ROUTE 66
BY
CAROL VARDY

 

Mark is a dreamer

he dreams every night that

one day he’ll be the proud owner

of a beautiful bike.

He’ll wear black leather boots with his

black leather trousers, which of course are skin tight.

The girls will admire his pecs and

tattoos on his arms and his neck.

After dreaming all night, he goes to work

on his dad’s old bike.

He fancies being a Hell’s Angel but

his hair isn’t long and he’s no facial hair, anyway,

his Mother would hit him

and that wouldn’t be fair.

 

Work over, he goes for a ride, stops at a pub for

a pint and a bite, there he meets Gloria, the landlord’s

ex wife, she shares the same dream as Mark, much

to his delight.

So, with the payout from her divorce they

order the bike of their choice without feeling any remorse.

No Japanese upstart for them, noisy and wild,

with its four cylinders screaming as it covers the miles, no

screeching sound when the exhaust scrapes the ground.

 

The one they desire is strong like Goliath

with twin pots that throb

it’s steady and strong, there’s non to compete,

as proudly they go to collect the keys.

Their ‘Harley’ is waiting, the King of all bikes

they hug and they kiss full of delight.

 

The black paint work is gleaming the chrome work shines bright,

a real work of art, she’s perfection on wheels

they stroke her they pat her, stand back and admire her

with deep leather seats Gloria can relax there.

 

They dress in their leathers, black for him red for her

Pull down their visors, take a deep breath,

they can’t believe it’s theirs.

A twist on the throttle, hear that deep hearted roar

It rumbles then they cruise oh so slowly,

the moment they’ve dreamed about as finally arrived,

they pinch each other,

excitement gleams in their eyes.

 

Heads held high full of pride they cruise through

Towns and villages, attracting attention with their valuable prize.

 

Mouths are agog, envy written in folk’s eyes.

 

They make friends with a large group of bikers and

cruise over the ‘Cat and Fiddle’ what a blast, now

there’s only one thing that can surpass, it’s to travel en masse

down England’s answer to Route 66.

It’s that long road to Skeggy, what a gas.

 

© Carol Vardy 2007

 

 

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