On the LineA Poem by Ted Kniffenfrom the old daysOn the Line Leathered palms twist the throttle revs raise up ... engines roar. Like that genie in her bottle waiting for the flag to soar air pulsating with vibrations below our feet the earth trembles growing atmospheric sensations as two dozen V-Twins rumble. The crowd’s involved and loudly chanting Honda ... Harley ... Harley ... Honda! Hold on a sec ... down there ... in the infield ... is that Peter Fonda Looks like him ... but what’s he saying? I can’t make it out over the noise, I’m not sure ... could be he’s praying to the spectral God of manly toys. The flag goes up ... flashes down, clutches dropped they flash ahead. Six abreast into the first turn one’s in the lead by a thread bike leaned over, steel shoe sliding, holding off the ones behind first one in controlled and gliding gets to pick the perfect line go in deep and come out harder push ahead down the straight need the prize bad, to fill the larder one on the way who just can’t wait. Six riders abreast in the final turn Sliding through the dirt Spinning wheel against the berm Hoping no one will get hurt Riding low above the bars Heading for the finish line Look ahead, it’s not that far, For the one with the fastest time. The flagman drops the checkered flag, Number four ahead by a nose He sits up to create some drag reaching out to catch the rose. © 2021 Ted KniffenFeatured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
91 Views
2 Reviews Added on October 28, 2021 Last Updated on October 28, 2021 Author
|