Posts Tagged ‘Riding’

Quittin Time

July 9, 2014

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.


Rose Colored Goggles

August 9, 2013

This is another one of my plagiarized poems. What a surprise huh? I’m using John Conlee’s idea for this poem. He sings a song about looking through ‘Rose Colored Glasses’. His significant other isn’t really that interested in him, but he presses on with his unrequited attentions. It’s got a good tune if you’ve never heard it… So, if you are a regular motorcycle rider in our modern society – you probably own at least one pair of Rose Colored Goggles-


Scalding breeze at fifty five,
freezing rain in puddles dive-
sunshine blinds the morning dawn;
wooded ride; beware the fawn.

but these rose colored goggles,
that I’m looking through-
mask threats environmental;
power past creations’ truth.

Yellow lights, traffic crawling-
A-D-D electric scrawling…
angry rage, excessive speed;
avoiding impacts is my creed.

but these rose colored goggles,
clear highways I see;
oil spills and potholes deep-
occasionally around I creep.

Loose chains, brake pads real thin;
a second job for dollars win.
Adjust the clutch, buy more chrome-
new battery before I roam.

But these rose colored goggles,
elastic band all stretched-
show only the beauty,
of good rides, fully fetched.

Ride Free NSA

July 25, 2013

Motorcycles are becoming more electronic every year. Computer chips control fuel flow to the engine, there are electronic throttles, mileage and range is computer controlled. Each of these systems emit electronic signals that can be captured, downloaded and recorded. Sheriff departments across the nation drive around with special trunk mounted cameras that record license plate information. 1984 is here daddyo!


Browsing steel steeds on wires fast,
Hondas, Harley’s; rides of rigor last-
Anticipate the v-twin bagger sound,
Invoice dollars, shekel, yen or pound.
– All info NSA has duly found…

Rides of chrome and brightest hue,
Processors flash numbers, engine ques.
A GPS will truly guide me home,
Swipe credit card for gas and oil to roam-
– NSA my data doth quick comb…

Park your ride; respite-, tea un-sweet;
Snap license plate, digitized quiet feat!
Tap phone of cell technology to chat-
Her love confessed to silicon disks flat.
– NSA details of data fat-

Times before the 60’s do I crave!
When wrong directly challenged by the brave-
Roads of only sunlight spectrum knew,
Rolling kisses and the wind; sky blue.
– NSA employees very few.

Bagger Blues

February 25, 2013

Baggers are motorcycles with large storage bins or ‘bags’ on each side of the rear wheel. Not everyone likes them or wants them. But they are very handy if you want to keep tools or other stuff with you when you ride. Especially snacks. Baggers sometimes have a long, lowish look called ‘slammed’. Baggers are usually constructed from the touring motorcycle class frames. The older you get the higher the probability you’ll end up on a bagger.


Sleek machines with chrome so bright,

slip through the wind by V-Twin might.

But tiny pouches clip my style;

Back pack sore; another mile-

Got them ‘no haul’ bagger blues….


A ride that’s slammed, my crystal ball.

Gives room for snacks and tools quite small-

Balanced bags for silvered manes!

Relief from stabbing shoulder pains-

Got them ‘no haul’ bagger blues…


Absent bags on bikes for streets,

seldom seen with chopper fleets.

Yet bags allure for all your stuff;

Computers, covers, toys with fluff-

Got them ‘no haul’ bagger blues

New Years Wet

January 1, 2013

This will probably be a lousy post. I’m almost forcing myself to write it- It’s New Years today; Jan 1, 2013. (Notice I didn’t use an exclamation point). It’s also raining; but I decided just to defy the rain and go out early for a ride. It wasn’t cold or uncomfortable, it was just wet. Riding a motorcycle when it is wet requires attention and careful turns. It also requires slow accelerations ( in both directions ). So much for the intro- if you are not familiar with the four horsemen, read Revelation Chapter 6


Unruly molecules of slick hold tight,

to paths of bitumen and esters white-

Now gentle are the revs of engine chrome;

To safely gain my goal of wasteful roam.


Hungover are the hoards of New Year’s fest-

As fitful flash and bangs disturbed their rest.

The newest day of ’13 has arrived!

