Gasser -~~~MK200 women riders~~~ January 11, 2010 11:08 AM
I went into the Mk200 Motorcycle pits
Saw her, my hormones were having fits
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I put my kickstand stand down beside her
She was a sweet MK200 Rock Island Rider!
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Her curvy suspension was really working
Speeding in my eyes for bumps, I was looking
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She asked if I had a CRF450R or wimpy KDX
I was in slack jaw in awe, lost in her complex
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I stumbled for a hot chick introduction word
She noted I was a two stroke geek engine nerd
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She asked if my brain was Viagra hormone jetted
It put me on high compression stroke that I fretted
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I said; my mental pilot and main jet is lean
Got richer love?...If you know what I mean
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She got the hot spark plug clue, then, I knew
I was one of the very, very lucky dirt bike few
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We rode off into the nasty hot a’a’ lava rocks
Being a Rock Island Rider, I took the knocks
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She roosted me with rocks, cinder and dust
I tried to keep up, it was pure hormone lust
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Perfect suspension & fine women is my goal
Going faster than the crash, energizes the soul
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I was reeling her in fast, getting hot & closer
But missed a damn shift!...looking like a poser
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Wheeling in pride, she never looked back
I was stuck in a narrow one minded track
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Got home an looked for the broken part
Found I had a bolt stripped in the heart

~~~Gasser~~~

Gasser -Romance of Tarmac & Rubber January 6, 2010 10:45 PM
My weekend routine commences forthwith

Early Sunday solar appearance in the AM, I feel compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of reclined recharge for the purpose of a Hawaiian Saddle Road vascular expanding adrenalin rush.

Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing the Race Tech Gold Valved suspended crotch rockets containment, whereupon the solar brilliance reflection on the surface of a recent pristine polished fuel containment cell, that might be said to rival that of the solar brilliance in itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a conveyance of a high velocity G-force Super Bike ride awaiting my aggressive procurement.

With my lower bipeds for motive power traveling at what may possibly have been a more higher trajectory speed than a Wisconsin Harley, I vociferated loudly, expelling breath musically through contracted mouth labia, and addressed the application of Dunlop rubber on Serpentine Saddle Road (>lets haul freaking ass today>) shouted are the words of fun ignition.

I then propelled myself in a short vector onto the super bike conveyance, as hemoglobin is pressuring the Pukinjie sacks in the lower grey matter of my Hippocampus, preparing me for the G-force that is only a rotation of the carpals away in thought containment mode.

As I projected my cranium to its erstwhile carbon fiber safety location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, with my right lower appendage arcing over the thorax of the shining liquid cooled 900 RR crotch rocket, I directed a musical expulsion of air through a contracted anal sphincter toward the vinyl covering of burden retention.

I was clad entirely in a 1.5 mm outer dermis layer of Bovine hide soiled by the insect residue from direct annoying 170mph insecticidal collisions, which had accumulated on the front leading rotating spatula edges thereof.

Freedom and joy was expressed by my orbs being scintillate with reflected luminosity, while my sub maxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability, I felt haul freaking ass healthy.

To commence completion of this rhythm of exotic compound rubber meets tarmac, I executed an abrupt forward face with inclined cranium forward in a gesture of leave and forthwith effected my egress by negotiating the twisting of the right wrist in a downward motion, and coincide flicking the left digits off the aluminum leverage manipulator, causing volumes of smoke and a single long black strip marking the Saddle Road passage.

If this makes sense to you, you’re a motorcyclephile

~~~Gasser~~~old but Fasser

Gasser -Racer X January 3, 2010 11:05 PM
Racer X
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Chest over the bars revving to the moon with my right hand
Watching for the snap of the starting rubber band
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I got the hole shot into the first turn
Leg out, elbows up, railing the 180 degree berm
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WFO through the deep whop-T-do’s
Out in front with nothing to lose
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Setting up for the next double jump
I got way out of shape off a square edge bump
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Cross rutted on the launch ramp
That’s when my leg started to cramp
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I managed to pull it off anyhow
That’s when I heard the crowd yell WOW!
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Down the high speed straight hard on the gas
Tightening the skin around my old ass
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Focusing on the launch of the 80 foot triple
Got to be perfect or I’ll be a cripple
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The spectators all pointed way up there
As I pulled off a one handed Superman air
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Dropping back in holding my breath
Knowing again I just cheated death
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Brake sliding into the next turn
Setting up for the doubles after this berm
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Spanning the double jump doing the lazy-boy
Had the fan’s screaming jumping and for joy
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Coming up a little short as I tagged down
Almost turned my racing shorts brown
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Back on the freaking gas showing some class
I’m not going to let any motocrosser’s pass
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Squirting into the long sweeping curve
I stayed on the gas never losing my nerve
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Coming up fast to the big jump ahead
Never back off is what they all said
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WFO all the stinking way
I whipped it sideways just to make my day
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Dropping back in perfectly with no hands on the bar’s
I’ve missed a few times, want to see my scars?
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Twisting the throttle as hard as I can
Winning this race I’ll be the man
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20 lap’s completed, one more lap to go
I’m starting to get tired starting to slow
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Made a mistake, washing out the front end
I was down on the ground for the count of ten
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Picked it back up and got back on the gas
Shot by everyone, to pull off the ultimate pass
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Doing a no hander over the winning checkered flag
Getting a tall golden trophy with authority to brag
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~Gasser~

I got more, but I don't want to burn you folks out.

Gasser -motorcycle poetry> Big Island of Hawaii's Mauna Kea 200 January 3, 2010 10:45 PM

Riders of the rocks
Take lava rock knocks
Got iron grip on the bars
To keep from getting scars
Smooth on the gas over roots
Toes on the pegs with big boots
Looking way ahead down the trail
Staying fluidly fast trying not to flail
Keeping the revs up high in the tall gear
Going faster than the crash without a fear
Never backing off as big logs come up fast
Twisting the grip not wanting to be last
Passing wannabe’s stuck in deep mud
Speeding over lava shaking off crud
Body over the bars climbing hills
Rock Island Rider racing thrills
Pitch it sideways in the turns
Spraying rocks in all berm’s
No time for mental spacing
Mauna Kea 200, is racing

~Gasser~