I came, I saw, I conquered this big hill.
Okay... I moseyed up it, if you will.
The point is, bottom line, that I am here;
So what if I was using granny gear?
Some folks with road bike gearing had to walk
Up parts, or strained so hard they couldn't talk,
As touring bikes with triple rings passed by,
Ascending much more swiftly to the sky.

I will go faster down the other side;
I'll pass some folks, and maybe ping their pride.
Some folks will purposely go very slow,
But hey, who really cares how fast they go?
Some pedal hard, some brake to check our speed.
At 40 MPH, I rarely need
To push it; I might even drag a brake...
There's just so much excitement I can take.

I've stopped here at the top to take a drink.
I hear the other cyclists as I think...
Some say, "I like your trike" – a tadpole type.
Then I hear one derogatory snipe.
I flinch at first, but then just let it go.
It's still a pretty day, and as you know,
Some people just don't get it, I'm afraid,
Don't think about dumb comments that they've made.

There is, of course, derision in the ranks
Of those of us who motivate with cranks:
Some roadies sneer at heavy fat-tired bikes
Who sneer in turn at strange recumbent trikes.
But bottom line, all cyclists share a bond.
This sport of which we're avid – at least fond –
Unites us, makes us feel some link, or sense
We're not so diff'rent – diamond frames and 'bents.

Some cyclists think the type of bikes we ride
Creates a kind of chasm to divide
The roadies from the mountain bikers, plus
Recumbent bikes from trikes... all them and us.
But most of us, I'm very glad to say
Are leaning pretty much the other way;
We all use legs (or arms) to make us go
And here's a simple truth we all should know:

Variety's the spice of life, I think.
When young turks tease us geezers, guys, they wink.
Hey, diff'rences are mostly kinda fun,
No reason for excluding anyone.
In fact it's fun to try each other's toys,
To ride with jocks, then older men or boys,
Plus girls and women, even tandems too.
I love eclectic groups that bike; don't you?

When cyclists pass each other on the street,
Most good guys wave at ev'ryone we meet.
If roadies don't reply, hey that's alright;
They're focused on their speed and staying tight.
But hey, I can't sit here and muse all day;
I've got to get back going on my way.
I check for traffic – only bikes, no car –
And roll out ready to resume the war.

I hear, "Are you as comfy as you look?"
I answer, "Yep, except for what it took
To get my pudgy carcass up this grade."
I smile at this potential friend I've made.
She laughs, "Enjoy the ride down." "Oh, I will."
I push my pedals, starting down the hill.
I pass most bikes but one guy zips by me,
He grins and I grin back, because we see:

It isn't all about who's slow or fast,
Or what type cycle just went flying past.
What it's about is just how good it feels;
What matters most is having fun on wheels.

POW Index