By Gary Sosnick ©1995

Well, the sun has set and the weather's right. Radar shows a perfect night.
Leathers donned and a little bit of dough. All gassed up and ready to go.
Got plenty of stress I need to erase. Just enough time to get things straight.
So I'm checking out my favorite haunts--just another midwestern moonlight jaunt.

Tiny hamlet over the rise. Grange hall dance has seen better times.
Silhouette nailed to a barn, signifies each passing farm.
Deer are standing in the road, puzzled by my headlamp's glow.
Sound the horn--they dart away to become some hunter's prey.

I don't want this world to end, or the country folk on whom I depend.
I don't want this city to feed on the honest times I'll always need.

Well, the roadhouse lights comes into view. Likely shoot a game of pool.
Jukebox blasting out Patsy Cline, miles away from the daily grind.
And the best about the life out here, is the people are as they appear.
So I'm checking out my favorite haunts--just another midwestern moonlight jaunt.

High school football lights up the sky. Small town life ignites your pride.
Night air filled with a prairie scent, rooted in the Old Testament.
Darkness hides the latest tract--strip malls, homes on cul-de-sacs.
What was once a pristine lake, is now built up with real estate.

I don't want this world to end, or the country folk on whom I depend.
I don't want this city to feed on the honest times I'll always need.

Well, another inn is up ahead. It's here I'll rearrange my head.
And forget about impending doom, of the countryside the city will consume.
But through the fog I'm moving on, to get back home at the crack of dawn.
So I'm checking out my favorite haunts--just another midwestern moonlight jaunt!

Oh how we love motorcycles. I had a motorcycle and crashed in Detroit. Asta had a motorcyle and crashed in New Zealand. George had a motorcycle and crashed in Alberta. There's something providential about being out in the open, day or night, on a two wheeled motorized gyroscope.