‘Twas the Night before Christmas and all through the garage, not a creature was stirring not even Stegy.
The bikes were all snuggled, warm in their spots, while visions of carbon fiber and high octane fuel danced in their ECM's.
I had just settled in from dodging some birds when all of the sudden from above, I heard a great clatter.
It wasn’t a dry clutch, nor a really loud exhaust, but something different, while familiar in a way.
Across the drying irrigation water I saw the reflection of spoked wheels on the roof. Above I head the squeaking of race boots and the whirring of a generator.
I don’t have a chimney, so I was rather confused. I ran to the downstairs door and burst out on the lawn.
As I turned to the roof I heard the familiar release of velcro and saw the tire warmers being thrown in a trike.
What did I see but a round little man in red and white leathers. He gave me a wink and I heard his fuel pump buzz and then with a flip of his thumb his stead roared to life.
Up off my roof and into the sky I heard him declare “Merry Christmas to all and to all Safe Rides!”
No comments:
Post a Comment