One day on my three wheeler.
At the top of Cold Stream Place.
I set off on my own downhill.
I didn't want to race.

Just to see if I could make it.
To the bottom, all the way.
And see the look on our Lynne's face.
Then she'd have to let me play.

Setting off I found was easy.
A push is all it takes.
It was only when I got half way.
I found there were no brakes.

It was near the bottom I hit full speed.
With Rawcliffe Street ahead.
If any cars are coming across.
There's no chance now I'm dead.

I shot across with both eyes shut.
And reached the other side.
But now that they were open.
They really opened wide.

I bounced across the cobbles.
And hurtled down the alley.
With houses coming straight ahead.
There was no time to dally.

I aimed it for a backyard gate.
So that would break my fall.
I missed it by a little bit.
And shot into the wall.

Head and wall, contact was made.
With one almighty thud.
I landed heavily on the ground.
Still breathing that was good.

A lady shot out at the racket I made.
And carried me into her yard.
She tut tutted a lot.
And put on the lump.
A quarter pound of lard.

Feeling steadier now I got to my feet.
And set off with my bike.
Downhill I now know is the easy bit.
But uphill what a hike.

Copyright DW Smith 2007.

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Brilliant Daz,

It brought memories back of my sister on her first two wheeler (secondhand) racing down the lane and crashing into the Cemetery Gates. We limped home with a mangled bike afraid of the reception we would get on arrival!

mattycat

Hi Mattycat.
It's funny how some things stick in your mind isn't it?
Lots of love
Daz
xxx