This following poem was sent into us by Mat James from Australia. He combines his love of riding, and writing poetry, and comes up with a unique point of view that we all will recognize.

   *a Better Spark*


I rolled out my old red bike
I felt the urge to ride;
creature of impulse
that I am
among the Springing Sun.

I swung my right leg over
teasing that piston
with gentle force at first
like that you would use to nudge
any lovely old girl
back into life and warmth
and as it happens sometimes;
there was no spark.

Not being one to surrender
easily
without a storm
I huffed and puffed
and blew no houses down
nor rode my little red rider, "Hood".
The tempest and the bark
just weren’t there.

I searched for tips
among old myths
On resurrecting the dead
On burning bushes
and sweet reprieve
for some feint glow of hope
in that greying matter.

I drained the fuel.
I filled the tank anew.
I rubbed that old plug
oven-baked it for one hour
set the gap
forging him back to youth
and strength as only hell can do.

Screwing slowly
I inserted that god of fire and light
and connected that universal charge.
I squeezed and choked
just enough air and fuel
to suck
that perfect mix
I pushed, we fired, she purred.

Mat James.