Test Drive

No sign was posted so I assumed
I was welcome to test drive my bike in the store.
I had to make sure it fit my legs, if the extension
was perfect when I pushed on the pedal,
did I thrust forward with enough momentum
to go down one aisle and up the next?

Was the saddle seat comfortable for my behind?
Were the handlebars adequate for my grip?
Did the chain and gears synchronize smoothly?
Was the basket large enough to carry my goods?
Was pink the best color or did I look better in blue?
Was it light-weight enough for me to maneuver,

yet sturdy enough to grip the road?
I could only discover these answers with a test drive
through the toy aisles and around the corner
past the tools and garden supplies.
If old folks can drive their powered scooters
and moms crowd the aisles with baby strollers

then why is the security guard chasing me?
I’d better head to the check-out counter
and out the door before he can complain
or try to constrain me for breaking the rules,
of which, none were clearly posted. 

Lucky for me my exit is flawless
I ride the bike home like a common outlaw.

My family follows in the mini-van,
cheering me loudly while they pass by
I pedal and pump all the way home
on my new bike from the department store.