Once a Biker Chick, always a Biker Chick

Her leather jacket’s a little tight,
But she still zips it up for the exhilarating ride tonight.
Wrinkles? Sure. A few gray strands?
But she’s got more chrome than most young bands.

She fires the Harley, it coughs, then roars,
Neighbors dive and lock their doors.
“Is that a grandma?” kids all shout— “Yep, and she’ll earn your respect on the roundabout!”
“Yep, and she’ll smoke you on the roundabout!”

Her knees may creak, her hips might groan, but on two wheels, she’s unwavering in the zone.
But on two wheels, she’s free, she’s powerful, she’s in control. She’s in the zone.
Forget the bingo, the knitting too—
She’s got tattoos that still look new.

Helmet on, lipstick bright,
She’s chasing sunsets, not the night.
And if you think she’s lost her spark,
She’ll rev that engine and leave her mark.

So here’s to the ladies who ride with pride,
Wrinkles and wisdom along for the ride.
Once a biker woman, always wild—
Just don’t ask her to slow down, child!