Sometimes in life there are triggers or thresholds defining transitions. Same for motorcycles.
The history of Valentine’s Day is shrouded in misty myth and legend. Some believe an early Christian named Valentine worked to save his condemned brothers and sisters but ended up a victim himself. Love in action! – but no one knows for sure… In a more modern setting, giving Valentine’s Day cards has been going on for several hundred years. What does all this sacrificial love and romance have to with V-Twin motorcycles? Well, maybe a box of chocolates with a fat check taped to the lid will get you a few hours to ride… just saying.
Dreamy princess binds your time,
A Valentine bestowed sublime!
Feminine, the bottom line-
cold hard cash for cruising fine.
Feather clouds above the dawn,
Fuel Injector; petrol drawn-
Hard light to power my piston’s song;
FED dollars they don’t last too long.
Romance fills the miles I ride,
Love the power those dollars hide…
Amid pillows; dreams of clothes,
And as she sleeps-
I fly past pasture fencing rows.
Barron’s writer Jim Mctague on Jan 10, 2015 eloquently described the gut wrenching fervor of lawmakers to repair U. S. infrastructure. Everyone wants roads and bridges fixed- but wants the other guy to pay. It’s why we have a failing society, lazy federal bureaucrats, and $18T in short term debt. Fix those potholes for my ride!!
Panic stricken politicians,
rust stained concrete bridge partitions.
Eighteen trillion on our card-
taxpayers must work more hard!
Black smoke proclaims the dozer’s day,
dawn illuminates the fray
steel, pipe and girders strong;
new road for rides alone and long
Sand, stone and asphalt heat,
mixed to harden, forms replete.
Patiently my V-twin waits,
Four lanes to reach horizon’s gates…
Muscled brawn strains with the beam,
Rebar placed to bridge the seam-
Painted stripes and drainage swales,
Smoothly cruise refurbished trails.
Nineteen trillion dollars- Fail!
One hundred fifty years ago cowboys would come off the range, hitch their ponies to the post in front of the local saloon, and go in and drink sarsaparillas. The horses rested at the hitching post and cooled themselves at the water trough. The cowboys got out of the wind and refreshed themselves with soft-drinks. This romantic half-truth kept the peace on the old range and allowed white men and native americans to cooperate and prosper- sometimes. Other times not so much… At any rate the old reliable equine has been replaced by the motorcycle.
Sweating horses, hitching post-
long past; shadows of a cowboy’s ghost.
At Starbucks now my ride doth rest;
Blue chrome reflects my drink request.
Horse power measured digit one,
saddle, spurs and hat with gun;
Today a ride of grumbling haste-
Horses thunder, high-test grace.
Reigns of leather, bridle held,
Twelve hundred pounds of muscle meld-
Progress turned horse flesh to steel;
side-stand tilts, V-twin revealed.
Long ago the horses ruled,
hitching post and water cooled.
Modern rides; two wheels might roll-
electronic lock controlled.
The rock band REO Speedwagon once wrote a song called ‘Roll With The Changes’. The song has very important implications for today. Washington Society is pushing us to keep changing our founding fathers principles and traditions. I say they can keep the change; while I roll on through…
Available, an upgrade now,
Leading edge; free furrowed brow.
My V-twin pounds a steady beat,
Upgrades steel, with chrome that’s neat!
Better phones with faster texts,
Brighter lights; avoiding wrecks-
EPA’s much stricter rules…
got to buy some metric tools.
ISIS wants us all to pray,
to moon god parked down Mecca way.
Yeshua is my LORD to keep-
Fuel injector program leap;
When download done – the box will beep.
Motorcycle news has been full of electric motorcycle products for many months. Harley-Davidson was the latest to showcase an electric ride. Now personally, I’m all for improving technology, but when limited range is combined with hours and hours of recharging… Well, didn’t we visit this issue back in the 1910s! My short answer is Tesla will fail and electric bikes at best will be a novelty.
Chemistry evokes electrons small,
Horizons far; a tricky order tall-
Visionaries march towards carbon free!
