POKEY PATROL POESY
When our cycling group sets out
These are some things we talk about:
Where we will ride, to which pit stops,
Might we get winds or sudden drops
In air temp, or more likely sweat…
Have they repaved that bike path yet?
Where we’ll have lunch and who will lead,
How far we’ll ride and at what speed…
That last parameter’s the one
That sometimes is more funk than fun.
Some folks that ride with us are slow…
PLEASE NOTE: I have to let you know
That group includes my wife and me.
Yes, others say that we should be
On trikes with names that start with e
(Propelled by electricity.)
However, and at least so far,
Although we’re aging we both are
Content to ride unmotorized.
I hope that readers aren’t surprised.
Though some, I know, will be annoyed,
We’re very happy to avoid
New complications, added pounds,
More failure modes and whirring sounds.
We’ve heard the sales pitch more than once,
As we’ve been pressured from all fronts:
“Those uphill grunts that you now dread
Seem almost level, plus we’ve sped
To Rincon Beach from Emma Wood
In forty minutes. Guys, you could
Be riding faster, way more miles.”
We’ve listened patiently with smiles…
Then – with diplomacy and tact –
I counter with this simple fact:
We’ve triked for years, and we have learned
That time on trikes and fat cells burned
Determine each trike ride’s success.
If riding 15 miles or less
Ticks all our boxes for good times,
Who needs more miles and steep, grunt climbs?
We don't commute; we don't compete.
We ride in coastal mist or heat,
But don't go out in rain or sleet.
Some slowpokes often pause to greet
Folks walking with intriguing dogs.
Long uphill slopes requiring cogs
The size of saucers don't appeal
Of course, but make leg muscles feel
Worthwhile, plus climbing those big hills
Most often prefaces wild thrills,
'Cause what goes up will have a blast
Returning downward, smooth and fast.
A balanced tadpole swoops and zooms,
While heavy motors on front booms
Are burdens in quiescent state,
Just handicaps – misplaced dead weight.
If using pedal power feels
Much harder than on trikes with wheels
Propelled by 13 groups of cells
I challenge anyone who tells
Me we should somehow feel deprived
Compared to those who have arrived
Completing loops three times as far.
We’re happy… as we hope they are.
But some folks just don’t understand…
A few seem almost to demand:
Since trikes with motors seem to be
So right for them, each trike they see
Without one spurs religious zeal
To gain a convert; it’s surreal
To watch and listen to the show.
They preach, but they don’t seem to know:
Folks who ride tadpole trikes are not
Enthused by fads or what is HOT!
Each one of us, I have to say
Is prone to going his own way.
If he were eager to conform
And follow fashions – hot or warm –
You’d never find him on a trike;
Folks, he’d be riding an e-bike.
So… here’s the moral of this rhyme:
Let us be slow; don’t waste your time
With efforts to persuade, harangue,
Or make us think a new Bafang
Would make us happier; just chill…
Some day, I guess, perhaps it will,
But now we’ll just keep riding slow
With smiles, however fast we go.