Shakespeare Fuel Light

Since I continue to rely on others for ideas, I will ‘borrow’ from the old bard’s Sonnet 26.

The worst part of running out of gas on a motorcycle is having to explain it to yourself. To others you will tell little white lies like ‘the gauge was off, or ‘my fuel computation routine malfunctioned’ or ‘there must be water in my fuel’, But you know what really happened- burned out fuel caution light. Right….

Regret the thought-, to turn another road;
And stretch the liquid energy within!
But hence, perchance a lark will sing
And song will bring me to the pump with grin.

Tarred stone compressed for me to make headway;
As on black bladders I do roll-
RPM’s of torque do pull me hence;
Spying stations flush doth my eye troll.

Cruel fate, that drives me on beyond the range
Computed swiftly on the white faced dial;
Forlorn the sputtering doth softly speak-
Fuel warning light is dark and did beguile-


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