunshine shapes and guaranteeing blue skies for the weekend, we were all set for our latest adventure – but this time it was different. Gone was the usual rundown seaside town, this time we were heading for the remotest pub in the country. It may have seemed odd, but three of us had joined the Lambretta Club of Great Britain, not a usual course of action for young Lambretta owners of the time, and we’d discovered that they organised these types of rallies for their loyal members.
