On this webpage you'll find six opinions in verse;
They start out non-PC, then they get a bit worse.
If you don't find your outfit in one of these rhymes
Please email me, and soon I'll be ringing your chimes.

Are your biking togs drab, subtle, almost demure?
If you dress like the Amish when you go on tour,
There's a chance you'll be seen by a guy in a truck,
But I think you're at risk, really pressing your luck,
If you think that some bimbo in her SUV
Who's applying her makeup while drinking green tea
Will observe, even notice a dull-colored bike.
Hi-viz colors may not be the look that you like,
But they're spotted by drivers who've just barely glanced,
And your odds for survival, I think, are enhanced.

Here in Ventura County, it's almost a rule
That except for late summer, the mornings are cool.
If your ride starts before that ol' sun brightly glows,
You'll be tempted to wear all your heaviest clothes.
But that sun will get higher and warmer, of course;
All too soon you may find that you sweat like a horse.
Folks, unless you remember to plan for that change,
You'll have trouble, and struggle as you rearrange
All those clothes to stay cool in the heat of the day.
Dress in layers, then peel 'em and pack 'em away.

When you ride, if you're wearing a bright blurby print,
Folks may think that your dawdling pace is a sprint.
"He's a racer! Those logos all over his chest
Mean that he's a competitor – maybe the best!"
If you hear some pedestrian singing your praise,
Simply nod and acknowledge whatever he brays.
There's no need to feel guilty for what folks believe;
Just enjoy all those awestricken gawks you receive.
"He looks just like Lance Armstrong – except his white beard,
And that paunch... plus his bicycle looks kinda weird."

If you think John Travolta looked cute in white pants
In those seventies movies where he'd strut and dance,
Please remember: bell-bottoms, especially white
Just don't work on recumbents; if you thought they might,
Bear in mind that those flares act like funnels for bees
Which may not stop to sting till they're way past your knees.
Or the cuffs may get trapped by your chain and your crank;
They'll be blackened and torn all the way up your shank.
Folks, those black lycra tights that Olivia wore
In that last scene of Grease is the look to shoot for.

When I'm riding, the outfit I really prefer
Starts with black lycra shorts; as my feet spin and whir,
They prevent any chafing, they keep out the bees.
But the shorts I like best have a bib, if you please.
Spandex straps on my shoulders help keep things in place,
But they come with a challenge: undressing with grace.
When I heed nature's call, folks, I feel like a chump,
Getting naked to pee in a cramped Andy Gump.
When removing bib shorts, first my helmet, then shirt
Must come off as I struggle to hold back a squirt.

If you ride a recumbent while wearing a kilt,
Be aware as you're rolling along at full tilt,
That a billowing skirt has a whole lot of drag.
And unless exhibition is your special bag,
It's a very good plan to wear black lycra shorts
Underneath your clan tartan for this kind of sports.
If you don't want your shortcomings overexposed,
Please be sure that your kilt stays tucked in, your knees closed.
Oh, and guys, don't be shocked when some Scotaphobe gripes
If you ride while you're flaunting your bags and your pipes.