It was a hot and windy day
and I was feeling quite beat down
when I stopped along the way
in that little nothing town
I pulled up by the pumps
and filled her up with gas.
Three old-timers on their rumps
in front, just nodded when I passed.
I went inside to get cooled down
Then got myself Coke
I went back out, looked around,
and lit myself a smoke.
At my bike those three had gathered round,
you could see stories were being told.
They examined her from top to ground
then glanced longingly down the road.
One turned to me, stuck out his hand
I shook it and he said,
"We, all three ,fought for this here land
as did many friends, now dead."
"We all came back from World War Two,
The three of us ", he said.
"We weren't quite sure what we would do,
when in entered in our heads."
"We'll all get motorcycles, we thought,
and to this we all agreed.
War surplus bikes were readily bought,
They became our Iron Steeds"
"Jim and Tom had old Harley 45's;
I bobbed an old surplus Indian.
Riding those bike made us feel alive,
like we were back home once again."
"We rode those bikes from coast to coast,
and then back around again.
We did all the things we had missed the most
when we were off in that foreign land."
Then they went on to tell their tales,
of young women wooed and tossed.
Of a bar fight and a night in jail,
of memories they'd thought lost.
You could see the twinkle in their eyes
as they remembered those long lost roads.
As they told of mountains, bright blue skies.
and riding in rain and cold.
When, departure time came for me,
each took my hand in turn.
The last said. "My son, ride free,
for there's one thing I've learned."
"If you love the freedom of road,
riding toward that endless sky.
Remember always the debt that's owed
to all of those who've died."
"You have the freedom of the ride,
oh wondrous things you'll see,
but the ghosts will be there at your side,
who purchased your Liberty."
As I rode away, those three old vets
just disappeared from view.
Impossible, I thought, and yet...
The words they spoke rang true.
So now, three ghost's ride at my side,
together toward the setting sun.
In freedom and the wind we ride
On remembered roads we run.
2007 Bill "uglicoyote" Davis