A rag is just a beater or anything you can imagine. Doesn't have to be a trike or anything.
Imagine you are screaming down the line, waiting for the turbo to kick in, and you see your opponent slowly start overtaking you. GGIIIITTT IITTT RRAAAAGGGGGGG!
In yankee, that'd be "get to it you ragged thing!"
This is my trike. There are many like it but this one is mine. My trike is my best friend, and it is my life. I must master it as I must master myself. My trike without me is useless. Without my trike, I am useless. I must ride my trike true. My trike and I know that what counts is not the amount of miles we ride, but the time we ride together. My trike is human in it's own ways, therefore I will learn it as my brother. I will learn it's weaknesses, it's strengths, it's parts, and it's soul.