My weekend poem

There once was a guy named Mike
who loved to ride his bike.
With friend nice
and roommate twice,
They drove to St. George one night.







The morning was cold,
but the racers were bold.
They hesitated not
to conquer that which they sought.
After all a rainstorm is no plight.
















Mike mounted his steed
Secretly sad the women had more speed.
At the first big hill,
he slowed to talk to a kid wanting to spill.
And together they traversered that which put up no small fight.







But alas the wind blew harder
And the rain got smarter.
The race director freaked
as the lightning near the water peaked.
And soon the police flooded the terrain with their light.







Mike swore and yelled "fooey!!"
He had no choice but to flip a U-ey.
Roommate told him to smile really
But in truth, everyone was dreary.
And the group drove home through the blight.







Yes they were unhappy.
A cancelled race is 100% crappy.
To get to St. George, they had blown so much cash,
but at least they saw a dude with a sweet 'stache.
And seeing the odd loads, their tongues they could only bite.










So today is a new day
The memory of St. George already far away.
But our trio frowns on surrender;
the triathlon relay they love to engender.
Will they ever try again? Surely they might.