This poem is for Mr. Oliver, our wonderfully unique wrench
A man who is not only smart but can do 350lb on bench
He’s a dude of many talents, as many of you well know
If you get him drunk and ask nicely, he may show you his “gun show”
Of course he fixes our steeds and even washes them too
But he also gives them his love like only special mechanics do
But there’s even more to this quiet man with all his colorful tats
Though he looks as though he may bite the heads off of bats
His patience is unparalleled, when dealing with high-strung spoiled pros
I wonder why he doesn’t just whoop our ass and feed us to the crows
He’ll consume nothing but coffee and beer for a stage race of 5 days
And then he’ll drive the van home in a drunken, sleep-deprived haze
And don’t be fooled by his scraggly beard and his worn cargo shorts
The man has a better vocabulary than the famous Will Shortz
You may catch him in a corner, reading Waltman, Poe, or Joyce
And this is no assignment mind you, this is his free choice!
Many say his calves are sculpted better than Arnold in his prime
So our mechanic may be juiced, how is that a crime?
And then there’s the team van, this part is hard to describe
He has this special relationship, way more than with the Vibe
He’ll drive that van for hours on end, with his foot firmly affixed to the pedal
Fueled by nothing but caffeine and seeds, while his Ipod blasts Death Metal
Bathroom breaks? Yeah right – those are for the weak!
Those bench seats have essence of sweaty Ben; one might say they reek
It’s considered his permanent residence, that much is for sure
He spends more time in that thing than any human should, anyone will concur
But that’s why we love him, he does all this without complaint
I even heard one time he applied Bag Balm to Garrett’s infected taint
Maybe that’s not true, but I know this for shizzle
We’re lucky to have Benno for 2008 on team Bissell!