A MOTORCYCLE ADVENTURE WITH MR. TOAD Written by Tom Chipley (with apologies to Kenneth Graham) Free he rides, alone along The rural roaded byways Helmetless he faces bugs And smiles to greet them always. Warty leather head to toe Goggles proud and proper, He shuns the damp and swampy ground Its bikes for this free hopper. Astride his trusted Boxer bike He flys through wood and town, And laughs aloud into the wind For this new life he found. Fate, it seems, blows cool and warm For those who bank on such, And for the one who owns this bike Fates an icy tough. For possesion is to those who have, And naught to those behind, Now Toad is on the road again At peace with all mankind. Cause when the rightful Owner paused To take a bite to eat, Toad lept a mighty greedy leap Grasping tank and leather seat. With bulging eyes he studied fast And passed with flying colors, A twist, a squeeze, a kick in time, He learned upon some other's. Too late the Owner heard his fate As Toad revved up the Bemmer And off he roared upon this bike, A hot Teutonic screamer. Alas, the Owner wept in vain For Toad and bike had fled, A spec on yon horizon now, "A curse on warty head!" But if one must play with fate You surely must outfox her, Cause bikes there are, oh yes, oh yes, That can outrun a Boxer. And such it was, the Owners friend (In friends he was quite choosy) Said, "Take my bike and run him down! My bright red Moto Guzzi!" So chase was given to Mr. Toad, That thief of warty hide, And creatures standing by the way Saw two knee-draggers ride. Toad had re-read all the books That told of counter-steering And how to hang the aft parts off... Twas not that he was fearing. Up and down, and fast around, Our thief rode with abandon, While Guzzi chased him wild and hard, His neck to get his hands on. The way was free, the road was clear, Cows watched with introspection. Toad rode too far without the brake Into an intersection. The road had stopped, it made a "T". New ways went East or West, But Toad and bike went straight on through (His brakes were not the best). Toad sailed high, the Bemmer low, Into a pond Toad landed. Toad had made his getaway, And done it singlehanded. The Owner hugged his Beemer As he informed the Cop, "I knew I'd catch the bounder If e're he had to stop." Old Beemers, he said, are made to run, But you can't teach old dogs tricks. And few brakes poor as those are found On a Beemer R-90 slash six. So goes the tale of the ride of Toad And to some it is not news As all the frogs in ponds will tell Toad couldn't outrun the Goose! ------------------------------------ Copied without permission from the Feb 1991 issue of Moto Guzzi National Owners Club (MGNOC) Newsletter.