Transcripted from rec.bicycles.misc:
Cycling, birds, harbingers, Shimano, and Death .....
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Mark Freedman
Once upon a bikeride dreary While I pedalled weak and weary Heading towards a nearby shore With
just one pannier. Nothing more. There came a rapping on my noggin From a bird whose head was
bobbin' Perched upon my leeward shoulder Words which made my heart grow colder Quoth that raven,
"hmmph. Deore."
It spread its wings, a meter wide Inspired thoughts of ornicide. Then fluttered to my forward rack
And perched there so it could look back. It fixed upon my front derailleur Glare which hinted
pending failure. A look which chilled me to the core So many miles from any store. Quoth that Raven,
"hmmmph. Deore."
How I longed for Campagnolo When out riding, riding solo. But my bike came with Shimano. It's not
even "Italiano." Still, you do the best you can. It's not the grupo, it's the man. I touched the
brakes, I slowed my pace. I held on harder, just in case. Quoth that Raven, "hmmmph. Deore."
I shifted to the middle chainring Spun those pedals like a mad thing Gave my bike a sudden lurch The
bird fell from its forward perch Its head caught in a front wheel spoke I heard the snap as its neck
broke I managed to avoid a crash I'd had enough of pavement rash.
It will suffice, my "hmmmph, Deore."
May you have the wind at your back. And a really low gear for the hills! Chris
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