Conveyances are personal,
hard-working or diversional.
A Lincoln or a Cadillac
will get you to the store and back,
but if you want to forge ahead
in style, go Yamaha instead.
Get out there.
Beneath a Kawasaki sky,
salute a Harley racing by
and think of riders past who gave
the well-met motorcycle wave,
a lowered left extended hand
that signifies, “I understand.”
We’re out there.
As pavement rises into view
it merges with the air, and you
are borne aloft. On curves and dips,
each heightened sense awakens, slips
the shackles of an earthbound form.
In solitude through sudden storm,
you’re out there.
While consecrated miles unwind
like ribbon, your uncluttered mind
encompasses with mellow ease
three hundred sixty-five degrees
of living. Ride, ride on until
whenever. Why? Because the thrill
is out there.