Hot Rod Poetry

[05snopro440]

Good one Bob!

[MercuryMac]

What Soltz said.
Good one Bob.

[BillM]

My daughter gave me this poem she had written for Christmas. I apologize for the quality of the photo, it's framed and behind glass so I had a hell of a time trying to get a decent picture of it. She and her brother were home for a visit in the summer (they both live about 90 min away in Toronto). I had taken them out for a ride in the Thriftmaster and she wrote this after the ride. I guess it's not really about a hot rod, but certainly inspired by one. To explain - their mother and I divorced about 20 years ago, and then she passed away in 2015. I remarried so i also have 3 step kids now.

[bob w]

Bill, thank you so much for sharing. Beautiful.

[smallfoot]

That is cool! I would have framed that too...

[soltz]

Very nice!! Thanks for sharing

[MercuryMac]

Very touching, Bill. Thank her for us. Thank you for sharing it.

[DozerII]

Very good poem Bill, I would imagine it brought a tear your eye as it did to mine.

[bob w]

Cruising

Worked hard all day, sweat dripping from my body.
Cooler now, feeling kinda hot roddy.

My roadster is sitting under that big maple tree.
"Come take me for a ride." It's calling to me.

A siren's call I can't resist.
Turn the key with a twist of the wrist.

The mill barks to life with a bit of smoke.
The flathead has power and that's no joke.

Been driving the roadster for 30 odd years.
A little blue smoke won't cause me any fears.

Shift into first, the gears mesh so sweet.
The '39 Ford tranny is old but it's neat.

Down the driveway and turn to the right.
Got plenty of hours before it is night.

Up the hill heading for the stop sign.
I can hear the quick change with it's familiar whine.

Downshift, the rapping pipes sound super.
Yikes! on the shoulder sits a state trooper.

No prob, I recognize officer Mel.
He has louder pipes on his big block Chevelle.

I drive past my daughter's house and it makes me sad.
A while ago we had words and now we're both mad.

Can't worry about it this is a joy ride.
But sometimes the emotions you just can't hide.

A couple miles farther and we're out of town.
So beautiful out here that I lose my frown.

Some of my grandkids went to that little brick school.
That's where they learned "The Golden Rule."

All grown up now, from my life they are gone.
Maybe they'll come see me before too long.

I just went by the Smith brother's farm.
They must have 20 hot rods in that red barn.

Through the years they've had a bit of bad luck.
Hit 12 does, a fat sow and a 12 point buck.

Lots of twists and turns in this old road.
My hot rod is humming, it can handle the load.

Up ahead is the Blacksmith Lounge.
At the swap meets there I love to scrounge.

Lots of shows there in the summer.
Never won a trophy but that's not a bummer.

Visiting old friends and telling a joke.
That's the fun for this old bloke.

Twenty miles farther to the west.
Was where my grandparents farm was, they were the best.

There I spent the summers of my youth.
Raising turkeys, loved it to tell ya the truth.

Stories about Grandpa say he was violent and mad.
To me he was golden, better than a dad.

It was there I learned of hard work and thrift.
For me it was a most important gift.

The farm is long gone and so are they.
Hope to see them again some day.

I point the roadster to the northeast.
She's running fine, such a gentle beast.

Ahead behind all the commercial devastation.
Is a little graveyard, my next destination.

This is where Grandma and Grandpa now reside.
I pay my respects, but my sadness I can't hide.

Heading home on those dusty gravel roads.
The warm air, trees, the wild flowers, the frogs and the toads.

The beauty around me gives me reason.
To enjoy once again the roadster driving season.

I'm happy, I'm sad, but not looking for sympathy.
I accept that my life is a bittersweet symphony.

[DozerII]

Awesome Bob