It was sometime in July/August 1977 that a small ad appeared in The Courier Mail on a Saturday morning asking anyone interested in forming a Ducati Club to ring a government public service number and ask for Mick or Brian. Overwhelmed with the dozen phone calls from keen Ducati owners, these boys organised a meeting at a council hall in Camp Hill for a cold Wednesday night, which turned out not to be a very good idea as the hall burnt down between when it was booked and when the meeting was supposed to be.

Five people turned up for the meeting which didn't get off to a very glamorous start as no one could recognise the charred remains of a building as our meeting place. A consensus decision saw us roll up to the Camp Hill Hotel where we talked things over over a cold one or three.

Another meeting didn't get organised for a month or so, and then it was at Mark Glynn's house on Rode Road. It was here that such notable members as The Ferret, Peter White, Rick 'Ghost who walks' Walker, and 'Uncle Bob' Pashley made their debut. The first committee was also elected, with Mick Rocket grabbing the position of Pres because it was his idea to place the ad in the paper. Bob Pashley was our first Treasurer (and still is, by the way!!) because he worked at the Post Office and Mark Glynn was Secretary - it was his house. So, after the second meeting, we had our inaugural committee of three with a president no one ever saw again as he joined the Armed forces the following week and moved south of the border to Melbourne.

Next on the excitement agenda was the first club run. The meeting place was the Caltex Servo at Eight Mile Plains. Ten Ducatis went through Springbrook, Numbinbah Valley and on to Kingscliffe. The Ferret introduced everyone to his stunning repertoire of tricks, like big wheelies, riding up beside you and switching your ignition off, riding backwards, side saddle and standing up on the seat. Bob's 750SS lost a few bits and pieces on the way - the rear carbie blew off and bounced along behind him and the battery flew out for some strange reason. But this was all very sedate compared to what Brian Eugarde had in store for everyone as well as for his poor little 250 Desmo. Brian must have been very excited after the swimming and skylarking at Chillingham because he took off like a rocket from the swimming hole and into the hair pin. Someone said, "Gee, he's going to have some fun on that corner", and he sure did - went clean through the barbed wire fence and got airborne off the two meter drop. He was relatively unperturbed, even though he ended up in the camping ground. On viewing the tents and canvas, he is believed to have said, "Funny place to put a camping ground". The only problem was getting his bike through the fence and the weeds and onto the road again.

After the first run, the club advanced fairly quickly, partly because we were all very keen and always trying to get other Dukes riders interested, and partly because it gave us a forum to meet other enthusiasts and learn about their bikes - what made them fun to own and what didn't. Another present member at this time was Tom Williams who was once seen at a bike shop at Underwood. On display was a second-hand Harley 1200, which Tom was pretending he wanted to buy, just so he could get take a test ride. He got a test ride alright, complete with a large bike salesman perched on the "buddy pad". On his return, he had to convince the salesman that he'd have to think about it a bit more...

Now it's almost 25 years later and no one has ever heard of Mick Rocket, our first pres, and it's not known if "The Ferret" still does his tricks, or if Tom still hustles rides on second-hand Harleys. With the Aussie dollar down the tube, Fraser's have got to ask a bit more than the $2300 I paid for my 750SS a year or so later. It's a different world now and a different Ducati Club of Queensland. They've even taken the bend out of the road at Chillingham. Nevertheless, there's still plenty of good roads if you want to take your bike long and hard. Who knows, you could even see me early on a Sunday morning at Mt Nebo or Mt Tamborine.