Volcano Run part 1 - The Ride to the Mountain
We ventured out one summer morn
to meet up with the rising sun,
the trip began at Castle Rock;
we joined the others for the run.
Inside a truck stop restaurant
the club debated where to go,
some wanted south to warmer lands,
the others north to find some snow.
We decided north and south were out;
most choices were too far to roam.
We voted to go east instead,
all wanting to stick close to home.
Mount Saint Helens made our list
and looming Mount Rainier did too,
we flipped a coin; let fate decide
which roads we would be riding through.
I picked that coin out of the air
and slammed it down just like a boss.
I raised my hand and all could see
that Mount Saint Helens won the toss.
We topped our tanks and checked the tires,
then lined the bikes up in a row.
One final check determined that
this biker run was set to go.
The Pres pulled out and took the lead
His panhead chopper screaming loud
The rest of us filled in the line,
the one percent, the few, the proud.
With colors flapping in the breeze
and engines gleaming chrome and steel,
the club was on the road again,
expressing all these things we feel.
The knucklehead was running smooth;
with you snug up against my back,
we made the perfect picture love,
you clothed in white and me in black.
We wove around for miles and miles,
until we claimed the mountain crest,
then, near the famous lava tubes,
we finally stopped to get some rest.
We pitched our tents and made some food
then we decided to explore
the holes that held the lava tubes,
the sulfur springs and so much more.
When we were done it was full dark
the only light a crescent moon
so we returned to find our tents;
the morning light would find us soon.
We washed ourselves and changed our clothes,
then settled in to spend the night.
Near dawn we woke and 'saddled up'
prepared to ride before first light.
Copyright © Russell Dodson | Year Posted 2025
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