to clear roads and starry skies,
dry pavement and steady climbs,
smooth curves and the feeling of flight,
the whisper of rubber on stone and lime;
to forests and plains, valleys and hills,
long trips and short stuttered stills,
the vanishing point passed way on back
and nothing but dust left in our tracks;
to nowhere but forwards,
to nowhen but now,
to nobody but us,
to nothing but...
two wheels and a chain,
and a well-balanced frame,
a rider, a bike, and a claim.