This poem – well, I mean the one that follows, actually; I'm still managing to avoid that demeaning descent into free verse, at least so far – was originally posted to the IHPVA Trikes Mail List.
As usual with this sort of stuff, I put an all-caps keyword acronym in the message header and then make up something that the acronym might mean. And awa-a-a-ay we go-o-o-o...
NOTE: The keyword FUN is short for Frivolous Unproductive Nonsense. Please make sure that your sense of humor is in at least a moderately free-spinning gear and your chuckling brake is fully released before continuing to read this message!
After a recent (but not last, I'm quite sure) round of discussion on this mail list about 'the ideal gearing for trikes', I was reminded of a year or two ago when another paltry passel of postings in the pervasively prolonged (perpetual?) parade of (perhaps profound but predominantly personal) political positions pertaining to proper proportions of point-to-point procession past pavement per push of a pedal provoked one preeminent participant* from the polar provinces to promptly pen this apparently peevish but pertinently pithy poemlet:
|Bored to tears|
* That's Canadian Bob Stewart, of course
|In that same vein, something kept rattling around my little brain until it grew and morphed into the following (tongue-in-cheek!) heads-up for this year's crop of potential fledgling trikeys who are trying to decide exactly what they should choose in the way of a tadpole drive train:
Caveat for Cogs
Most would-be trikeys want to know
So you look here where we bestow
Like Oprah's chatty TV show,
My take? [Please note IMHO!]
The bottom line, dear John (or Jo),
Last updated Oct 29 2004