This was posted by themotorcycleguy over on the best chopper site on the interweb TCU. Just thought you might like it.
To sell, or not to sell: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous handling,
Or to take wrenches against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
that only a hard tail can deliver
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: to dream of the next build;
For in that sleep we may dream of an even more radical build
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
But a life with only so much time to build
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
whose only relief being in the wind on a bike you create,
But that the dread of something after death,
To look back and question, did I build enough? Ride enough?
No traveller returns, unless the Chopper Gods smile
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
And to build that of which has not been built yet.