2Wheeltips

These are words; I thought I would never say,
But, I do not feel like riding today;
It is warm outside and the weather is clear,
But, I feel like staying inside today my dear;
I hear the rumbling sound from afar,
I do not take my eyes away from the peanut butter jar;
Is it depression or is it feeling sick,
But there is something in my heart, just didn’t click;
There on the floor, my boots do they lay,
My jacket is hanging, saying to my jeans, Let’s ride anyway;
Am I going crazy is this what I hear,
My bike will take off without me inside my gear;
My gear is telling my bike, let’s go,
One depressed rider does not stop the show;
There is a question that I need to ask myself,
Why is my head in the peanut butter jar-- and I can’t think of nothing else;
Maybe, you who are reading this, the question you can answer,
The days you do not feel like riding or being a dancer;
You hear the music playing your favorite tune,
Your soul does not move and you feel gloom;
I think I know what I need to do,
Get my head out of this peanut butter jar, and talking to you;
I heard it said, and I have said it before,
Just grab your gear and head towards the door;
Jump on your bike and go for a ride,
To be sure the wind will wipe the tears from your eyes;
The soul of your heart that is feeling low,
When you throw your legs over the iron pony, your soul will glow;
How do you know, how do you know, I hear you ask,
Because I’ve been there and took on the task;
When you want to ride, but don’t feel like it,
Just go to the garage and on the bike just sit;
Before you know it, that will not be all,
Your inner soul will hear the call;
Before you know it, down the street you will be,
Passing me by and grinning at me.

I am proud to be an American and ride an American made,
What does that really mean, when you are not riding a cage;
I went to the dealer and my money he received,
He told me it was American made and that is what I believed;
5,000 miles later, I had to go purchase a part,
Would you know what saw, and beleive me it was not God;
It started my mind to thinking and it became real clear,
That what I was riding was not American made, my dear!;
I know some who have paid $9,000 and more,
To replace the chrome and other parts to make her glow;
When on the box or package you do read,
American made is not the name that is there in deed;
Some other country name you will see,
If this is so, how American made can it be?
Well they tell you to buy the clothes, because they are an orginal brand, Well just pull back the label and look inside the pants;
Those at the top, really do not care,
just as long as they can take your money, I know, I been there;
The mind of those who are not at the top,
will fuss and fight and kill you over a pop;
The mind of those who are not at the top,
is only one place that they will really shop;
But, if one really took the time to take a closer look,
and read the labels, their very soul would shook;
The mind of those who are not at the top,
will turn their nose down on others,
and when they see you riding by, they will say you are not a brother;
I know that I am stepping into a deep zone of rage,
to mess with another man's ride that is not a cage;
Because I am writing this,
I by no means is throwing a dis;
If it is going to be an American made,then make it all the way,
so that your parts and clothes will read, made in the old USA;
When I am riding, and the iron pony,
after, I have given you my money;
I want to know is what I am riding is legit,
Is it really 100% American made, is it?

When do I need to stop, is a voice that I hear,
It is a sound that comes from my inner ear;
I read the books, and classes I do take,
but will I stop before its to late;
I recognize the all the signs, I see,
but are they really there for me;
Is there such a thing as going too far,
especially when you are not driving a car;
What about two wheels that you are on,
can you go too far, where far becomes gone;
What is it that you are talking about,
because what you are writing is not clear, and I am out;
I don't have time to waste,
Just because you are typing up space;
You know we bikers do not call a car by its name,
The word we use is "cage", it is a biker's thang;
You make me wonder are you a real biker that ride,
or are you a wanna be, who is full of jive;
So as a reader, I have an answer for you,
I can tell you what you need to do;
Save up some money so you will not become poor,
don't try to sell your prose from door to door;
Buy yourself a bike to ride, and a safety class do take,
your writing is getting on my last nerve, give me a break;
Well Mr. Don't like what I write, tell me when do I stop,
In the background when you hear the sound of the 2wheeltips cop;
What is that sound, I must ask,
When Carol says to you, "your poems are a blast!"

