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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1385186-Springs-first-run
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Activity · #1385186
From my biker days. Northern rider anticipates years first organized ride.
Sleep didn't come easy last night.
Been thinkin' about tomorrow for over a month now,
Like a kid dreamin' about Christmas.
Tossing and turning, for hours it seems,
All the little details drifting through my semi-conscious mind.
The leathers are all laid out and ready to go.
Saddlebags are packed...
Christ, why can't I fall asleep??

Cruising down the winding country road,
The ol' lady snuggled in behind me.
Just gettin' into the feeling.
The clear blue sky, the surprising warmth of the April sun.
Dry pavement. Surrounded by friends.
Mmm, this is what life's all about.

Boone and Scotty up ahead,
every bit as into it as I am.
Moose ridin' abreast of me and the lady,
grinnin' like some kind of fuckin' idiot.
The Woodman and several others fillin' up the rearviews.
Heh, Goddamned Woody - always bustin' my ass about ridin' a Trumpet.
That's o.k - he doesn't appreciate my short jokes either.
Little fucker. ...

The incessant chirping slowly intrudes upon your dream.
Fuckin' electronic alarm clocks anyway.
Shit, is it morning already?
Then it hits you... Yeah! Today we're gonna ride.

Swinging your legs off the bed and onto the floor,
You notice the bright sunlight streaming through the blinds,
Bringing a smile to your face as you stretch your sleepy muscles.
It's gonna be a great day.

A hot shower and a couple of cups of coffee later,
You're pulling on your jacket and shades as you head out the door.
Anxious to be on your way.

Walking towards the bike, you drink in her exquisite beauty.
The early morning sunlight glinting off the chrome.
The paint job beckoning to your senses like an x-rated movie.
The sleek, flowing lines of a thoroughbred ready to run.

Straddling the machine, you reach down with both hands
and stroke your iron lover.
Opening the petcocks and swinging out the kickstarter,
You grab the handlebars and kick it through a couple of times.
Leaning forward, you switch on the ignition,
then stand on it with all you've got.
On the second kick the engine fires,
Just as you knew she would.
Not perfect, but better than most.
And you are at one with the world.

You sit there for a moment,
Revving her gently as the oil pressure builds.
Your mind full of the events of the day to come.
Your left hand activates the clutch lever,
And that familiar clunk into first gear snaps you out of your reverie.

As you pull out onto the road accelerating,
The rhythmic song of the mill beneath you lifts you even higher.

Very soon now, you'll be with your brothers and sisters of the wind again,
And all will be as it should be.






© Copyright 2008 Thompson (ygdrasil54 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1385186-Springs-first-run