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