Fat pig

I saw a bike today that looked like a fat pig. A black Suzuki with a gargantuan gas tank. A beast on wheels with oil for blood. It brooded at the rear of the dealership basement, the other bikes, bright greens and blues and reds, filling the other aisles.
But this metal creature sat alone. I climbed astride it, and felt as though I were the first to do so, like the monster was lonely and craving someone to care for it. But it's an ugly beast. When I left it, I doubted I'd ever visit again.