My Fat Boy

fat boyTurning the grip thumbs clad in leather to give them grip. Roar of the hog as the valves open, my Fat Boy heading for the open road. Sleek and black with gleaming chrome, seat laid back engine throbbing and starting to groan. Iron horse, my trusted steed leaves the smog of the town at good speed

Out on the vast open road, this iconic hog hauling its load, pounding the highway on empty roads. Rider clad leather and jeans the mirrored sunglasses look so mean. Cut off waist coat and tea shirt give way to heavy tattoos to suit. Bandana covers half my face, people are scared when we roll up to their place.

Wind and rain in my face, pick up the pace, the hog glides along with beauty and grace. With gleaming chrome and engine drone the Fat Boy takes me a long way from home. Wheels turning exhaust burning, see the yearning on the faces we meet.

Rider and steed, cow boys in need, on the open road the feeling that can’t be beat. me and my Fat Boy look so neat, my iron horse with its leather seat.

In My Car

battered car

In my car that’s taken me far, along miles and miles of tar. I sing to the radio and tap on the wheel, press on the break to bring it to heal. It takes me to work and to play, and sometimes takes me out for the day. I don’t want to change it in any way. I just want my old car to stay. Dented and battered it never will end, for it is indeed a good friend.

It’s not the trend but I can pretend and make do and mend, cos my car will go far on this tar even though the number plate says R. oh where would I be without my friend, I love my battered old car.