Ode to the Screaming Asphalt

I saddled my bike, my iron-winged steed,
Fueled by bad coffee and questionable need.
With a bellow of thunder and a curse to the sky,
I vowed, "By this mustache, today I shall fly!"

The Earth split asunder, the heavens did quake,
As I revved that poor engine far past its brake.
A tumbleweed challenged me—sword drawn in pride
But I drop-kicked that coward and continued my ride.

Over mountains that whispered, through valleys that screamed,
I punched a tornado (or maybe I dreamed).
I leapt o’er a canyon, with nothing but guts,
And landed in Texas... direct on my butt.

In Utah, I battled a gang of wild goats,
Armed only with sass and a ketchup-stained coat.
Through fields full of tumblebots (robots, but sad),
I juked and I jived like a motorcycle dad.

The sun tried to kill me with fire and spite,
But I wore SPF "Too-Late" and laughed through the fight.
I wrestled a cactus. I argued with sand.
I gave a raccoon fifty bucks and a band.

Yet somewhere near Memphis, delirious and free,
I dueled my own shadow for custody of me.
Victory uncertain, with bugs in my teeth,
I crowned myself King of the Highway Beneath.

At last, battered, heroic, part-legend, part-smog,
I rolled into glory, one with the fog.
Men wept, women fainted, a dog wrote a song
For I'd crossed this great nation...
While everything went wrong.