Riding A Bike With My Dad - Potterers Cycling Club

The Potterers Cycling Club

Pottering in Kent for 50 years !

The Potterers Cycling Club

Pottering in Kent since 1971

Words > Poetry

Riding A Bike With My Dad by Joe Wilson

I’m thinking now of my childhood

Of Dinky toys and a bright shiny trike

I travelled for miles going nowhere

On that beautiful three-wheeled bike.

It even had a boot on the back

Like a bread bin between the wheels

That I used to fill with books and toys

Only opened to best friend’s appeals.

The bike was bright red and I loved it

I raced round on it every day

Until that time when I was just too big

And the bike was taken away.

I missed that old red tricycle

It had been my companion for a while

But the two-wheeled cycle that Dad got

Soon turned my lips up in a smile.

It was a second-hand bike and quite grown-up

Hand-painted the darkest maroon

And I rode it for miles, this time with my dad

But it’s fun-giving days went too soon.

My next bike was blue, and a racer

Derailleur gears numbered ten

I wanted to ride out again with my dad

But he’d cycled his last before then.

My dad rode a bike for the whole of his life

Yet he never reached fifty-three

When I’m on a bike now, cycling along

I think of him riding with me.

usque ad mortem bibendum

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