You perhaps have forgotten Easy Rider bikers, but we old geezers that had that wild vibrating thing between our legs, don't! heeeeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww!!!

Dedicated to Fred "Harley Davidson" Rideout




I promised to no naming Fred’s name to Rose,
Oops! I done it again, like falling from the roof
when prancing up there like red nose Rudolph
up there only an absent minded biker will do.

Bikers wives have no place in their garages,
if the Harley Davison must be kept out the snow
her car will be relegated to be alone outside
as they said, left to wonder all by itself in the cold.

But I am with Fred all the way on Route sixty six,
of those sterilized highways I am not very fond,
I like the twisting road going though little towns
and when it rains, we ain’t in no way waterproof.

Sleeping under the stars when the moon is not there,
with a coyote wannabe Sinatra with a pitiful voice,
gas ain’t too expensive if you have a rich uncle when
grabbing grub on those eighteen wheelers pit stops.

Riding a souped up old monster from Milwaukee,
no Smokey will ever catch up on those Jap’s jobs,
at hundred and fifty miles he will eating HD dust
and on the horizon Fred and I will be just ghosts!

But man, Easy Rider on the open roads of yesterday
wouldn’t see, not the biker’s bohemia, not anymore,
but Electric Glides with automatic warming butt seats
and hi-fi stereos full of Mantovanis and Manilows.

OK Fred, we should give a little time to our girls,
if you start by giving plenty of sugar to your Rose
I promise to be a good boy and go that extra mile
on my old Harley D to get us a full crate of Coors.