This is another bicycle ride invitation from a couple years back... and yes, the "accidents" really happened.


The Bicycling Bully

Copyright © 2009 Kelly Pulley

 

There once was a cyclist named Kelly R Pulley.

It was rumored that he was a bicycling bully.

 

He would ride all around on his ancient red Schwinn.

When he caught cyclists out, he’d try doing them in.

 

He would send out emails to bicycling chumps.

Then he’d lead them down roads with mad dogs and bad bumps.

 

He would often mistreat them and drive them to tears.

Now and then, they’d end up with road rash on their rears,

 

It was said,

as he led one such ride from the rear…

that the riders in front were attacked by wild deer!

 

As the riders involved lay sprawled out on the ground…

the ride leading bully was not to be found.

 

A coincidence?

Maybe.

Or not.

Who’s to say?

But another bike “accident” happened this way…

 

A large pack was out laying down tracks on the Trace.

Soon the pace of the pack reached the pace of a race.

 

It was said that the bully was there in the pack.

Working his way to the front from the back.

 

Then quite suddenly…

Half of them fell to the ground!

Once again,

the bike bully was not to be found.

 

A coincidence?

Maybe.

Or not.

Who’s to say?

But another bike “accident” happened this way…

 

When a rider,

Chris Brubaker,

rode next to Pulley…

(Not knowing that he was a bicycling bully)

 

While descending a hill,

his ride got quite intense.

When his bike left the road…

and he flew through a fence!

 

Soon the other bike riders asked,

“Where did Chris go?”

The answer from Pulley was, he didn’t know.

 

A coincidence?

Maybe.

Or not.

Who’s to say?

But no one’s seen Chris on a bike to this day.

 

Are the rumors for real?

Are they false?

Are they true?

There’s one way to find out.

I will leave that to you.

 

Go with him on a ride in the desolate sticks.

Where there’s no one around should your bike need a fix.

 

And your cell phone won’t work.

Not one bar to be found.

Distant plucking of banjos…

the sole lonely sound.

 

If you want to know,

that’s the place where you’ll find…

Just what sinister thoughts…

ride the roads of his mind.