Desert Race by Dman14

Faster, faster, faster my Yamaha goes.
Pushing my bike to its limits.
Flying by lava rocks and thickets.
Blowing by people as if they were dead.
Or they could have just been airheads.
Almost done, the very last day.
Then we’ll hit the highway.
Meantime ill practice up.
Then even my dad will have to play catch up.

Geezer#5-0 (71.217.61.203) -- Sunday, April 8 2007, 01:22 pm

Nice memories!
Nice memories that are building up, riding with your dad. As the years go by and the white hair appear one by one, they will all flow together, into one river. You will look back and say, "That was so much fun! Let's see , what year was that?" I feel this poem, I feel the freedom it gives you, the fun, and the satisfaction. I also feel the pain of lava rocks and thick bushes and the consequence it will give you, if you're not paying attention or have the right protection on. The desert will call you back "Come back!" and you can hardly wait, as you practice and get stronger, to tackle the challenge again. Thanks Dman14, for a wonderful poem. I enjoyed the ride with you. Don't forget to wait for Dad, oh, and grandpa too. Ha,ha, see ya!

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