ABATE of New Mexico, Inc

In Memory of "Reverend MadJack" O. Kaplan

Partners

What tired old hands placed you there long ago?
How many tales of the road do you know?
Old scooter you've aged brittle and hard,
Your tires are worn, your chrome is scarred.
You were owned by some hard fisted biker no doubt,
Who is now old and leathery and, like you worn out.
Who when riding through rainstorms to head to the coast,
At times trailed the pack, and ate dust like a roast.
Your paint is all scarred and burned from the sun,
How many ol' ladys have you made pack up and run?
Did you witness the courage of stouthearted men,
Who faced into the wind, as they say they did then?
Those worn old chaps lying there by your side,
Could they tell of the rides, restless and wide?
Were those conchos once shiny, now covered with rust?
Were those patches once new, now covered with dust?
Did the legs those chaps covered once stride through doors,
And mingle with honeys on old dance hall floors?
Did those legs that they covered, love a sweet laughing maid,
Were those chaps hung over your seat, as they danced and played?
Can you smell the hard liquor, remember the fights,
Brothers playing poker, far into the night?
Old scooter now sits, in that old wooden shed,
Spokes and rims rusty, and with the leathers of the dead.
You've known men of courage, and foolhardy deeds,
Who fought with their fists, road big iron steeds.
The end of the trail must come to the best,
but you served many your purpose,
Now you may rest.
R. M. J. 85'