Petroleum in tanks is all I see…
Combustion of a different sort – OK,
on distance none will waffle or be swayed.
The atoms in your battery get tired,
hours pass while charging fully wired…
Need a charge- those plugs are hard to find.
Armatures and staters on you mind;
Imitation noise a selling tool-
Valve adjustments? Never is the rule.
So saddle up! Then ride to windmill farm,
Visualize the energy, and harm.
Flaring and deep fracking is still best!
Internal fire rumbles on request….
Quantum physics is a very strange set of equations that predict the existence of sub-atomic particles and their corresponding force vectors. But that isn’t the way it started out. The physicists who began the work were actually Harley riders and they were searching for a single equation; using their odometer as a baseline- to predict when they should change their engine, primary and transmission lubricants. The resultant work yielded strange outcomes like ‘anti-chrome plated’ oil filters. The rest is motorcycle history…
Accelerate to speeds beyond the known-
As time dilates to squeeze a bottom clone.
Anti-spin collisions, get a quark,
Transmission oil is looking awful dark…
Ride through a vector field with charm-
Another round odometer won’t harm.
The engine oil must drain at winter’s face;
Electrons twice, two places once embrace.
Equations theory filters with a nut,
Much easier to twist; then fully shut-
But will the Higgs trace out a blatant path-
Scraped knuckles are the only epitaph.
Synthetic color mystifies the mind,
Inspection plate removal at the chime.
Femto seconds age at pico-scale,
Cruise boldly through old Sol’s neutrino gale!
Title Stolen from Mary Chapin Carpenter’s song…
If you have a riding problem- you do it at Quittin Time
Nail deep to hold the structure’s frame,
Another roof conceals enchantment’s flame-
Minutes drag till day completes its fun;
Release the torque for v-twin rumble run.
Cubicles encase the business ebb and flow;
Endless tapping keys unlocked, transpose-
Knowledge printed read, then glibly tossed,
Handlebars will pull you from partition’s dross.
Baking sun or icy gale, a prairie players prayer;
Target depth from toil and greasy derrik’s tare.
One last pipe to trip on schedule firm yet true;
Then saddle up your triple pistoned ego coup-
Mundane to serve a burger on a garnished bun,
Patrons harried raw by deadlines they do shun.
French fries bubble deep within the slime-
RPMs and thrust to claim; at Quittin Time.
Motorcycles are exactly like money; they are inherently neither good or bad, can be used for value based exchanges, often their value is related to the latest crude oil quote and are occasionally moved in the middle of the night by nefarious characters. They have been known to take people to places they should avoid – like ice cream parlors.
Sugar cravings creeping round?
Can’t quite lose that stubborn pound?
Blame may lie at V-twin’s wheels-
Tuesday has those 2- for deals!
As you round your favorite curve
Speed demands your steeled nerve-
Then your will to jelly turns,
Spying house of deep fried burns!
Gasoline flows in your tank,
Card it siphons from your bank.
Salty snacks on shelves abound…
Belt to loosen stomach round.
Chocolate becons; creamy song-
Scale bemoans you’re in the wrong!
Motorcycle doesn’t care…
Adjust the shocks once more- with care.
Do you ever wonder how motorcyclists make decisions while they are riding? You’re in good company, because no one else does either… But in today’s philosophy of waisting time on pointless research, I thought it would be important to peal back the onion on a motorcyclist’s brain in action. A new low- I know already…
RADAR on the internet;
Forecast shows no front to fret-
Ride on roads not fully planned,
Text the friends with just one hand.
Dress the part and TCLOCS first,
Ready for the power burst-
Rendezvous agreed for start;
Caffeine races head and heart.
Search the road twelve seconds out,
Swerve and miss that tree branch stout!
Snap check fuel while scan on goes;
Spacing good, as traffic slows.
Adjust a mirror to better view,
Closing threats as throttle queues-
Roadway scan shows clear ahead,
Outside curve, then lean to thread.
Brain beyond the handlebars-
Sunshine bright or under stars,
Fleeting glance to left or right-
Creator’s goodness and His might.