‘Twas The Ride After Christmas (Hannukah, Etc . . . )

‘Twas the ride after Christmas, and all on the street
Was the sound of tires humming, and the pedalling of feet.
Camelbaks were strapped to strong backs with care,
And the cool wind was blowing through helmets and hair.

The children were riding their new BMX bikes,
And Auntie Mae brought a turkey on her recumbent trike.
Father was in spin class, with new SPD cleats,
And Sally was rockin’ the trail, listening to mad hip-hop beats.

While visions of sugar plums danced in their heads,
The riders were tucking their frames into bed.
Each weld was finished with Taiwanese hands,
Made of ti, carbon, and steel from faraway lands.

Just then there arose such a great clatter,
It was like a helmet hitting pavement, much more than a splatter.
It was the horns of great ships, come far from the East,
With containers full of Niner and Giant and Orbea bikes for a feast!

There were white ones and red ones and blue ones to ride,
There was nowhere for the trail or the pavement to hide!
We spread out over the land and took over the towns,
On our commuter, and racing, and trail riding hounds.

‘Twas the day After Christmas, and all through the land,
Cyclists were cycling through mud, rain, and sand.
Every cheek was apple red, and each face had a smile,
Because there was nothing need doing,
But ride mile, after mile, after mile.

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