Autumn Twilight Plinking

October 16, 2015

In the early part of Desert Storm, the U. S. Air Force was using the formidable F-111F to -plink- (squish) Sadam’s tanks. Plinking was accomplished using LASER guided smart bombs dropped from the F-111s. Last night, I was using my headlight to guide bugs to -plink-; ouch! And there really are bugs we call Love-Bugs here in Texas…


Sol’s autumn beams cast shadows long, he sets quite gently in the west;

my V-twin steed loafs anxiously awaiting throttle’s harsh requests.

Rain in spring and summer heat are parents to a plague replete-

with tiny aviators wings; hit my face and goggles, -plink-.

Air is crisp as engine torques, propels me through a dimming view;

light retreats along my way, sky dilutes to muted satin hues.

Rejoice! to ride in twilight clear, stars proclaim their ancient truth above-

Annoying thuds against my cheeks; gnats, flies and bugs called ‘Love’.

How is it then that I deserve, to taste majestic rolling bliss;

upon a rail quite finely tuned, Mazzaroth bestows her ancient kiss.

Committed to the path at hand, each twist and turn of road I think,

of hard forged steel with God’s Good Grace;

and flying bugs enduring each annoying -plink-.

Traffic Symphony #2

October 9, 2015

Traffic is getting worse all the time. My motorcycle feels it.


Yield signs, crosswalks, right turn only lanes;
chronic victims texting without looking through their panes-
Stop and go methodically, my V-twin’s heating up,
Turning into coffee shops, abruptly for to sup-

Brake pads wearing rapidly, down to sliver size-
Harsh acceleration thins synthetic oils’ prize.
Highway backups spill into the side-streets evermore…
Politicians promise funding fixes; vaporize galore.

Right wrist sore from flexing lever constantly, to slow-
Glaring green defeated by a towers’ data flow.
“Love thy neighbor always friend”, the Lord has spoken thus…
Otherwise we’d find them neatly tucked below some bus-

Power Played Perfection 

September 13, 2015

Diesel engines used on large commercial vessels can be four stories high and produce one hundred thousand horsepower. Nitrous bottles blow v-8 engine power bands well past the normal ranges. Converion kits allow trucks to burn natural gas. But the key to all these platforms of pulsation is knowing precisely when to tap the torque.


Cruise quietly before the dusk of dawn,

Solitude and steady pace ride on-

Light ahead still green; it tarries bright,

Torque moment rips the tacky throttle tight.


Pokey metal pachyderms who steal,

Precious moments; dolts behind their wheels.

Cell phones plastered to their deafened ears,

Passing slot is leveraged smoothly cleared.


Highway myriads a matrix make,

Merging power plays of give and take.

Accordion we move then slow once more

RPMs rev tapestries towards freedom’s shore.

Three Thousand R-P-M

April 11, 2015

Sometimes in life there are triggers or thresholds defining transitions. Same for motorcycles.

Vibration rattles handlebars while pausing for the light-
Radiated waves of heat cook muscle through clothes bright.
Drivers souls crushed down into the coolest of the gems;
Freedom flashes, V-twin roars; Three Thousand R-P-M.
Once more the speedo passes thirty, fifty is on deck-
Car ahead drifts toward my lane, a swerve avoids a wreck.
Fifth gear now, new band of smash as cams do lift the stems-
To feel the power in the breeze; Three Thousand R-P-Ms.
Accelerate past stripes of gooey latex on the road-
Passing quickly S-U-Vs and lorries rolling loads.
Hefty forks steer deftly down the blackened asphalt’s hem;
And there I cruise quite comfortably; Three Thousand R-P-M.
An hour passes, almost two till conscience bids me home,
She tarries there; but stresses when too long out there I roam.
Just one more stop to fill the tank, this ride another poem,
Back on the road, shift up to third; Three Thousand R-P-M.

V-Twin Valentine

February 14, 2015

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.

Infrastructure Indentured Cruise

January 14, 2015

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!

Chrome at the Post

October 2, 2014

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.

Rolling Through Changes

September 20, 2014

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.

Sparkie Rider

August 26, 2014

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….

The Quantum Motorcycle Mechanic

July 9, 2014

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!


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