If you want to ride early before it gets hot

And have time for the honey-do list your wife’s got.

 

Come join me on Saturday morning at 8.

Bring your gear, bring your bike, bring a friend. Don’t be late!

 

Thompson’s Station Depot is the place where we’ll start

‘Cause riding is fun and it’s good for your heart.

 

We’ll pump up our tires then we’ll jump on our steeds.

We’ll fly down the roads at fantastical speeds.

 

Wearing bright colored spandex of every hue,

Cows will stare from their fields as we flash out of view.

 

We’ll glide up the hillsides then down them we’ll shoot,

We’ll squeal, and we’ll shout, and we’ll holler and hoot!

 

The miles will fly by and we’ll wish there were more

Till our energy fades and our rear-ends grow sore.

 

Then the squealing will stop and the moaning will start.

First a little, then more, then complaints off the chart!

 

And the insults will fly, all directed at me.

But I won’t hear a word and your glares I won’t see…

 

My ears filled with ringing, my eyes burn with sweat.

You’ll swear that we’re lost, lost forever you’ll bet.

 

The last glimmer of hope is about to be lost

And the breakfast you ate is about to be tossed…

 

In the distance we’ll make out that bright red caboose.

The weight of our imminent death is cut loose!

 

As we load up our bikes, bodies twitching with pain

We’ll agree that we can’t wait to do it again.