Twas the night before Thursday when all through the shop,

My DH bike was a dry mess, no oil, not a drop.

My tools and my parts were hung on my workbench with care,

In the hopes that soon Sandy Claws’ brown truck would be there.

I laid back in my chair watching my clock tick with dread,

As the beers I had just chugged, were buzzing my head.

And after cleaning the garage; weary me, I started to nap

The alcohol in my blood, drained my will, I’m a sap.

When suddenly out on the street arose such a clatter,

I fell out of my chair and clambered out front to see what was the matter.

Kicked open the front door, and flew out in a flash

Just then up flew the truck’s rolling door with a crash

Out came a brown box, set on the ground, I took pause

It was my new Breezer bike, delivered by old Sandy Claws!

I signed the digital pad, just scribbled my name

Smashed my toe in the hurry, but really, who’s to blame?

I grabbed wrenches and rags, and tore open the box

Set the bike on the floor and exclaimed “oh yeah this thing rocks!”

I started tearing off the packaging styrofoam and cardboard,

Getting closer and closer, I wasn’t the least bit bored

The bike on the floor, I started my work

My wife can make dinner, I know, I’m a jerk

I assembled the parts, with patience and care

The brakes, handlebars, ready to ride, do I dare?

I rolled her out of the garage and onto the street,

Oh what a feeling, I was off of my feet

Riding with such smoothness, the gears, a feeling I’d forgot

What a great idea it was, this bike I had bought

I pedaled back to my home, and rolled into the shop

Propped my bike against the wall, and sat down with a plop

I sat there and stared at this new bike with glee

I couldn’t believe it, it was all mine, just for me

And the passion was rekindled, for a ride in the woods

No shuttles, no gas, just my legs and my lungs, my natural goods

For the ride on a cross country trail, crashing through puddles, dirty socks

Was forgotten in time, for downhilling through rocks

A return to my roots, using my pedals, a ride that takes work

I thought to myself, my poor wife with my dinner, yeah I’m a jerk

I clicked off the light to my shop with a sigh

Stepped into the house and whispered, goodbye

For the weekend would come for us, in time we would ride

But this time my wife, could come on the trip without fearing she’d die

As the cross country trails I had left behind long ago

Were calling me back, a return to myself, now I know

So the story here ends, or so it would seem

But it really just begins, it is like a waking dream

We ride off together, the two of us, a pair

In spite of its challenges, life can sometimes be fair

A small gallery of images can be found here

-unrealtrip