The prep work, the drive and the cleanup as well,
Won't color the tales of adventures we'll tell,
Of riding long miles on smooth trails with good friends
In cool Autumn sunlight. High clouds and soft winds –
Instead of cold rain like the previous night –
Made riding on Friday a special delight.

We rode to the east and encountered some climbs
Which, riding back home, made for really fun times,
With Stephen insisting that no one should brake
While zooming downhill, like his honor's at stake.
We wound up with lunch at the Golden Corral,
Which boosted our waist size as well as morale.

But then, feeling mellow, the sun going down,
A small glitch appeared that made everyone frown:
A finger-sized bare spot on Stephen's front tire.
Since new ones that size would be hard to acquire,
He used Liquid Tape, first three coats and then five,
And fervently hoped that his tire would survive.

The Saturday venue, downriver, is flat;
Not shockingly, nobody seemed to mind that.
The group stayed together, not going real fast,
Just cruising and chatting as scenery passed.
The numbers on mileposts declined, going west,
Until one said "END"; no one voiced a protest.

That end of the Kern River Trail was preferred
To Old Alfred Harrel's, for this, in a word:
A POTTY – not plumbed, but a welcome relief.
This trail's pretty nice, but I do have a beef:
Call boxes and benches, about one per mile?
I'm betting that bathrooms would make more folks smile.

We stopped at Panera for lunch. As we sat,
We saw Stephen grinning; his tire wasn't flat.
The coating he'd used hardly showed any wear,
But it was surprising to hear him declare,
"I'm going to put this on all of my tires."
Someday, I suppose, we'll see how that transpires.

POW Index