Found this on the CBR list...

By Cathy Seckman
copyright 1993

'Twas right before Christmas, time for one last bike ride,
Before cold winds convinced me to stay warm inside.
I wheeled out the Beemer, put up the side stand,
Popped out the clutch, waved goodbye with one hand.

It was frosty and bleak; the sunshine was thin.
A great day for a ride, if you don't mind cold shins.
"This isn't quite worth it," I said through blue lips.
"I love motorcycling, but this is the pits."

I was headed back home, going to call it a day,
When I spied a hitchhiker on down the highway.
He was dressed all in red, but his face was so sad
That I couldn't pass by; I'd have felt much too bad.

His eyes didn't twinkle; his face wasn't merry.
But he looked so familiar I just had to tarry.
I pulled off the road, gave the sidestand a kick,
And said, "Son of a gun, you must be St. Nick!"

"I guess I am that," he said with a sigh.
"But I'm feeling so bad now that Christmas is nigh."
I couldn't believe what the little man said.
Maybe, I thought, he'd been hit on the head.

"No, that isn't it," he said with a frown.
"It's those half-witted reindeer. They've all let me down."
Rudolph and Blitzen said, "Boss, take a hike.
We're tired of this, we're going out on strike!"

"They've got in their heads they want holidays free.
Now how will the presents get under the trees?
What will the kids think? What will I do?
I can't disappoint them. Maybe I'll sue."

St. Nick had a problem, that seemed very plain.
My holiday spirit went right down the drain.
I wanted to help - to make everything better,
For the sake of the times Santa answered my letters.

I could give him a lift - a ride on my bike.
We'd deliver the presents. Let Rudolph strike.
But St. Nick shook his head. "I'm afraid that won't do.
That's a nice little cycle, but there's not room for two."

He was right, I discovered. With Santa's big sack,
There's be room just for one, and not at the back.
I knew what to do, the answer was clear.
St. Nick could ride solo. I'd lend him my gear.

I pulled off my helmet and said, "Here you go.
Just lean in the curves and take it real slow.
St. Nick was nervous, I could tell by his voice.
But he hitched up his belt and said, "I've no choice.

"The kids must have presents; the reindeer have struck.
So I'll travel by cycle. You know, Rudolph's a schmuck."
I gave more instructions, showed him the drill.
He practiced awhile, then said, "What a thrill!"

"I love the sensation of wind in my beard,
This really is fun! Not at all what I feared."
I smiled as I watched him, I knew what he meant.
St. Nick was a biker - a right jolly old gent!

I helped load the presents - the hour was near
For St. Nick to deliver, as he does every year.
But this time was different. Because of the strike,
The gifts would all come on the back of my bike.

I was terribly proud. One tear filled my eye
As I wished him good luck and raised my arm high.
Then I heard him exclaim as he popped out the clutch,
"Merry Christmas to you, and thanks very much!"