New spoke sparkle this child idolised,
two wheelers seen on winter streets,
slightly envious, my Clark-shod feet
didn’t push shop-clean pedals prized.
Hand-me-down bike, sibling pre-owned,
chrome carrier rusty, paintwork scratched,
absent twist-grip with numbers attached,
no dynamo, frame paint not two-toned.
Metallic gold unisex bike came next,
my “grease-monkey” brother restyled,
custom-made chopper brought smile:
cow-bars, back-rest, banana seat spec.
Acoustic Harley had no starter key,
trend setter now, not cyclist outsider,
three speed throttle, rapid easy-rider,
street-long wheelies achieved with ease.
Small queues formed to take turns,
round the block races counted down,
born-to-be-wild, Steppenwolf sound:
rebel engine grumble, sweet octane burn…