When we throw our legs over a piece of steel,
things come out of our mouths at will;
just think of some of the things you have said,
during an after thought, you felt real scared;
You used your creator's name in vain,
because a cage wanted your lane;
You might tell yourself that you ride without fear,
when you look in the mirror, a fool you see my dear;
Riding a bike is no joke, nor is it play,
Just within a moment, could ruin your day;
You tell yourself, I am looking cool,
but riding without protective gear, makes you a fool;
Oh, I guess, I just put my foot in my mouth,
Just made someone mad and their feelings went south;
I must say this fool, I have been,
while riding with my hair in the wind;
Saying to myself all the time,
I know what I am doing is a biker's crime;
But each time I read or hear it said,
that if you don't wear a helmet you will be dead;
I feel like my freedom is being taken away,
I should be able to ride any kind da way;
I tell myself it is my right,
and for that, I am willing to fight;
I tell myself, full finger gloves, I do not need,
I have tough knuckles and they don't bleed;
You saw some thing and had some luck,
and than asked your self do I have a buck;
You stop for gas and open the lid,
and found out later, deeper as you dig;
No money, no credit, not even a dime,
my mind says steal it, but it is a crime;
Ride it like you stole it, is what they say,
but if I steal this gas, I will have to ride that way;
Do not pretend that you are an angel, without any sin,
I can see behind that sweet biker's grin;
So things on my mind, I must stop hiding;
I wanted you to know, what goes though my mind, when I am riding.

I took my bike to the shop the other day,
Asked them to fix my bike, they said, "OK!";
I left it with them and was feeling good,
Knowing my bike would be fixed as it should;
I received a call and they said it would be delayed,
That meant that my bike would be in there another day;
They promised me, they promised me, I took their word,
I know what they told me and I know what I heard;
I had this strange feeling in my gut,
I felt that my bike would go untouched;
I have heard of stories, where they said they would fix,
and take your money and you would be git;
Now I don't want to give two wheel tips a bad name,
with the reader thinking two wheel tips feels the same;
All of this is just coming from me,
If my bike could talk it would agree;
I had a trip to Americade planned,
Hotel reservation made in advanced;
If I did not make it on time,
I would lose my deposit and my mind;
Something happened to my bike while I was riding there,
The same old problems started again and I will share;
What makes me so sure in my mind,
I knew a mechanic that used to work there at one time;
He told me of shady practices and lies,
That is why now, I have opened my eyes;
What can you do when you can't do your own work,
and have to depend on a dealer who is a jerk;
I really don't like speaking like this,
Because all shops this is not their practice;
I said, I would share what it was, they didn't do,
To be honest, I don't have a certifed clue;
30,000 miles maintenance, is what I ask,
and fix the fairing that was shaking like a blast;
The radio was making strange noise and sounds,
After, I picked up my bike and rode around;
The bike didn't feel tight like it use to would,
It felt loose like something ratteling under the hood;
I know I can't prove legit;
I want to know, did they fix it!

Each one must decided how far to go,
long distance or around the corner to the store;
But if you are writing a poem for others to read,
then keep it short and you will have fullfilled their need;
Now days people have a short attention span,
and don't have time to do a quick scan;
What is that in the road that I didn't see,
a great big pot hole, looking at me;
Now do I sweal or countersteer,
do I drop her down into first gear;
Afraid to stare and target fix, I become,
and right into the pot hole, I will run;
Remembering my training from two wheel tips,
I will make the bike do a little dip;
Dip to the right and dip to the left,
do it all within a single breath;
I made it around the pot hole, just in time,
because countersteering came to my mind;
I must keep it short and I must go,
I was just taking a ride to the corner store.
Anything can happen even on a short ride,
That is why I prayasIride!

Mental toughness what is that,
It is the moment that your butt sat;
You raise up your legs and saddle you did do,
Mentally in your mind, a motorcycle you rode too;
You heard the fears, from the voice of others,
All said you were getting yourself into trouble;
Some called you a fool, and said you were crazy,
But none of them thought it was amazing;
Off to the MSF course there you went,
Shaking like a leaf, and grinning like a mint;
Felt the heart letting you know it was there,
Felt your soul, say to you I dare;
Dare what is what you asked,
Are you saying I shouldn't stand up to the task?
The soul kept silent and did not speak a word,
Because it wanted you to get in touch with what you just heard;
The mind of yours began to wonder too,
If this is something that you must do;
You observed the class a varity of people you did see,
The old, the young, and folks just like me;
Here comes the instructor, with a great big smile,
He told everyone to learn to ride a bike will take a while;
Practice, practice, practice, practice he said over and over again,
He made me feel like I could do it, if I gave it a chance;
There was a time, when I wanted to walk out of the class,
When I heard about the accidents that took place in the year past;
The Hurt Report, I think it is what he said,
It talked about what caused a lot of bikers to become dead;
What the instructor highlighted from the report was not little,
A new way of learning to ride safe to keep you out of the hospital;
It was at that moment that my mind made a switch,
It got real tough, and I said to myself, "I am not going to quit."

