I rolled into town, late one day,
I'd been riding fast and far,
In my favorite friendly hide-away.
I bellied up to the bar.
An old biker invited me to his table to sit,
so I grabbed my beer and and my shot.
I walked on back to talk a bit,
and I told him, "Thanks a lot."
"I've been meaning to come and talk with you,
I'm a biker poet you see,
I'm always lookin' for things that ring true
To set my reader's minds free."
"You've been riding now for, what, fifty years?
And I figure you've seen it all.
Been there, done that, shed all the tears
you've answered most every call."
"Now poets, they reach for the mysteries of life.
They seek to know what life's all about.
All this loving and leaving, this joy and strife,
Can you help me figure it out?"
He smiled and said,"Son you're so full of shit,"
Then he took a long, deep swallow.
"The truth is right there if just you look for it.
Your words, they just seem to ring hollow."
"It's big titted women that make the world go
Smooth tequila gives meaning to love,
Takes money to make your way through life's big show
Fast bikes show you what you're made of."
"Fast motorcycles, and big chested gals ,
hard cash and a jug of good booze.
If you have all those things, and a few good pals
You can live your life just as you choose."
He finished his drink and walked out of the bar.
I thought, maybe, just maybe he's right.
He was waiting for me as I walked out the door
and together, we rode into the night.
Now, when I'm riding with some of my pals,
Or writing, wondering what words too choose.
I think of fast bikes and big titted gals,
hard cash and a jug of smooth booze.
Copyright 2007 Bill "uglicoyote" Davis
It was a hot and windy day
and I was feeling quite beat down
when I stopped along the way
in that little nothing town
I pulled up by the pumps
and filled her up with gas.
Three old-timers on their rumps
in front, just nodded when I passed.
I went inside to get cooled down
Then got myself Coke
I went back out, looked around,
and lit myself a smoke.
At my bike those three had gathered round,
you could see stories were being told.
They examined her from top to ground
then glanced longingly down the road.
One turned to me, stuck out his hand
I shook it and he said,
"We, all three ,fought for this here land
as did many friends, now dead."
"We all came back from World War Two,
The three of us ", he said.
"We weren't quite sure what we would do,
when in entered in our heads."
"We'll all get motorcycles, we thought,
and to this we all agreed.
War surplus bikes were readily bought,
They became our Iron Steeds"
"Jim and Tom had old Harley 45's;
I bobbed an old surplus Indian.
Riding those bike made us feel alive,
like we were back home once again."
"We rode those bikes from coast to coast,
and then back around again.
We did all the things we had missed the most
when we were off in that foreign land."
Then they went on to tell their tales,
of young women wooed and tossed.
Of a bar fight and a night in jail,
of memories they'd thought lost.
You could see the twinkle in their eyes
as they remembered those long lost roads.
As they told of mountains, bright blue skies.
and riding in rain and cold.
When, departure time came for me,
each took my hand in turn.
The last said. "My son, ride free,
for there's one thing I've learned."
"If you love the freedom of road,
riding toward that endless sky.
Remember always the debt that's owed
to all of those who've died."
"You have the freedom of the ride,
oh wondrous things you'll see,
but the ghosts will be there at your side,
who purchased your Liberty."
As I rode away, those three old vets
just disappeared from view.
Impossible, I thought, and yet...
The words they spoke rang true.
So now, three ghost's ride at my side,
together toward the setting sun.
In freedom and the wind we ride
On remembered roads we run.
Copyright 2007 Bill "uglicoyote" Davis
Keep On Keepin' On
Songs of the Open Road