A little late...

[finger]

just came across this, slightly modified from the original source, so I figured I'd post it rather than loose it between now and next
Christmas:

Twas the night before Christmas, And not until spring
Would a motor be running, not even a 'Wing.

The bikes are all sleeping; they're covered and banked,
Batteries are tended, Sea-Foam in their tanks.

My kids were all nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of new chrome danced in their heads.

And I in my black helmet, bike jacket and boots
Out shoveling snow, and dreaming of scoots.

Then from the horizon there came such a clatter
My shovel I dropped, what could be a matter?

Away up the hill, I slogged through the snow
Looked up at the sky; where'd all that noise go?

Then a throb from the heavens, like straight pipes so hearty
Gave summers' good thoughts, a loud bikers' party.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a brand new red Nomad, with Red Trailer at the rear!

With a little old rider, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than a Deer his Nomad came on,
And he whistled, and shouted, and sang out this song;

'Now, 500! Now, 750! On 15 and 16!
Now 1700! Now Vulcan! On vaquero and All!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now RIDE away! RIDE away! RIDE away all!'

So up to the house-top that Nomad it flew
With a trailer of goodies, and ole' St. Nick too!

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The thunder of pipes that gave me some proof.

I ran in the house, boots thumping around,
And in came St. Nick all bearded and round;

Dressed all in black leather, from baklava to boot
His chaps were all tarnished with road grime and soot;

A T-bag of goodies he'd flung on his back
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack

His shades -- how they twinkled! His do-rag how scary!
Like flames intertwined, through eyes that were cherry!

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
The smoke had a strange smell; it gave him relief.

He had a broad face and a large beer belly
That shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly!

He was weathered and slow, a right mile'd old rider,
So I offered a few shots, thought what could be righter?

A wink of his eye as he downed them with beer,
Gave me to know I had nothing to fear

He spoke not a word, but went straight to my ride
And fixed it with Chrome, Horsepower and Pride.

And giving the peace sign with bikers' good cheer
Strode off to his Nomad that was idling just near.

He sprang on the saddle, his gloves on the bars
A wheelie he threw; then off towards the stars.

I heard him exclaim, as my chest swelled with pride
'MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD RIDE!'

[BudMan]

Better late than never ;)

[AlabamaNomadRider]

Never too late for a good one like that. Thanks for going ahead and posting it.

[Stump]