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Saturday, September 25, 2021

    ‘Twas the Bike Before Christmas

    Chad Brislawn
    A lifelong Muscatine resident, Chad Brislawn has a passion for motorcycles and writing. He writes No Baffles No Brakes, for Discover Muscatine newspaper.

    Muscatine Living

    ‘Twas the night before Christmas,
    I was ready to crash.
    I’d had a few beers,
    They went down pretty fast.

    The kids had been sleeping for an hour or two,
    And my wife had a log she was sawing right through.
    So quietly I crept down the stairs with a stumble,
    Arms full of presents, man that was almost a fumble.

    I flung them under the tree with a flick of my wrist,
    Like a dealer flinging cards and I totally missed.
    I jacked up the star and the lights were all crooked,
    You’d think there was an earthquake the way that it shook it.

    With the tree in distress I moved onto the stockings,
    I filled them so full they were practically popping.
    I shoved in one more candy and there went the seams,
    I had an army of chocolates that were fleeing the scene.

    I went slipping and grabbing and flailing around,
    Despite my best efforts my face met the ground.
    I laid for a moment in a long breathless pause.
    Did anyone hear that? Did I just break my jaws?

    There wasn’t a rustle, not even a peep.
    Good thing there’s no fire, the way these guys sleep.
    I grabbed me a cookie and sat down for a spell,
    Ended up eating all three, kicked the milk back as well.

    My belly was full, and my jaw was still throbbin’,
    Visions of bedtime rolled around in my noggin’.
    Just as I began drifting off in a snooze,
    I heard a loud crash that cut right through the booze.

    My eyes were a little blurry like seeing a mirage,
    But it sounded like that sound came from the garage.
    So, I flung open the door to the brisk midnight air,
    Wishing I’d worn more than just underwear.

    I leapt out onto the porch in six inches of snow,
    I feel like it must have been three hundred below.
    I went prancing and freezing in an awkward like dance,
    Looking back now, I really should have worn pants.
    I got to the garage and flung open the door,
    I slapped on the light and the beams hit the floor.
    Lo and behold my eyes could not believe,
    There was a man on my bike preparing to leave.

    From his head to his boots he wore red and white leathers,
    And a great big white beard draping off of this feller.
    He had a heaping ‘ol belly hanging over the tank,
    And one hand on the throttle just letting it crank.

    I yelled over the motor trying to start a discussion,
    At this point it was clear I must have had a concussion.
    Because the big, jolly man just let out a chuckle,
    Burned a whole bunch of rubber and took off on my Knuckle.

    The wheels left the pavement, he rode up into the air.
    And as he yelled back, all I could do was just stare.
    “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
    Thanks for the wheels man, it’s a pretty sweet bike!”

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