Not a rider was stirring, not even an Owl;
The bikes were parked in the shed with care,
In hopes of better weather and nice still air;
The bikers were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of curvy roads did dance in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains on our next lap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
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| Old Tag |
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The blur of a Yamaha was not just all show,
The rider remembering to keep it to 100 or below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature car, the driver with no idea,
With a little old driver so dopey and thick,
I knew in a moment he must be a dick.
Slower than a Harley but nevertheless he came,
And wandered all across the highway, the rider giving him a new name:
@#$% $#@%@ @#$% !$%@#% @$$!
@#$% $#@%@ @#$% !$%@#% @$$!
A bit more throttle meant rider took him on the hill
Then back off again lest he gets handed a bill
As leaves that behind the wild Tenere fly,
When an obstacle is seen, care is taken as it goes by;
So on to the tag the rider on bike flew
With a camera on board for the important photo too—
And then, in a twinkling, the picture was taken
And the search for the new tag undertaken.
As the rider mounted his horse, and was turning around,
Across the road a bunny did bound.
It was close the rider alarmed but the rabbit fleet of foot,
So very nearly was the bunny kaput;
Crisis averted the bike was back on track,
The rider not even turning back.
His eyes remained focused and throttle hand steady!
His visor was clean and his brake hand ready!
For the next little threat that might cross his bow,
Who knew what was next where he did go;
He did not worry nor clench his teeth,
And the helmet, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
The Alpinestars added a few pounds just like on the telly.
He was quick and bright, very sure of himself,
And I smiled when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And posted his picture while giving a smirk,
And laying his finger aside on his mouse,
He noticed that no other taggers did rouse;
No need to be sad or to bristle,
He had earned steak, the others gristle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he road out of sight—
“The tag is mine, try as you might!”
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| New Tag |
Never again...I promise!
