A motorcycle old and worn, Once a thing of pride and scorn, Sits in pieces on the floor, Its engine silent, heart no more.

But in the hands of one who knows, A skilled mechanic, the engine glows, With wrench and hammer, skillful art, The motorcycle mends, a work of heart.

Each bolt, each screw, each wire and hose, Is cleaned and fixed, with care he shows, His hands move quick, a rhythmic beat, With every turn, the engine speaks.

The fuel ignites, the pistons roar, The wheels spin fast, the engine soars, A thing of beauty, a work of art, The motorcycle shines, with new start.

The rider climbs aboard with glee, The wind in hair, the throttle free, The road ahead, a journey long, The motorcycle sings, a brand-new song.

With every mile, a memory made, Of the motorcycle, once afraid, Now strong and true, a trusted steed, A bond of trust, a loyal creed.

So if your motorcycle's old and gray, Don't throw it out, don't give away, Find a mechanic with skilled hand, And see your motorcycle take a stand.

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