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BACK IN
THE SADDLE
Once a happy biker,
Living in the biker world,
Did meet with life’s contentions
And to the road, was hurled.
Confronted by the doctors,
His destiny, expressed,
To disengage from biking,
It seemed, ‘twas nothing left.
Destitution, now his ruler,
All happiness, long passed,
‘Till upon his wave-length, leaflets,
From some cheery, nursing staff.
Don’t give up the battle
Or see it as a plight,
NABD will hold the answer,
They’ll help you with this fight.
Don’t be disheartened
And sit in dismay,
You’ll be back in the saddle
Over hills, far away.
A question of time,
‘Till all is together,
Then, return to the biking world,
Happiness, as ever.
Sara Russell ©
Hill
climbing for beginners
Sitting in the darkness of my mind I look but I
can’t find
A single thing on which I can depend
If only I could find a friend
Who feels the pain I bear and
Then together we could dare
To climb a hill I cannot see
In darkness of eternity
Looking in the breaking of your light
I see no darkness of the night
And soon the dew is gone
And in your sunshine I am warm
I take a step and try to be a moment in reality
But I am weak and you are strong and you are with me all day long
Not waiting for you climbing up a hill
I fall and stumble still your hand upon my shoulder
Is so strong and every boulder sings
A song of love and up above your laughter draws me on &on
And ever since that morning there has been no right or wrong,
But love
Jules
©
PRECONCEIVED OPINIONS
A
trip to Wolverhampton, we must venture there today,
We
have but one advantage, not a football game in play.
Whilst
parking up on Cheapside, the disabled drivers plot,
Scowls
and stern expressions were the greetings that we got.
Proudly
our combination, chugged slowly to a halt.
Our
faithful vintage BSA we parked, but not at fault.
Cruel
eyes of opposition, instantly did glare.
Jumping
to conclusions that, "no way should they be there."
"A
motorbike and sidecar, in a disabled bay?"
Motorcycle
prejudice is typical today.
Quite
used to this reaction, it had been this way for years,
Purposefully,
we took our time, no need was there for fear,
Despite
the fact that wardens, checked each car along the line,
Fidgeting
their fingers, in great hope to write a fine.
Written
in their faces, menacing eyes did gleam,
Straight
in at the deep end, not a glance at the windscreen.
It was there within the sidecar, most obvious to view,
The
privilege card, enabling us to park just where we do.
Sarcastically
our smiles exchanged, turned deep inside to laughs,
Certainly
the time had come, to make those two feel daft!
Sheer
habit brought the walking stick to wield on Gren's left shin,
With
smiles of sheer enjoyment, as it pounded on the tin.
As
echoes swirled around their ears, they sank unto their knees,
Embarrassed
to a scarlet red, constant apologies.
Due
to such embarrassment, we're now remembered well.
Exchanging
nods of recognition, as they recall their day of hell.
Quite
easy to remember, is our motorbike of black,
The
Wolverhampton combo, that backfires with such a crack.
Traffic
wardens have declined, pedestrians remain,
Motorcycle
prejudice, gives us a bad name!
Getting
back at the authorities, is delightful to be done,
They
shouldn't jump to such conclusions; just the same as everyone.
Sara Russell ©
RIDE FREE
Argumentative
years of battle,
Seventeen years of no go,
Amounting to which, we resigned to believe,
That Swansea did not want to
know.
Forced to an outfit for transport,
Our fifty three BSA combo,
But over the years, never going away,
The desire, to change back to solo.
After
speaking with nabd at their rally,
Incentives did form and billow,
Correspondence, constructed and posted,
In response, we envisaged, sorrow.
Amazingly, wrong our prediction,
Within days, their request for info.
When intentions were questioned, by telephone line,
A small light, in the headlamp, did glow.
T`was
the twenty sixth day of September,
The submittance of Swansea, bestowed,
Excited, converting the fifty four bike,
Within days, we ride free, to the road.
Sara Russell ©
Stuff Like
That!
Bikers, Bikers, they're all the bloody same,
Look at those disabled guys though, what a bloody shame!
Poor guys, hobblin' about on sticks or, stuck in a chair,
Don't they look a bloody state though, earrings, tattoos and long hair,
Who do they think they are, turnin' up here lookin' like that,
Bent and buggered most of 'em, got bits missin' and stuff like that,
Look funny, talk funny, walk funny, you know, stuff like that,
Must cut down on leather though, with only one leg and stuff like that,
Don't want them on our rally though, puts people off and stuff like that,
I bet they all dribble, need someone to wipe their arses and stuff like that,
What can you do with them ? They'll get in the way and stuff like that,
Expect you have to feed them too, and hold their pint while they drink,
We don't want them on our rally mate ... that's what I think.
What do you mean they're bikers just like us, bikers with grit,
That one aint got a leg to lift over his saddle, so don't give me that shit!
Oh, rides a trike does he, still gets around does he, oh yeah sure!
His trike was adapted by the N.A.B.D. was it, OK, tell me some more
Special controls and seating adapted to suit the riders own needs,
Yeah, but I'll bet it's real slow, he can't do real road speeds,
He does what with it, takes it down the drag strip? Must be bloody mad!
I suppose he's a bit mental is he, land on his head did he ... how sad,
I suppose he's 'handicapped' now is he, uses the orange badge thing,
Jumps all the queues now I suppose, even gets special parking,
What do you mean he doesn't want my pity, I'm only trying to assist,
You're really confusing me mate ... sod it I'm off to get pissed!
OK, I've had a couple of beers now mate, so let's get it straight,
Disabled guys frighten me, don't know what to say when I meet 'em mate,
Don't do anything different, just accept them as being a biker eh?
I suppose you're right mate ... like that guy's a 'triker' eh?
Like it's a cultural thing, we look after our own, and stuff like that,
Bikers are bikers, don't matter what you ride, and stuff like that,
Tell everyone disabled bikers are welcome, and stuff like that,
There's nothin' to be afraid of, we're all bikers, and stuff like that,
Make a little effort and talk to disabled bikers, and stuff like that,
And the N.A.B.D. do bloody good rallies themselves, maybe I'll support them,
Your messages are getting through mate, I'll see my mates and report them,
Sorry if I seemed a bit ignorant, was a bit rude and maybe a little off-hand,
But you see I'm deaf mate ... and I didn't think you'd understand!
BEEMER
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