I had a silly bike moment in 1979 on my trusty Motobecane. Even worse, I went home afterwards and wrote a silly poem about it...
WAUKESHA COUNTY
The cog's clicking measures the green blades which go by so fast I can see every one The road curves ahead I squeeze the brake a hair drop my right knee to bank on one-inch tires The whir gives the crickets much confusion They don't know what I mean
In a valley of elms four marble tombstones mark the graves of four Wisconsin settlers The perfect parallels of surrounding crops make life seem simple Sweat runs down my face into my mouth and I spit the salt on dandelions
Stopping in interest of two mares I feed them a weed scratch their noses and lean against an unlikely wire The voltage feels like a sledgehammer in my chest It dances through my arm and lights a spark on the horse's nose I am numb until dust settles from scattered hooves
Current passes through
the handlebars into the
metal frame
the pedals
my feet
my hands again
I race home
under some farmer's charge