CMG’s 2020 Christmas Poem

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It’s become a bit of a tradition here at CMG for Mark to add a bit of brightness to the shortest days of the year with a little Christmas poem. Of course, all of us here wish each of you and your families good health and prosperity no matter what you choose to celebrate.
-DW.

It came upon a midnight clear

It came upon a midnight clear,
That glorious sound of old:
The revving of an inline-four,
A bike starting up in the cold.

Pistons are pumping, the valves are well tuned,
The engine is ready to go.
But the riding’s not fine when it reads minus-nine
And the roads are all covered in snow.

Still in the frozen air it runs,
Its idle steady and smooth.
Its rider will fight against winter’s cold bite,
And its tires are warm and well grooved.

But where to ride, where not to slide
On roads that are slick now with ice?
There’s nowhere to visit, we’ll just have to miss it,
The garage will have to suffice.

This is the challenge of every year
For riders who just want to ride.
With Covid it’s worse, it’s like we’ve been cursed
And forced now to lay up inside.

There are movies to watch, and books we can read
And magazines, print and online.
But we cannot replace the warm wind in our face
With a video post on FortNine.

So we dress for the winter and start up the bike
And hear its engine sing,
And we stay safe inside, where we know we can hide
For three months till the start of the spring.

And then we’ll ride out on roads that are clear,
not covered with salt or with sand.
And we’ll recall our passion with leather-clad fashion,
On two wheels, all over the land.

No virus for us! With fresh air and distance
Our bikes will be safe in our bubble.
We’ll keep Covid at bay as we ride fast away
From the spreaders that get us in trouble.

But that’s in the spring, and winter comes first.
From salt and from ice our bikes hide.
And when there’s no snow, we’ll be ready to go
With Canada Moto Guide.

5 COMMENTS

  1. Your poem is lovely,
    And filled me with cheer,
    It made me smile,
    In a Covid-filled year !

    …A Merry Christmas to All,
    And to all a Good Night !

  2. Unashamedly stolen:
    ‘twas the night before Christmas at the motorcycle store.
    The sales clerks were gone; they’d locked up the door.
    Back in service, the tools were hung with great care,
    The floors had been swept, the workbenches bare.
    Sales had been brisk, filling staff with elation
    As they headed down south for their winter vacation.
    The new shiny sportbikes had all been sold out,
    And all that was left was an Indian Scout,
    A Norton Commando, a Rudge Multi too,
    And a black BMW R32,
    A Vincent, a Matchless, and Velocette,
    And a drippy old Brough that wouldn’t start on a bet.
    “This stinks,” said the Norton. “We’re just as fine
    As those Japanese bikes the kids buy all the time.”
    “You’re right,” said the Vincent as he grew agitated.
    “All I need is to get my back tire inflated,
    Then I could compete with the best of `em yet.”
    “Me, too! I’m still fast,” cried the old Velocette.
    “If someone was handy, somebody smart,
    They’d know how to fix us and get us to start.”
    And so while they grumbled and whined and complained,
    They didn’t notice a visitor came.
    He was dressed all in leather, black head to toe,
    And his helmet had reflective stickers that brightly glowed.
    His beard was snow-white. It reached to his chest.
    How he got in the door was anyone’s guess.
    He looked them all over. “Merry Christmas!” he said.
    “Are you fellows available to pull my big sled?”
    “Who, us?” laughed the Matchless. “We’re rusty and old.
    Nobody wants us, that’s why we’re not sold.
    Kids want electric, not our old kickstarts.
    These young punks think we’re just bikes for old farts.”
    “My Lucas headlight hasn’t worked well in years,”
    Said the Rudge. “And my gearbox is missing some gears.
    I’d be much obliged if you’d look at my choke.
    And the earthing brush in my magneto is broke.”
    “My mix is too rich, I think,” said the Beemer.
    “Does anyone know how to set the carb leaner?”
    Then Santa said, “Hey, stop the whining, you guys.
    You’re legends and history in many men’s eyes.
    So what if you’re rusty and don’t look brand new?
    Hypermotards and `Busas wouldn’t be here without you.”
    Then the vintage bikes lights started glowing with pride.
    And the Norton Commando said, “Let’s take a ride!”
    “I’m ready, let’s go, come on!” said the Brough.
    “Let’s get it in gear and show `em our stuff.”
    They took to the road, their pipes roared like thunder.
    And Santa sat back in his sled, filled with wonder.
    And he said as he watched them race into the night,
    “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a safe ride.”

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