The following poem was written by Neil . It speaks of his joy of riding and satisfaction of a days ride with friends. The next time you see a shooting star know that it is Neil just "roosting" in Heaven...
"Rubicon Rogues"
True story by Neil R. MacDannald
***
To our trails we come back, though it's not for a lack, of other things to do; The adrenaline will pour, as your muscles grow sore, And your mind is born again new.
A days hard ride, with friends at your side, Makes one feel happy, tired, and free; When I get back, and finally hit the sack, I'm always happy I'm me.
***
Rubicon Trail:
This day we had picked, knowing our bikes would get nicked, the legendary Rubicon Trail to ride;
Some fail to return, as we would soon learn, We started, friends side by side;
The air was quite cold, we rode hard we rode bold, Over the rocks, boulders, and shale;
We rode down this path, and realized it's wrath, This is a very difficult trail;
As it started to rain, not one would complain, There was too much fun to be had;
We should have turned-round, rain started to pound, I guess we're just crazy a tad;
From the sky came hail, as we rode that trail, That horribly tough rocky trail;
But no one turned, though all were concerned, That to get back we might fail;
Colder it got, but we're a tough lot, I thought as it started to snow;
Colder still colder, with snow on my shoulder, And the wind started to blow;
We stopped our troop, just to re-group, We sheltered under a tree;
The storm raged, “an all nighter" I gauged, as it hammered my friends and me;
“Just another mile”, I said with a smile, And fired RMX my venerable steed;
One said “Wait!! It is getting real late, and I've crashed and started to bleed”;
Then he cranked up his ride, and stood by its side... You see of unwritten code he did think;
“I can make this ride”, he said with great pride, Even though he was on the brink;
Half Way Point:
At shelter halfway, I was heard to say, “Let's eat, and check our bikes”;
Our return would be slow, through wind driven snow, I wished our tires had spikes;
I was chilled to the bone, but I was not alone, And the daylight quickly passed;
It need not be said, we all knew and we dread, This cold night could be our last;
One began to pout, as we started out, But no one really could blame;
All knew it was far, back to the car, and a hot meal by the fire's flame;
The going was rough, even our best had it tough, And wind drove the cold like a spike;
One of us crashed, when offered food stashed, He just cursed and restarted his bike;
Below the big hill, I sat with a chill, It was miles back to our camp;
"Go on past, and I'll ride up last", I said as I sat there all damp;
Everyone helped push, as we climbed through the slush, And cheered when we crested the hill!;
But the mood turned grim, as we gazed round the rim, We had many miles to ride still;
We finally made camp, and pushed up the loading ramp, Our bikes in the back of the truck;
Wow what a feat, while beginning to eat, On our side we had plenty of luck;
Of riders with less will, we hear stories still, They begin but they do not return;
We just ate our hot meal, and spoke of that hill, And watched the warm fires burn;
As we drove down, and headed toward town, I reflected on our trip;
To come home I was lucky, riding gear all mucky, I offer this tip;
Be yourself and have fun, in the rain or the sun, Enjoy beauty and just smile;
Support your friends, be true to all ends, And your life will be full and worthwhile;
To our trails we come back, though it's not for a lack, of other things to do; the adrenaline will pour, as your muscles grow sore, And your mind is born again new;
A days hard ride, with friends at your side, Makes one feel happy, tired, and free; When I get back, and finally hit the sack, I'm always happy I'm me.
True story.
