The Man Who Rode with Spanners

He loved his wheels for what they were,
Not toys of fashion, not dreams of air.
Steel and spokes, a simple creed,
A bike that gave him all he’d need.

He turned the bolts with steady hand,
Each part the same in every land.
Standard threads, no tricks, no lies—
He loathed the gadgets, the needless ties.

Yet gears that clicked with purpose true,
A rare invention he’d not eschew.
For on the road, both tent and inn,
Adventure waits where rides begin.

He met the strangers, odd, profound,
On gravel tracks, where stories sound.
The highs, the lows, the stubborn chain,
The joy of fixing, not in vain.

And when at dusk, with weary eyes,
He sought the glow of YouTube guides,
There helpers spoke through screen and spark,
Their wisdom lit his roadside dark.

So rolled his life on two thin wheels,
A man who valued what endures and feels.
For bikes were more than tools or toys,
They carried his burdens and gave him joys.