READY, FIRE, AIM
(the Road to Robley)

A weekend away! Directions in hand!
I read them aloud as we traveled the land.
"Follow this road, drive north in your car.
If you get to Robley, boy, you've gone too far."

I said aloud, "Look here what he wrote"
"There's genius here in this little note."
And then I knew, and I said to my wife
"Shoot, I've gone to Robley all of my life!"

When I was kid, with my buddy Mike
I bet I could jump Stinson creek on my bike.
The flight was grand, the landing was rough.
I'd gone too far, but not far enough.

And then there I was, a hot callow youth.
I'm finding myself! I'm searching for truth!
You could have found me, and not looked too far.
I was in Robley, underage in a bar.

And now I'm a young man! The best of times!
(Or worst, if you count all of those social crimes.)
Those mornings after, with that sense of doom.
When, ooh, I'd recall: "I said WHAT to WHOM?

Reason is roadkill and etiquette wrecks.
The road to Robley is littered with dreck.
Business plans, bar tabs, interpretive dance.
Jokes not untold. Paisley print pants!

That extra helping! Attentions remiss!
Errors preceded by two words: "Watch This!'
Spectacular schemes! Impetuous bets!
Pre-cooked delusions with postponed regrets.

I've been so many times, you'd think I'd have learnt.
Soon as I get there I wish that I weren't.
And, sad to say (this won't shock you, my friend).
I'll find my way back to Robley again

Are you heading to Robley? Want to go, just the same?
Just follow my motto "Ready, Fire, Aim."

-- Steve Stinson