I'd been pedalin' for hours, hadn't stopped to sniff the flowers; still I hadn't traveled far.
Psychic stress I'd been endurin' made me ask: For cyclo-tourin', is a tadpole up to par?
Lately I'd begun to wonder if I'd made a major blunder when I opted for a trike.
Other cyclists briskly pass me; do those riders all outclass me? Or should I switch to a bike?
Was it just that grass is greener, or are bikes – because they're leaner – indispensable for speed?
Would I be a whole lot quicker on a cycle somewhat slicker, of the lightweight road bike breed?
Was I slow from lack of trainin', mainly wastin' time complainin', and the problem's not the trike?
Was I just a wretched climber, or would hills feel much sublimer... if I only had a bike?
In the general opinion, faster speed's the bike's dominion; there's a price for that third wheel.
But I still felt apprehensive; is the difference extensive, or conversely – no big deal?
When most local riders chatter, their convictions on the matter weigh in heavy for a bike,
But the factual hard data is obscured by more errata than a physicist could like.
An objective bike comparer is a fluke or even rarer; subjectivity's unchecked.
I don't mean to be judgmental, but it's likely accidental if conclusions are correct.
By computer I went seekin' other folks' reviews critiquin' ev'ry type of bike or trike.
On the internet, explorin', I found quite a huge outpourin' of discussion on each bike.
On BentRider's online forum, some folks exercise decorum; some are much more rude and loud.
Some provide astute assistance; some – concerned with coexistence – mostly try to please the crowd.
Though opinions widely varied, motions seconded and carried said, "You need to get a bike!"
But results were inconsistent, with naysayers still insistent, "Don't waste money; keep your trike!"
I was achin' for conclusion of continuin' confusion, all the doubt and angst it sowed...
Still it's hard to be observant when one's appetite is fervent to fly faster down the road.
Being stable, feeling pampered, both are nice – but IF speed's hampered, maybe I should ditch my trike.
Would my travel times diminish, getting faster to the finish... if I only had a bike?
After readin' each advisor, I was sadly not much wiser; it seems no one comprehends:
What I wanted was numeric, valid data, not generic, apple-orange thoughts or trends.
Why are road tests, quantitative, as a concept too creative for bike publications? YIKES!
Are all writers in denial that a standardized time trial is a worthwhile test for trikes?
Was a measly mile per hour all that made me feel so dour? Was it more like three or four?
Is the delta fairly minor – only grevious to a whiner – or too crucial to ignore?
Even if it's pretty major, in the real world I would wager that the guy who rides the trike
Is the most important factor, or to be a bit exacter: it's the engine, not the bike.
After weeks and weeks of huntin', I gave up, at last confrontin' that I'd never find raw truth.
Simple answers sadly lackin', I would have to just get crackin', be my own objective sleuth.
Here's the only way of knowin' how much slower you are goin' when you're ridin' on a trike:
Measure speeds, be scientific – runnin' tests, to be specific – head to head, and trike to bike.
But in order to determine facts refutin' or confirmin' that a tadpole is a slug,
Time and energy are needed, in amounts which far exceeded what I had, so with a shrug,
I stopped thinkin' and decided: Unrespected and derided for preferrin' my old trike,
Tired of dissin' and debasin', life would be more pleasant racin'... if I only had a bike!
At the risk of seeming fickle: I would buy a sleek bicycle, one that's really, really fast.
After years of staunchly spurnin', here at last I'd be returnin' to the two-wheeled troupe at last.
Checkin' local advertisin', with no thought of compromisin', I would soon displace my trike.
Bent on purchasin' or swappin', off to Craig's List I went shoppin' for a skinny-tired road bike.
Very soon I found a seller who seemed like a decent feller – honest, flexible and nice.
I drove over to examine, makin' sure he wasn't scammin', and we settled on a price.
Once around the block, and presto, I co-signed that manifesto statin': Real Men Don't Ride Trikes!
Then I loaded my new velo, feelin' smug and very mellow, thinkin': Less is More; Go Bikes!
As an afterthought, I reckon, or belatedly crosscheckin', I asked, "Why'd you sell this, dude?"
When he answered, I stood blinkin', as I reassessed my thinkin', less ecstatic, more subdued.
"My new tadpole's more appealin', fully loaded, than two-wheelin'... Cyclo-tourin' on a bike
Is a pain – too many wobbles, too unsteady over cobbles – frankly, I prefer a trike.
"Into headwinds trikes are lower; road bike speeds are often slower, and my trike goes twice as far.
Though a bike's a little faster, that hard seat's a damned disaster – I won't miss it; au revoir!"
I drove off, much less elated, but not totally deflated, with high hopes for my new bike,
But... displayin' good discretion, I had still retained possession of my trusty, comfy trike.
On my carbon fiber flyer, my velocity is higher, but the thrill is incomplete.
All too often it's still humblin', bein' passed as though I'm bumblin'; yes, I still am getting beat.
But it didn't help to join; it just irritates my groin... so I often ride my trike.
I'd be feelin' kinda crappy, in discomfort and unhappy... if I only had a bike.
Last updated 5.2.2009