Wednesday, November 14, 2012

An Autumnal Poem

Twas the morning before Tsali and in front of the apartment
gathered numerous bikes of a varied assortment.

Shifty bits, squishy bits and different wheel sizes
prepared for a weekend full of surprises.

Off to the mountains on this crisp autumn morn
four hours on the road to talk about porn.

Three cars in a caravan headed due west
to the part of the state that I do so love best

So many hours and so many miles
but somehow never a shortage of smiles.

For this is how weekend adventures get started
with jokes about dorm rooms and the young broken hearted.

At the trailhead we gladly stretched our stiff legs
and leapt to the dirt for which Stumpy begs.

A ribbon of singletrack next to the lake
just hard enough to make our legs ache.

I hit the first climb with six friends in tow
to ride here and there and then to and fro.

With the wind in our hair and the sun overhead
we forgot about the city from which we had fled.

The peace of the mountains brought calm to the masses
but our firm cycling saddles did give us sore asses.

So back to the cabin and a grill filled with steak
and several gallons of beer for goodness sake.

No trip to the mountains would be complete
without just one joke about what we eat.

There were no crisp veggies for us to partake
but there was more than enough dark and rich chocolate cake.

As the hours grew long and the bottles grew lighter
we lost our ambition to pull an all nighter.

With footy pajamas and soft coon skin caps
we all settled in for long evening naps.

The dawn would bring bacon, fried potatoes and eggs
and hopefully for each of us a fresh pair of legs.

Yes we had a second trail system to ride
as joy is a condition this dude will abide.

But as with all trips this one too would end
so I'll leave you with one final thought my dear friend.

If you're going to cheat on your diet with decadence
make sure not to leave any photographic evidence.

The same person who vowed to be the official trip photog
might be the same one with a humorous blog.

This is certainly neither the time nor the place
to keep an unnamed coach from saving face.

No this is a prelude to a fine post to come
but if you get all the jokes you've already won.

You see those who will enjoy this poem most
were there in the mountains with a most lovely host.

A little Italian with a big happy dream
of a fine autumn weekend with her favorite home team.

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