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Nick Ienatsch waxes poetic about Kris Kringle’s off-time.

December 24, 2019

What would Christmas be without the traditional bad moto-poetry on Ienatsch Tuesday? Here’s the truth about Santa.

Santa on a motorcycle
Of course Santa rides; what other reason could there be for his jolliness? – Hery Siswanto

When the Christmas presents are handed out,

By the jolly red elf, short and stout,

Your stocking will be filled, have no doubt.

Because you’ve ridden a motorcycle all about.

If you’ve logged the miles, you’ll get the treats

Whether you were riding in the dirt, on tracks, or in the streets.

While lesser humans flail in cars,

We smile and giggle behind clip-ons or handlebars.

Sure, we’re superior in every way,ADVERTISEMENT / ADVERTISE WITH US

Rolling our eyes as cars undulate and sway,

Tipping to the outside like a drunk elephant.

While we operate a vehicle efficient yet elegant.

Cars have a place on this earth,

For people who decided not to enjoy life after birth.

Autos roll along providing a place to text,

While our two wheels give the wonder of the world context.

“But wait,” you say, “you’re being unfair!”

To which I reply “You’re right, my error.”

I’ve overlooked the only critical four-wheeled appliance—

The truck or van to foster our race and dirt reliance.

So with Christmas coming you’re in line to prosper,

Because your two-wheeled affection tops Santa’s roster.

Riders are at the top of his list.

Because in the summer he’s got an aggressive right wrist.

Oh, yeah, the chubby guy rides quick;

It’s hammer down, usually on fresh Dunlop slicks.

If Santa’s bike isn’t wheelying, it’s sideways and spinning;

When he enters races, his only finish is winning.

You’ll catch a quick view as he rockets on by,

Beard whipping along as he slices the traction pie.

He’ll run it on in there just like he was Eddie Lawson.

And rumor has it that Steady Eddie is his godson.

He rides in Montana all summer long.

With the Roberts, Carruthers, Raineys—that throng.

They’re lost in the canyons and the pace is electric.

Santa’s choice of bike can only be called eclectic.

Yes, he drives a sleigh in December,

To deliver presents to all motorcycle-world members,

But the summers in Montana are all about strokers.

Because Santa and his gang are addicted to the two-stroke smokers.

Firing up the canyon with TZs, Gammas, and ex-GP bikes,

Sounds like heaven or hell, depending upon what you like.

Santa leads Roberts because the old guy’s that quick.

And Kenny has seen entry speeds he can only describe as “sick.”

Kocinski’s there too on a Cagiva in red,

Filice and Oliver on 250s, and man do they shred.

Schwantzy throws down on a Pepsi Gamma

And even Santa says, “He’s one fast mamma jamma.”

Fast Freddie’s near the front of the queue,

On his favorite triple in white and blue.

It’s a flurry of strokers that accelerate with verve,

And right in the mix is Eddie, tuned by Erv.

It’s a little-known secret that Santa’s that fast.

But underneath his bulk is a famous bike from the past.

While Kenny rides his factory 500 with Kel’s skill to urge it,

Santa rolls out on Rossi’s NSR500, wrenched by Jeremy Burgess.

So now you know why the big fella’s so sweet.

His summers are spent in Montana at speed.

Santa’s advice might be the best present:

“Two-strokes and speed will make you content”.