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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I took up bicycling because I couldn't run At best it provided scenery and fun. A sense of achievement cresting the hill The fun of swooping like an eagle on the kill. First lesson learned: if you happen to be slow, Old ladies on recumbents aren’t your ego’s foe. If you carry a reputation bubble, someone will pierce the skin: Better to be yourself; it’s not a race to win. I cycled with a group, into an old town in the West We left our bikes unlocked, the place seemed safe and blest. Then the best bike disappeared, a thief had a new ride We chipped in to buy a new one, as the owner cried. I took a wrong turn one time, as the group continued on: I went up a mountain road, by a golden sun. Something seemed wrong and a feeling of unease grew: Then the sign at the summit was a final clue. I learned to stop and check the map; that time is wisely spent. Why lose a silver dollar when you could lose a cent? Turning back from sunk costs is sometimes the way to go. I reached camp by sunset, sore from head to toe. I told a cousin about cycling, it seemed insane to him Just turning wheels, till the empty mind goes dim. I told a cliche of freedom, but the point he couldn't see. His Ford Mustang could get him faster from point A to point B. I learned when I was tired, danger flashed code red: Cutting corners is easy, and easy can mean dead. A pleasant ride can turn suddenly to pain, A bright auspicious morning to a night of freezing rain. A fellow told me of a ride his high school friends once took They reached the Montauk end, no need for a guidebook Them took the ferry to New London, let the pedals rip. Now they're in their sixties, but they still talk about that trip. There's a shrinking world of places safe to go Too many cars, too much crime, and ideology overflow. But for now, it can be a pleasant way to spend some time The open air, the open road, on your shoulders the sunshine.
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