Shoei protects your thinking bit, from wind and rain and bruise
A single, twin or two stroke, sports tourer or a cruise
None that have been there, can understand the lure
Of tarmac, oil and rubber and, the wind that blows so sure.

But some of us are challenged, in body, mind and head
First the hair goes, then the joints, and then the dreaded lead
But struggle into leathers still, and ride the country road
A few wee pints, a breakfast full, and revise the Highway code.

Yet not so long ago we were, all stallions in our prime
Indestructable and, self acknowledged, masters of our time.
Some remember Sheene and Roberts, and Assen, the last bend.
But one has gone, the others son, is racing to the end.

But we will still be here, propping up a bar
And enjoying all the tales of old, and how we missed THAT car!
And commenting on leathers kit, and helmets, how we bore
Why all those years ago we started, on two wheels, instead of four.

My visor starts to cloud a bit, or is it just twilight?
My reflective jackets dimmed a bit, or perhaps its just my sight ?
The petrol gauge reads two miles left, the oil gauge flashes red
I should have had a service done, or at least, tightened the head.

Slowly, surely, the lights go out, and the motor slows to stop
Like those traffic lights stuck still on red, high up, on Dulais top
And the bike falls slowly, gracefully, to the tarmac where its born
And the life from Harley, Triumph, Honda, all, is slowly, torn.

So when you sit there, looking down, admiring all below
Spare a thought for us mere mortals, who ride for just the glow
The wind is fresh, the summer sun, a warmth about our face
Today the road, the starting line, tomorrow we end the race.

Andy Irving

2/2009