touring turnabout?


Home from a way-too-short week in Bozeman. Thanks to general airport chaos following the plane crash at SFO (the night I was supposed to leave, naturally), it took me more time to fly out than it took my travel buddy to ride. Oh well.

We were backpacking, mostly, but the to-and-fro was all by one fully loaded bike. I had very little interest in motorcycle touring beforehand, and expected to have even less after. I figured that all my longstanding objections to bicycle touring—that the luggage Jenga and weather worries are an unnecessary hassle, that it’s annoying to feel heavy and slow (well, heavier and slower than usual)—would apply with an engine, too.

But for the most part I was pleasantly surprised. It’s true that I’ll never be a volume person: for me, distance for distance’s sake lacks the fundamental romance that it holds for some people. And…

View original post 63 more words


Time to Part


On acquiring a new ride!

Time to Part


We were lovers for a while

Together going here and there

But after many a joyful mile

She was starting to show the wear


Some blemishes on her skin

Showed the many days in the sun

The times when we had been

Not two, but truly joined as one.


It was sad to say goodbye,

But I still bid her a fond farewell.

No tear fell from my eye

At least none that one could tell


Now there’s a new girl in my heart

All black and dressed in new leather

And towards new rides we depart

Two into one, joined together.


It was difficult to part

But the parting time had come

Now there’s a new love in my heart

And our new ride has just begun.



©Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

Charter member of Road Scribes of America™




My Heart leaps

My Heart Leaps Up

with apologies to Wordsworth

My heart leaps up, as toward a rainbow I ride

So it was at the beginning of my ride

So it has been through all the years and miles

So it shall be until the end of my days

or let me die

The child is father to the man.

And I wish my days could be

bound together by the road,

by the wind,

by the ride.

©Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

Charter member of Road Scribes of America™


My Heart Leaps Up by William Wordsworth

Do You Swear To Tell The Truth?

Do you swear to tell the truth

as you write your living ode

about the things you’ve seen and done

as you rode the open road


About the lonely highway’s

where you were the only one

who passed through beauty and silence

on your life’s headlong run.


The rivers you have crossed

the small villages and towns

where you met with other riders

on their quests to chase life down.


Can you tell truth about the joy

that sometimes rises deep inside

or about the hard and tough times

that you’ve had along your ride.


Road Poet, tell the whole truth,

don’t hold back, spill your gut.

As you ride your roads and write your odes,

tell the truth and nothing but.

©Bill “Uglicoyote” Davis

Check out Road Scribes of America : A Fellowship of  The Pen-The Wind-The Road

A Short History of Hooliganism

My mom didn’t want me to have a motorcycle because she feared I would turn into a hooligan. She was correct, of course.

Short History of Hooliganism

I want to be T.E. Lawrence

On a Brough superior

Doing  “the ton” down

a dusty British Lane

I want to be Malcolm Smith

blasting across Baja

in a cloud of dust

on a red and chrome Husqvarna

I want to be Steve McQueen

in a motorcycle movie,

On Any Sunday” with

Malcolm and Mert Lawwill

I want to be Rollie Free,

150 miles per hour down the salt

On a Vincent Black Lightning

in just a swim suit and sneakers

I want to be Marlon Brando,

The Wild One,

Or better yet, a Boozefighter

At Hollister, 1947

I want to be Sonny Barger

in Oakland, 1957 or

Partying with Hunter Thompson

Or Ken Kesey at La Honda

I want to be Billy, stoned

Following Wyatt down the

Easy Riding road to New Orleans,

Riding with Captain America

I want to be Bert Munro

doing 200 at Bonneville

on a 1920 Indian,

the world’s fastest.

I ride with them on every road I travel

I ride with them in my dreams

In my imagination, we are one

Together we ride

© Bill “Uglicoyote” Davis 2012

Getting Stoned

No single incident inspired this poem, but rather an accumulation of general asshattery. SOB

Getting Stoned

“Everybody must get stoned,” he sang

But Dylan wasn’t talking about weed.

He was talking about those

who will put you down, and dis’

your every deed.

You ride the wrong bike,

you ride the wrong way,

you don’t ride with the right crowd,

but they say these things

behind your back.

They’ll never speak them out loud.

But I don’t care, I ride my way

with my friends and brothers, tried and true.

And if you don’t like me

I’ll not lose any sleep,

cause I won’t be riding with you.

I ignore my critics

try to stay true to the truth

My mistakes I’ve always owned

I know that scar tissue is

Stronger than flesh,

and everyone must get stoned.

© Bill “Uglicoyote” Davis 2012

Road Song For Charlie

Road Song for Charlie


Free range words,

played all night long

road rhythms the music

and truth is the song


To ride with all brothers

To roll down that highway

To capture the truths

and that lurk in the byways


To treat all with respect

to be loyal and true

to your friends and brothers

on this ride with you


If you can do these things

and learn to do them well

You might just grow up

to be like Charlie Brechtel


©Bill “Uglicoyote” Davis 2012

Three Baiku

Baiku= Motorcycle Haiku

Three Baiku


Riding down Mink Creek

Moose crossing road up ahead

Summer passes on.


Living in the ride

Sickly-sweet smell, roadkill skunk

Wildflowers ahead


They walked the long trail,

pioneers Oregon bound

On ghost trails we ride.


Copyright 2012, Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

Don’t Patch Me In

Wow. Two poems in one day.  Got my MoJo working baby.

Don’t Patch Me In

Sorry to let you down , Dude

but that patch means nothing to me

Sure, I’m a rider through-and-through

but that means riding free.

And riding free means something more

than the kind of bike I ride

or dressing up like a pirate

Riding free is something inside

My “brotherhood” is bigger than yours,

it’s all who ride on two wheels

who answer the call of the open road

who know how the “twisties” feel.

You don’t wave or stop to help

anyone not exactly like you

But I always wave, and I always stop

That’s just the right thing to do.

The patch you say is a point of pride

I suppose that’s okay by me

but I see that patch as another chain

You’re trying to tie on me.

So I’ll keep my freedom, you keep your patch

you wear it through thick and thin

but I’ll ride my way and I’ll stay free

I won’t let anyone “patch me in.”

Copyright 2012 Bill “ugliccoyote” Davis