***
To our trails we always come back, though it's not for a lack,
of other things to do;
The adrenaline will pour, as your muscles get 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 am 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,
as our bikes it thrashed like hell;

As it started to rain not one would complain,
there was too much fun to be had;
We should have turned-round, the rain started to pound,
I guess we're just crazy a tad;

From the sky came hail, as we rode that trail,
that horrible, 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 venerable RMX, my steed;
One said wait!! it's 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;

We were chilled to the bone, I started to moan,
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, 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,
several miles we had to ride still;

We finally made camp and pushed up the 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;

***
To our trails we always come back, though it's not for a lack,
of other things to do;
The adrenaline will pour, as your muscles get 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 am me;

***

True Story...