Riding  across Utah, headed west

About nineteen and eighty-three

Looking for a place to rest

And a glass of cold iced tea

 

I’d ridden from Denver

On a Harley that ran just fine

Listened to the motor purr

Following that yellow line

 

I was relaxed and half asleep

Steering with my throttle hand

Abruptly my Harley leaped

Heading straight for the sand

 

I’d been hugging that center line

When the wind caught me unaware

Making me a busy fellow

Dragging all the iron I dare

 

Was pushed ‘cross the white line fast

Didn’t want to go that way

But it seemed my lot was cast

To route in the sand and clay

 

Wind gave me a second chance

To straighten up that old hog

Bring her to a center line stance

With room ‘tween me and that fog

 

‘Tween my teeth was Utah sand

In my nose sweat and steel

With disaster close at hand

I stayed astride my wheel

 

 

Then I saw the West Winds place

And folks fixing ice tea

I swung into an empty space

A mighty nice place to be