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I finished my coffee
And strapped on my chaps.
Pulled on my boots
And ignored the map.
Climbed in he saddle
And started to grin,
I Pushed the button
On my old friend.
The V-Twin roared,
And came to life.
That deep Harley rumble,
The glow of the lights.
I pulled in the clutch
With my left hand,
And then the ride
Truly began.
The gentle vibration
Of the old Iron Horse,
I pulled on the throttle
And steadied my course.
The tires gripped the road
Hugging it tight,
The birds and trees
All beautiful sights.
The feeling of riding,
My face in the breeze,
All muscle tension
Begins to ease.
You miss so much
When inside a car,
You miss half the sky
And half of the stars.
Life becomes calm,
All troubles are gone.
In the back of your mind,
Your singing a song.
This feeling can't be
Truly described.
You have to live it,
Take it all in stride.
So ride on my friends,
And feel the rush.
May your pipes be loud,
And never be hushed.
By: Dave Williamson (C) 2013
A short write about how it feels rumblin down the road on your hog and living the lifestyle.
Harley... throbbing like a beast
of running boar through thicket's deep;
Swaying through the turns unknown
reaching, claiming the roads to own.
Run's with Bro's that draw all eye's
to see how the brotherhood live their lives,
The feel of power, the strength in it's weight
the final freedom, to ride to our fate.
All this and more, all combine
to fulfill our love for this Milwaukee Iron.
WHISKERS
(C)2012
COMMENTS
It was 4 am, the bar's were closed
last call now in the past,
The roads lonely dark and empty
no one still out running tasks,
A Friday late night rumble
on my Harley heading home,
From a summer's evening respite
under dark skies all alone.
When up ahead I see in form
an old familiar shape,
A 1960's Volkswagen
I must eventually evade.
I squeezed my brakes to slow on down
behind this darkened mass,
And see this dude pushing his car
whose weight was beyond vast.
Soaked from sweat and red in face
breathing very labored,
Before he croaks right where he leans
I offer do him a favor,
His Beetle died 3 miles back
he'd pushed it for an hour,
I told him I could tow him home
under Harley power.
He seemed to doubt I could complete
this feat but I insisted,
Retrieved my tow rope from my bag
and tied to this car that listed,
Then hooked around my sissy bar
and pulled the tow rope taut,
Kicked it into 1st and eased out the clutch,
till my 1st gear caught.
Now Harley's may just be V-Twin
but are loaded with compression,
With pistons like those from truck engines
I taught this boy a lesson.
Now I'm not one to exaggerate
you can ask my spouse,
but I believe if I was put to task
I could pull a mobile house.
Well, I only had a couple miles left
to tow and get him safely home,
Accept his thanks, rebuff his tip,
and tell him “Just pay it forward bro”.
So that's the time two wheels towed four
to get one big dude home,
A tale that's true, from me to you
from which this poem's grown.
By WHISKERS
01-28-2013
COMMENTS
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