Cycling Version - Twas the Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the garage
not a car to be seen, not even a Dodge.
The tools were all placed on the table with care,
in case they be needed to perform a repair.

The bikes were nestled all snug in their stands,
with remnants of touring from choice far-off lands.
And Mama in her spandex, and I in my tights,
had just finished stretching and grabbing quick bites

When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
turned out the lights, and pressed up to the glass.

The lights from the passers-by shone on the street,
and I thought that I saw lots of clipped in shoed feet.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a sea of red blinkies stemming from the rear.

They rounded the corner and they all took lefts,
I knew that it must be HHCMFs.
More prepared than Boy Scouts, and carefully planned,
I took note of their bicycles and called them by brand:

"There