Pressing the throttle in, I hear wheels start to spin, and I bet you can too. If you’ve ever been four wheeling/ quading this is a poem for you..

I looked at where I stood,

We were up by Mt. Hood

I turn the key,

And begin to feel free.

I press the ignition,

Then adjust my position.

I raise my foot to put it in first gear,

I witness, across the river, a deer.

Pressing the throttle in,

I hear wheels start to spin.

Dirt flings up from the ground,

I spin in a circle around and around.

The trees are thick and form a hall,

A dirt road makes a path right through them all.

Trees blur as wind presses against my face,

I’m not worried about my pace.

But the roads were dusty,

And my skills were rusty.

There was a split second when I couldn’t see,

a ditch in the road, I almost hit a tree.

My heart thudded as I gained my control,

To ride for miles, that was my goal.

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