Hot Rod Poetry

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Right Said Fred

I wake up with many aches and some pain.
It's beginning to affect my tired, old brain.

Maybe it's because my bed is lumpy.
That I wake up all sore and grumpy.

Get dressed and ready to shop.
My roadster starts with a grind and a pop.

Off I go to the bedding store.
To find something comfy, that will let me snore.

Salesman says, "this one will give you good rest".
"Go ahead, try it, give it a test".

There in front of me is a beautiful mattress.
So I take off my shoes, and start to undress.

Just about ready to drop my drawers.
When the salesman runs over and begins to roar.

"Sorry" I said, "not trying to be rude".
"But you see, I always sleep in the nude".

I put on my clothes outside the place.
Salesman says, "I don't want to see your face".

"Or any other part of you".

So into my roadster I do hop.
I'm off to the hot rod repair shop.

To this I must confess.
My roadster is quite a mess.

The guy that sold me the car.
Said that everything was up to par.

But the brake pedal goes to the floor.
And there's a leak in the radiator core.

The steering is very sloppy.
And the rear end is quite hoppy.

The shop says they can make the repair.
Soon I'll be driving without a care.

So I went to some local shows.
Old time rodders looked down their nose.

Even though my roadster is very cool.
Said I was a fake, don't even own a tool.

I was really hoping to fit in.
I didn't build it is that a sin?

Hot rods I love as much as anyone.
Just cos I bought it, is that a reason to shun?

So I asked the guy who was picking on me.
"You have another hobby? What might it be"?

"I'm a pro bass fisherman, don't mean to gloat".
"Ah" I said, "But did you build your own boat"?

Then a light bulb lit in his head.
"I see what you mean, I'm sorry, Fred".

There's builders and buyers.
There's showers and shiners.
There's drivers and lawn chair riders.

The thing that unites us is most important by far.
It's our mutual love for the hot rod car.
 
Touche', Bob.
I follow in your footsteps, Bob, well, up to taking my shoes off to lie on a new mattress. And I've tried to argue with guys who discriminate against others. I find that discriminators are emotional thinkers and showing them a lot of logic doesn't usually sway them.
Good one, Bob.
 
Touche', Bob.
I follow in your footsteps, Bob, well, up to taking my shoes off to lie on a new mattress. And I've tried to argue with guys who discriminate against others. I find that discriminators are emotional thinkers and showing them a lot of logic doesn't usually sway them.
Good one, Bob.

Right you are about swaying those guys.
 
Yes, hot rodding is a big tent. But there's lots of little rooms inside. Some folks have trouble appreciating what is in the other rooms. To my way of thinking, that's okay. Specialize. Go with what you like. It's normal to have "likes" and "dislikes".

Just remember the basic rules of civility.

And, if there is an outside threat, we support each other.
 
so im sure it wasnt that long ago
in a "X2" holden cruising we did go
2 in the front and one in the back
beer bravado we hit the track

a raised one lane bridge at night
suburbia was sleeping one for a fright
"dukes of hazard" i said to my bud,
we sped to the bridge, lights a-flood

the lead up to the bridge allowed flight
at least ten feet long we flew that night
less speed a little less at the other end.
fear etched on our back seat freind

us in two in the front decided to do it again
the one in the back "no dont!" he complained
we turned to see 2 feet on the doors
one hand on the roof one on the floor

feet were stretched, his toes clawed
off we took, the accelerator floored
we flew of the end wild a wild yell
except for one who said very little

off we roared into the night
two of giggling fancy free
that dam car flew at least 10 feet
twice that night, at least the same

in one nasty fright the exhaust growling
and the neighbourhood sleeping

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holden_HD
 
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You brought back memories, Crate. My cousin Doug and I grew up together and we could have been the guys in your car. Doug would have been the guy roaring over the raised bridge gap, ---- and I would have been the guy in the back with the unheard voice of reason, holding on to everything.
We were very different, Doug and me, but we got along well, because, without his wild grandiose dreams, I would have had no life. And without me injecting some logic and reason in once in a while, he wouldn't have had a very long life.
Thank you for the poem, Crate.
 
You brought back memories, Crate. My cousin Doug and I grew up together and we could have been the guys in your car. Doug would have been the guy roaring over the raised bridge gap, ---- and I would have been the guy in the back with the unheard voice of reason, holding on to everything.
We were very different, Doug and me, but we got along well, because, without his wild grandiose dreams, I would have had no life. And without me injecting some logic and reason in once in a while, he wouldn't have had a very long life.
Thank you for the poem, Crate.


hahahaaha people like that make for a good world !! the driver and i carried doing crazy things ... the rear seat guy .. we lost touch with him not too long after that .although he did get into local drag racing scene joining the club for several years

. finally thanks Mac,, glad you enjoyed it !!

thanks Soltz.., :cool:
 
It brought back memories for me too, crate.

1958. Around midnight. 1957 Olds 88. Ed's Daddy's Car. Going about as fast as it would go. My girlfriend of the moment and I in the back seat. Dark country black top road. Stop sign ahead. Too late. We hit the high crown cross road at speed and did a "Dukes of Hazard" launch.
No seat belts. On the rebound my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend hit her head on the rear window garnish molding and almost went to sleep.
No beer was spilled.

Thank you for posting. Your poem was fun.
 
The story by bob and the poem by crate
trying to fly when at night and late
reminds me of things that make me lose breath
...how the hell did we escape death...
 
This one isn't for everyone. In fact, if Tripper thinks it doesn't belong, it won't bother me if it is deleted.

Happy

I try to be happy, but I find I am sad.
The world, like a rotten apple, is going bad.

Turn on the radio to get the news.
Nothing good, I get the blues.

Working in the shop all day and night.
Just to stay away from it, it gives me a fright.

Eventually I go to bed.
A song by the Gratefull Dead.

Keeps playing in my head.
Then another song that I dread.

Jim Morrison comes through a Door.
"The End" echoes in my dream, torments me some more.

I awake from sleep but get little rest.
Knowing the world is going through a test.

A little blue coat, little blue boots.
Along side a mother in a soiled grey suit.

Lying in the street, blood trickling down a drain.
These are the images coming from Ukraine.

Into the shop, get my mind off thinking.
God, why did I ever stop drinking?

Building a hot rod is pretty good therapy.
But it can't blunt the images that my mind can see.

Can't help it, I'm filled with guilt.
People are dying, still my hot rod gets built.

Lunch with buddies, I try to be convivial.
My hot rod passion, right now, seems so trivial.

Back in the shop, I give it another try.
Don't look now, you might see a grown man cry.
 
I was going to write a poem to say,
that I feel exactly the same way
but this poem I would cleverly write
for this forum it may not be right

I rhymed war and the final tribulation
with the rising price at the gas station
and many more, yes I did rhyme
like the rise in food prices as well as crime

But for now I will eat my Wendy's egg biscuit
.....and figure out my front disc kit
Yes it came yesterday, so something to do
I am keeping the faith, we all should too
 

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