You sit behind the handlebars, while the engine plays it’s tune,
you ride by soul, more than touch, as if guided by some acient rune.
You think, as we all have, you look within you, as you ride,
without thinking about it, without a thought for pride,
for true bikers dont ride for glory, or for the rewards of men,
but for the simple joy of riding, that’s not a what, it’s a when.
Like the tale of man and machine, growing together old,
Something not understood, by those not of our fold.
Greg came for a visit and took my Kids for a ride each. They are still talking about it. Thanks Greg.
And thanks for visiting. Nat