Friday, February 20, 2009

Riddle Poem

I glide like a snowboard in powder,
while leaving a path like a jet in air.
Of my aftermath lives are wrenched,
through which they rise with care.
I am controlled by my owner and his friends who burden me,
along with sights that all men like to see.
Pushing me to pull.
Spinning me to steer.
I am often used while my operators drink beer.

(what am I?)