I read the words of a friend of mine,
she comment on my writing all the time;
Ride and write she said you can't do,
hold up your bike, while writing to you;
This became a real challenge to me,
to check it out to see if it could be;
I got up early this morning and took a ride,
pen in my hand and paper at my side;
Which road to I take, I asked myself,
Before I knew it, I had to catch my breath;
I felt like I was over my head,
being a fool will cause me to be dead;
How do I do this and keep it safe,
without the bike getting out of place;
I found myself a parking lot,
It was there I discovered, I could give it a shot;
Left hand on the handle as I ride,
Watching my lane and putting paper on the glide;
I clipped it to my windshield traveling bag,
there it was in place, and I felt glad;
I reached for my pen which was near my chest,
stuck in my riding jacket, and I made a good guess;
What do I write, I asked myself,
Just when I looked up, I was facing an elk;
Where in the world did that come from I looked twice,
 It was an elk picture on the bill board with written advice;
A quick U-turn, I had to make,
or crash the bike into the fence gate;
I turned it around and a poem came to my mind,
and these are the words, I wrote within a grace of time;
Before I can tell you what I wrote,
I must tell you, I almost dropped my pen and its no joke;
The quick U-turn that I made,
I heard the pegs scraping, and then I prayed;
"Pray as I ride" is what I wrote,
Riding and writing is no joke.
Trust me it can be done,
But doing it while making a U-turn is not fun;
What did I write, that rhymed with "ride",
It was, "Lord keep me alive."

What is the Love is the question that we ask,
it cause us to behave as if we are being cast;
There is a part that we must play,
especially if you are going to ride your bike today;
You look outside and clouds you do see,
rain gear in hand thinking it won't rain on me;
No saddle bags for this ride today,
I want to look cool while riding anyway;
So my rain gear I do not take with me as I go,
Mounting my bike and riding slow;
Up at the clouds, I am always looking,
wondering in my mind, do I need to start booking;
Booking where is what I ask myself,
do I go back home or just be aware;
The ride feels good and the wind is in my face,
I can just keep riding all over the place;
I feel a few drops touching my face,
but it does not hurt as I set my pace;
Soaking and wet is what I feel,
but my riding spirit it did not kill;
I got in the zone and there I stayed,
 I even kept giving the biker's wave;
I passed many who rain gear they wore,
 it made me want to stop at the biker's store;
I asked myself a question or two,
what will a real 2wheeltips biker do;
What is the difference between taking a shower or riding in the rain,
one is pleasure and the other one is pain;
I then realized, I had gotten out of the zone,
my mind was thinking about going home;
I challenged myself over and over again,
mind over matter and keep a strong will if you can;
Get in the zone you aren't doing anything wrong,
Get in the zone and it will take the chill from your bones;
Get in the zone and become one with nature,
Get in the zone and this ride will make ya;
It will make you do what, is what I wanted to know too,
It will make you love what you do.

I have read the book,
which got me hooked;
It told of stories and places to ride,
but I found that much of it was jive;
On the road and away I went,
butt in the saddle making a dent;
I moved it around and squeezed it too,
however it was still in pain, and I didn't know what to do;
Every 100 miles, I would take a rest,
felt it was the best thing for my butt I guess;
The question in your mind is always there,
my butt is asking me do I really care;
I see other riders waving with a grin,
as if their butt is sitting on a pin;
Hard riders, soft riders and tough ones too,
butts gets numb and they don't know what to do;
Some keep riding and some seem to stop,
Some buy new seats with gel in a certain spot;
It makes you wonder why we do it so,
When your butt is saying stop, but your mind is saying go;
Which one are we going to trust,
To ride a bike you must be mentally tough.