Here’s hoping in this festive season,
that the pavement beneath you be dry and the air in your lungs be clean;
that your bike remain trusty,
and your butt stay lean.

That your chain be perfectly lubed,
and your gear ratios just right;
that your nether regions remain sensitive;
and your blinky light shine bright.

That your bike rides be speedy,
and your burritos be filling;
that your beer be cold and delicious,
and your legs keep on willing.

That your high-protein energy bars,
not be too gross or chunky;
and that the insides of your water bottles,
not be too funky.

That your tires have plenty of tread left,
because you’re not doing too much skidding;
and that your jeans aren’t too tight -
don’t think i’m kidding.

That your calves feel limber,
and your knees not be creaky;
that all of your fingers stay warm,
and that your brakes aren’t squeaky.

That your coffee be potent,
and your road rash be healing;
and that your new team-issued lycra uniform,
not be too revealing.

That no cop ever sees you,
running red lights;
and that if you get caught,
you know all of your rights.

That not every car
honks as it passes,
lest you’re led to believe -
all of them: asses!

That the guys in your local bike shop,
don’t think they’re too cool -
arrogant hipsters charging too much,
thinking everyone a fool.

That digital shifting,
not lead you astray;
nor carbon-fiber gizmos,
consume all of your pay.

That your spokes don’t break,
and your wheels stay true;
and your ears don’t freeze,
and you lips don’t turn blue.

That your pant legs stay clean,
and your armpits stay dry;
and you always ride with a helmet,
or at least you try.

That there’s always enough room,
to squeeze through traffic jams;
while avoiding cab doors,
and foreign tourists wandering aimlessly like lambs.

That you’re not plagued by flat tires,
or a rattly chain;
or old rusting cables,
or a bent frame.

That your rims aren’t dinged,
and your headset doesn’t jiggle;
and your cleats aren’t worn out,
and your axles don’t wiggle.

That all winter long,
pedaling mile after mile,
you feel so alive,
that you can’t help but smile.

And that one of these days,
you’ll ride over here;
because, dear friend,
I miss having you near.