Monday, December 03, 2007

trail trip

Bust out the balaclava, winter shoes and tights
cover that skin cause the arctic wind bytes.
Weekend rides start early, as do the nights.
It's fun to ride with folks who aren't afraid of heights.
Hide in the comfort of familiar beaten tracks,
carpeted with camouflage, but you can't hold back!
these are your friends but you start an attack,
flying up leaf covered hills in a blistering pack.
Adrenalin levels heightened in an oxygen deprived head,
whirling the pedals, wide open, full speed ahead!
On a blistering pace my chassis glows infrared.
flames now lap my heels, the steel radiating a deep cherry red.
Grab a hand full of brake but the pads dissolve to a gas,
hot embers streak from my hurtling mass,
I try to avoid hitting trees and the tall grass
and my bike now ablaze like liquefied natural gas.
I reach for my camel back hose and can only hope that it isn't froze.
I extend, aim, and pinch and alas it isn't froze and it goes and flows,
and the red red glows of my incredibly weird woes
have spared my life but burned my toes.

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