An American Ride
A
short time back just me and a pard
Set
out to take a ride the decision weren’t hard
The
bikes were all tuned which of course was the norm
The
moon was shining bright and the evening was warm
With
rain gear in the bags in case it got wet
Our
leathers for the chill and we were all set
I
blasted down the drive and he did the same
We
each could hear the blacktop calling our name
Without
a destination our machines split the night
Knowing
we’d return by the break of daylight
We
cruised past dawn the pipes singing our tune
Decided
stead of turning we’d ride until noon
Noon
came and went as westward we sped
And
suddenly the Tennessee line was ahead
Flying
like banshees goin' our own way
We
could make Memphis by the end of the day
Memphis
was fine but the road was the best
So
our rubber-shod horses kept taking us west
A
jog to the north and we poured on the coal
St.
Louie by lunch was our new goal
Right
by The Arch west again was our way
Kan-City
by supper was the plan for the day
We
planned to turn back at the Kansas state line
But
we got there early both still feeling fine
The
day was still light so we were northward led
Neither
us nor our cycles were ready for bed
St.
Jo city limits came and went from our sight
We
were well into Iowa when we stopped for the night
In
our bedrolls by the river as we lay there we knew
There’d
be no turning back on this ride for us two
Rolling
on ever northward we were feeling our best
And
once we made South Dakota we’d be headin on west
A
left at South Dakota with the prairie out front
Figuring
where we were headed is no big stunt
Rolling
back on our throttles hair flying like manes
We’re
face in the wind two wildmen untamed
We
crossed the Missouri our goal almost won
And
put the Badlands behind us still chasing the sun
As
if pushed by demons we rode into the dusk
The
black Hill at sunset gave us both a big rush
Thirty
miles farther hearts are happy and light
Twenty
five more minutes riding into the night
It
was like coming home for two prodigal sons
We’re
on Main Street in Sturgis and the party’s begun
The
bikes are kept ready saddle bags always packed
Spirits
all primed for a wander attack
When
next the road calls we’ll be riding again
Laughing
at the Devil our hearts in the wind
© William G. Carrington -- 12/5/2000