h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Have you ever seen Benjamins' scoot?
You can tell that it cost him some loot
Chrome fairing and bags
Gas tank and tags
With a boss stainless steel frame to boot!

While cruising along in a fog
Thinking 'bout my best friend the dog
It occurred to me
That I'll never see
Him again if I don't dodge that log

Wet, tired, and in no mood to talk
To the pay phone, he did walk
It was too dark to see
When his Harley and he
Took a trip off the end of the dock

Wet gravel roads are a menace
On two wheels it's like serving a pennance
Ten MPH tops
Flying mud, frequent stops
Or we slide into some farmers' old fenence

Up early and ready to ride
The sun's making it bright outside
Miles of road ahead
As I spring from my bed
And race to my old Super Glide

Mostly Harmless is a nice place to hide
When the weather is nasty outside
When out comes the sun
I'll say "It's been fun"
But now it is time for a ride

The day off. The sun's bright and high
The bike's shined and ready to fly
Gas in the tank
A few bucks in the bank
The open road beckons. Bye, bye



YB

Aghast, wiping sweat from his brow
In the road lay a bloody, dead cow
Not his first road-kill
On a motorbike, still
To plow into a cow with your Kaw, Holy Cow!

Touring season's coming up fast
Campouts are always a blast
Bonfires at night
Rodeos by daylight
And stories of adventures long past

While dreaming of touring Botswanna
Immersed in its' flora and fauna
Deserts and streams
I woke from my dreams
To find me and my bike in a sauna

Attention to driving, indeed
While riding's a primary need
Forget wild Botswanna
If you don't wanna
To bother a sweatty old Swede

The Swedish are kind, to a degree
The nicest folk you'll ever see
But crashing your bike
Into a sauna would like-
ly tend to make them a bit angry

This relic I'm riding is creaking
As fast down the road I am streaking
It's starting to cough
The brake lever fell off
The throttle is stuck and I'm freaking

Such a feat of limerickal form
Is far in excess of the norm
Do you realise your score
Is near fifty and more?
What a difficult act to perform!


Congratulations

Never before did I see
A biker as grungy as he
His chopper beneath
Caused the bugs in his teeth
But the black eye was done by a bee

His lady-friend was nearly worse
The result of some horrible curse?
Teeth? There were none
On her hip was a gun
On her shoulder, a solid steel purse

They entered the place and sat down
Then ordered some lunch with a frown
Wolfed down the food
Said it was good
Hopped on their bike and left town

Whenever he was out of sorts
"I know just what to do." he reports
Hops on his Harley
Tunes in Bob Marley
And with his road buddies covorts

When typing out poetry sublime
In perfect meter, style, and time
I hit the wrong key
The words all left me
And straight up the walls I did climb

I'd type it again if I could
Beautiful art like that should
Be seen by mankind
Read aloud to the blind
And explained so it's full understood

I can't recollect what I said
The inspiration's not fading, it's dead
A masterpiece lost
Not even a ghost
Remains in this poor authors' head

My Harley is coughing up blood
Fast going from rocket to dud
My great pride and joy's
Making a horrible noise
And misfires more than old Elmer Fudd

While riding the Yogabike south
Meditating and shifting by mouth
I reached for my toes
With the tip of my nose
When I fell off and skinned my knees both

Writer's block vexes the bard
A challenge he takes with regaurd
Lack of sharp verse
For a poet is worse
Than something unpleasant and hard

Splashing along through the soup
My leathers are soaked through with goop
A beard full of crud
From puddles of mud
As I try to catch up with the group

"Let's go for a ride, it won't rain"
"We'll beat Mother Nature again!"
"The weatherman lies!'
Came eager replies
I recall with bitter disdain

We're two hours from home if 'twas nice!
Any colder and this rain will be ice
It was fun in the sun
When this trip was begun
And we arrogantly tossed off the dice

When betting on some iffy cruise
Better bring with a dry pair of shoes
And a set of rain gear
When thunder clouds near
'Cause when you bet, sometimes you lose

Cruising through rolling green hills
Creation about sending chills
Through the soul of this man
In the midst of that span
Immersed in the awe it instills