They are the only ones who protect me.  I am the only one who can control them. Two precise tires with sleek looks and curvy tread. Two who exceed all limits. Two definite tires gripping the pavement. From my couch i can see them, but my mom says i'm dreaming.

Their precision is secret. They deliver gripping force to the pavement. They grow tread and they lose tread and grip the pavement between their angled tread and shred the roads with absolute precision and never fail.  This is how they cycle.

Let one not get too c***y for he will see, you can not man handle these delicate treasures, each with its sleek and curved design. Turn, turn, turn they do when I ride. They guide.

When they are too worn and too bald to keep guiding, when they are tired and depleted, then it is I who is sad. When there is no more tread to grip the road.  Two who grew tired. Two who reached limits never reached before. Two whose only reason was to guide and train.