This poem is quite loosely based on some winter riding adventures of our own crew of ADVwriters, who often forget that it’s time to put the bike away when it starts to snow…—Ed.
‘Twas the week before Christmas!
Feeling quite uninspired
An out-of-sorts motorcyclist sat by the fire.
“A winter of snow, the thing that I fear
“An end to all riding—it’s finally here!”
And thus he sat glum, with a mug full of nog
Stoking the fire with branches and logs
When all of a sudden, through flurries and fog
Sunshine broke through! His mind began to jog!
He heard the dull grind of a snowplow at work
He said to himself, “Why complain, act like a jerk
“When I could be off on these newly cleaned roads?
“My old KLR can take quite a load
“I could ride off to town, to buy gifts and a tree!”
And so he ran off, all buzzing with glee.
On with the boots! A heated vest too!
An Aerostich suit (in a most stylish blue)
Heated gloves, fog-free helmet, a neck-warming scarf
So bundled up, if he bent over, he’d surely barf!
But he was safe from the cold, and started his trip
Most cautiously now, tires searching for grip
But with sun and road salt, he avoided a slip
He headed to town, at a sensible clip.
***
Along the road in, drivers glanced at him quick
What made this all-season bike rider tick?
Was he wrong in the head, or hard on the sauce?
But those in the know gave him hearty applause
Wishing that they were out riding too
Instead of car-driving, with thoughts dull and blue.
Missing the carefree weather of summer
Which was still months away, an unfortunate bummer.
***
His trip started well; he bought presents galore
And stuffed them in panniers when leaving the store
And soon they were full of books, toys and baubles
So much that his Kawi developed a wobble.
Most riders would quit, but he was determined
To use this ride as an anti-car sermon
He’d show that a bike was as good as an auto
And even if other folks thought he was blotto
He had one more thing to strap to the back
A small Douglas fir, tied down to the rack
A great Christmas tree, and brought home on the bike!
Now there was a story his buddies would like!
And that’s what he did, and he headed off home.
It was all working out, he was right in the zone!
***
Alas, our hero forgot one big factor
Despite the KLR’s grunt like a tractor
This small Christmas tree caught the wind like a sail
And on his way home, he ran into a gale
He was pushed all around, and getting much colder
So he slowed down his speed, and made for the shoulder
But when he got there, a gust sent him awry
And he low-sided lightly; the tree did untie
He ended up stuck in the conifer’s boughs
While skidding along, nearly hitting a plow
He came to a rest, safe and unharmed
It turned out the tree was his own good-luck charm.
But he thought, sitting glumly through the wait to be towed
“I’ve woodsed it, without even leaving the road.”
***
So now, every Christmas, when snow’s in the air
Our hero suits up without even a care!
Take the Kawi to town? No—he’s done being puerile
Instead, he buys gifts and a tree on his Ural!
