I am yellow and black. I am not perfect

I am drawn twoards the fresh snow

Full throttle, needed or not.

I am not trashed just worn-

My track and windshield show it.

Most of my life I am obsurving a garage door.

It is tan with metal bars.

My real heart is the trailor doors though, that means its time to ride.

I am usually blinded by snow untill I see the garage door again.

Now I am a trailor. I feel weight on my axle,

One by one I feel more and more weight.

I hold my breath while going down the frost heaved roads’

I look back and I am thankful I did not snap

I am rewarded with the weight being taken off my axle

I am important to the weight, it comes and goes.

It could be months before the weight comes back

But when it does I just hold my breath and don’t break

Cause if I do the weight will be gone.