This poem comes very close to being a fairly factual account of a true experience. It may very well be a once-in-a-lifetime event, but I suspect the Arroyofest will be remembered for a very long time by anyone who was there.

There are things which are legal, but feel
Sorta naughty, as though you might squeal
With delight when they're blatantly done;
They are legal, but still lots of fun.

Picture this: it's a crowded freeway,
Winding down to the heart of LA.
In the left lane police cycles ride,
Full alert, on the job, side by side.

In the right lane the traffic is slow,
And most folks seem content with the flow,
But the middle lane's open and clear,
So we move there and shift up a gear.

Speed builds up as the slope slightly drops,
And we're soon catching up to the cops,
Then I grin 'cause I like going fast.
They look over as we pedal past.

['Wait a second,' you ask, 'Whudyu say?
Wuz that pedal I read? Hey, no way!']

But it's true; we're on trikes, and we fly,
Down the parkway past cops, zipping by.

Four small tadpoles roll on, nose to tail,
But we're not on our way to the jail.
I'm in back and it feels kinda odd,
Much like riding some strange jointed quad.

We change lanes one by one right on cue;
As the traffic builds up, we weave through,
Calling out, "On your left! Hi there, guys,"
So that nobody gets a surprise.

[But you ask, 'What about the police?
Why don't they terminate your caprice?']

Well, remember I told you up front
That we're breaking no laws with this stunt.

['But the freeway!' you blurt once again.]
Yes, that's true; we're on Highway One-Ten.
But one fact that I haven't exposed:
The expressway this Sunday is closed.

All the other folks there ride like us,
Using muscles to motivate, plus
Those policemen are pedaling too,
In their crisp uniforms of dark blue.

Were those envious glances I saw
As we cruised smugly swift past the law?
Did they check out our comfy sling seats,
Thinking how nice they'd feel on their beats?

Other bikers are int'rested too
The first tadpoles that most of them view.
There's a mix of excitement and pride
As we roll through the crowd on the ride.

Pasadena's the start for this gest;
Their arroyo is having a fest.
So the freeway's off limits today
To the cars and the trucks while we play.

Cyclists own this old road for a while;
Everybody is wearing a smile
As he rolls down the hill in a pack,
And it even feels good climbing back.

There are thousands of all kinds of bikes,
And I thought that there'd be lots more trikes.
If you missed it, you missed a real thrill
Rolling fast down that long open hill.

I don't know if they'll do this again,
But we'll be there if we find out when,
'Cause it's one of my definite 'likes'
To pass cops on a freeway on trikes!

Last updated Sep 29 2004