There’s a place where the paved road ends,
And before the trail begins,
And there the moss grows soft and green,
And there the sun glints barely seen,
And there the moist air is thick but clean,
Still fresh from the deep canyon rain.
Let us leave this place where the smog weighs black,
And the loud road climbs and bends
Past the pits where the parched creek trickles.
We shall pedal with a pedal that’s measured and slow.
And watch where the fresh tire tracks will go,
To the place where the paved road ends.
Thank you, Shel Silverstein, for the inspiration.
