One more Stories fave.
An ode to his Scattante.
Read this from Charlie:
To love, Scattante
When my bicycle swears that she is made of carbon, I do believe her, though I know she lies.
That she might think me some novice cyclist, Unlearned in the sport’s false subtleties, Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young.
Although she knows my riding days are past the best, I simply credit her false speaking saddle.
On both pedals thus is simple truth supress’d, But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
Oh!, cycling’s best habit is in seeming trust, And age in cyclists not to have years told.
Therefore I hope to race with her and she with me, And with this Scattante, my kit complete’d be.