With feds who sparkle budgets just contrived.


Yet in the mist of gloom before the sun,

On steel wheels and chrome I seek some fun-

With care negotiate the slimy, wily wet;

Black Horseman rising is a growing threat.

The Sign Ignored

December 2, 2012

I’m sorry for publishing so many poems in a short time span. It must be Alzheimer’s.

There is a sign. It conveys a message. Sometimes the message is not well received. It’s often ignored. Will you heed its call? Maybe when gas prices hit $6… ?


Forlorn sign hangs strictly laced;

Eyeholes brass,  in fence well placed.

Words in red are seen at night-

but only when the lightning’s bright.


The message understood; but few will heed,

Juxtaposed to traffic’s irritated speed-

Quietly proclaims commitment’s call;

The message on blind eyes of masses falls.


It does not shy from sun or wind or dust;

There is some stain from brownish fencing rust.

A message bold for some, a bit of fear-

The letters beckon all both far and near,

on white fabric; ‘Motorcycle Classes Here’.

Cats Don’t Cruise

December 1, 2012

Recently, it has been reported by the Internetzi that cats, yes, you read right – CATS rule the internet. I think what they mean is that cat videos on video services are very popular. However, cats don’t ride. I like cats and find them entertaining; but they don’t ride – period.


Fifth gear cruise past base beat louds,

surf the net through data clouds.

Looks from cats that can amuse…

Rest assured, them cats don’t cruise


Dogs will ride with tongues that flap,

Parakeets can ride with rap-

teddy bear in breeze won’t bruise!

but kitty kat too bored to cruise.


Share them cats on networks fast-

Entertain the masses now and last.

But cats on twins are just a ruse-

cause felines never paws to cruise.

An Absolute Zero

September 17, 2012

Perfect riding scores on the Motorcycle Basic Rider Course are zeros. It’s like golf; low scores are better. Mostly the perfect scores are a matter of luck. A few are Absolute Zeros.


Arrive on time with confidence, it seems;
Thoughts of her, no worries in his dreams-
road rules and controls, he’s mastered all,
Attention span is strained; a pool hall.

Dismounting from his ride the pipes they gleam,
Quiet now the pistons rest their scream-
Takes a seat in class amongst the new,
His questions of the course, a very few.

While others halt and stall upon concrete,
He smoothly glides and turns aplomb replete-
Each maneuver challenges, but not for him;
Quietly perfection sings it’s hymn.

Evaluation time the second day,
classmates fret about their scores; dismayed
Authority his ride, delivers absolute-
Perfect marks; and girlfriend quite cute.

Bright Rider Ballad

September 10, 2012

Some riding cultures have a dark aspect. But black clothes, jackets, and other accessories make you hard to see at night; and even in the daytime. I prefer the brighter side of riding for several reasons.


Dull helmet on a blacked out steed,

accelerating loudly,

inky jackets boast their deeds,

Pounding on, so proudly.


Others cruise on bikes that gleam,

cheerful blooms within the traffic beat.

Flashing bright the sunlight beam-

Gloves of white defeat the heat.


Safety is its own reward,

See and avoid is true!

Brightly gleam a cheery chord-

Reflecting prism hues.

A Quiet Start

May 26, 2012

Spring weekends are great times to ride in South Texas. But being boisterous at five o”clock in the morning doesn’t endear you to your neighbors. Need to leave the neighborhood discreetly! BTW, if you don’t know – mockingbirds sing other birds songs; and some can sing for hours on end… seems like hours anyway.


Freedom’s breeze demands an early rise,

Before the mockingbird’s melodious lies-

Segmented door retracts above with squeeks;

Ease out the wheels, check floor for oily leaks.

Close up the house with care; inside she sleeps.


V-twin grumbles greeting cloudy dawn,

upon return, quick mow and trim this rowdy lawn.

But now, slowly creep down lonely street;

Careful shift to roll on hard concrete-

and in the mirror reflects my home, wherein she sleeps.


Few RPMs to hide, my V-twin’s decibles contained,

time awaits the road of horsepower unrestrained;

but now I sneak past houses dark within-

To un-disturb the dreaming and their kin,

Behind in darkness she sleeps on-

The road ahead is clear; tis then I grin.