On the For Sale page; 23B... column right.
bordered on all sides, and printed... black on white.
it read: I have 2 two helmets of medium size for sale;
I’m certain they will fit you, when you ride over hill and dale.
Both are mid-night blue, silver glitters throughout;
they matched Joe’s motorcycle... the big one we rode about.
there’s also a woman’s jacket, with snaps that close it tight,
keeping out cold, damp air, while cruising along at night.
My jackets size is medium, fits very snug at the cuff,
made of softest cow-hide, in a color nearly buff;
Joe bought chaps and leather boots for me,
Knowing I would look real sharp for all to see.
Oh the times were great... we felt like birds on high,
while riding the concrete ribbons, ‘neath the sapphire summer sky.
we traveled backwoods trails, and numerous country roads;
mingling with nature... Lord only knows it showed.
That’s all behind me now, I have no need for these.
I offer them at a reasonable price; I truly aim to please.
you see... Joe wanted cigarettes, his pack had just run out.
"I’m riding to the convenience store, be right back," I heard him shout.
Out the door into the yard, his big bike roared to life.
how could I know... he would never speak again to his wife.
I waved at him, as he rode down the blacktop drive,
riding without his helmet; the clock showed nearly five.
Time went by... a sirens wail, some poor soul in need.
I continued making supper and paid no further heed.
at six-o-clock, the doorbell rang; an officer with cap in hand.
"ma-am, may I come in; there’s something you must understand.
Your husband Ma'am, had an accident on 64.
he was hit by a speeding car, while leaving a convenience store.
hardly a mark on him, ‘cept the wound to his head;
if only he’d wore a helmet, I'm sorry ma'am... he’s dead."
Joe was all I hoped for, I loved him more than words can tell.
my life was heaven on earth then, but now I’m going through hell.
that was several months ago, I’ve had time to give it thought.
he paid dearly for his pleasures, by not wearing the helmet he bought.
He was only twenty-eight, when his days ended on earth,
what made this decision so difficult; how much pride is life really worth?
cycling was in our life-blood, even when we got a little wild,
but refusing to wear his helmet, he will never know his first child.