ride report by peter
(i’ll admit i spent way too long on this and it got a bit loose towards the end. just as long as mr bonner doesn’t try to correct me and give me a mark towards my year 12.)
THE RIDER FROM SPR
there was movement at the jetty, for the word had passed around
that the colt from cannondale would be away,
gone south to see the season, he was not here for the sprint,
so all the bikes had gathered to the fray.
all the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
had mustered from their homesteads overnight,
for the rouleurs love hard riding where the wild sprinters play,
and the bikes stripped down to make them extra light.
there was brendan back from kalgoorlie, home for the christmas day,
hard as nails who cannot ride it slow,
few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up
and he would ride wherever bike and man could go.
and jerry of the city beach came down to lend a hand,
no better rider ever held the reins,
for never bike could throw him while riding on the road,
he is handy in the hills or on the plains.
chris was up from hilton way, he’d made the weary trip,
the old steed out, despite the sunny day.
and james, although his pocket size, is handy in a sprint,
dressed all in black to show that he’s not gay.
christophe, who hails from distant lands, where riding is not flat,
was primed to give the group a red hot go.
hamish, from another pack, was basking in the sun,
when he’s in front it never will be slow.
the summer sun had bought the crowds and fillies out to play,
eight fronted up today to taste some pain.
lorriane was training hard and fast to show she’s at the top,
the girls from fleet elite were proved again.
to start the ride there were about, forty riders on their mounts,
we headed south to booragoon with ease.
once we hit the shelley shores the pace went up a notch,
with riders off the front each time to tease.
dressed in yellow ‘twas plain to see, i followed an attack,
there was a bang, my faithful steed went lame.
i thought that she had thrown a shoe so dangerous at this speed,
not so, but a mechanical just the same.
the sprint now over, the pack regrouped,
the next one called us on.
once we hit bannister road the pace it was quite high,
the fast boys to the front, their muscles called upon.
the cruise towards yon cannington was easy on the legs,
it gave us time to chat.
for after the excess of christmas day,
it stops us all from getting fat.
christophe, he did the bolt once the lights were green,
we let him get ahead.
some did make way to chase him down,
we cruised along instead.
it seems we gave the man from france, way to much room to move,
it looked like he had finally got away.
no matter what we threw at him or who was on the front,
the gap was there and he would make us pay.
the ride was done, the bikes all parked,
we rested weary legs.
the coffee’s came, short black, latte,
who ordered breakfast eggs?
