Hot Rod Poetry

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Yep all those fine memories .... they all get tucked away in a special place. They've made you what and who you are.

Family, friends, loves, things you've built, folks you've loved, the children you have taught, you guys.

I've always felt if my time came tomorrow they would flicker thru my mind and I would die peacefully with a smile on my face. It's been a good life despite all the mistakes I have made along the way.
Ya Small, even though I was a way too tame for her, I must have had some redeeming qualities.
About fifteen years ago I met her daughter, a tall girl with dirty blonde hair. She seemed to know more about me than any other stranger would. She hugged me, called me uncle and asked me when I dated her mother. I said, "a long time ago", but that wasn't good enough. She then asked, "exactly when". I wracked my brain and came up with a couple of years. I watched her face as she did some math and then let the disappointment show. She really wanted me to be her Dad, but alas I had poor timing. ------- I could have been reading it all wrong, too.

That deserves another "wow". Can't imagine how that "TV movie" scene must've affected you then. The campfire stories we gather along the way.
You guys, my memory is getting old I guess. Today I remembered some more details on the 'Joy in the Super Bee' story. One night, fifty years ago, Joy took her earrings off in my car. --- They're still hanging on the sun-viser. [first pic]
I took a few shots of the inside of the old Super Bee. In one shot you'll see the 'T' handle of a four speed shifter, well, the very next girlfriend in my life hated that standard shifter that was partly worn out. She sometimes had to drive the car, but she grumbled a lot. She was determined, I guess, because she's still with me.


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A few months ago, Earthman generously put up some prize money for this poetry contest. He sent it to me. I was to get something 'hotroddy' with it. I bought some tools. Two hole saws and a driver. These are 'extreme material' ones with carbide tips. They look the same as the ones that are supposed to cut metal but don't last very long if you do. Anyhow, I used the smaller one today to cut some tin and it worked.
Thank You E-man.


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Wow missed a lot. Merc, Love the shoebox Ford.. I always wanted one of those coupes, good catch.

.. and the Superbee as well as the love lost story.

BobW, happy future B Day, I just turned 70, hard to believe it, still kicking. Are you going to make it to Strawberry this year?

And Smallfoot, nice ode to the W.

Couper! Hope by now you got rid of what I call the China Demon.

I shall return with a crazy story and poem or two. Had some recent car issues. Film at 11. I will see if I can poeticize recent boondoggle.
while crate works upon the fleet beans
his faithfull sidechick grows her beans
many plants grow huge thick trunks beans
long tender and many many green beans
we eats the beans every night beans
the alternator on the stude is dodgy beans
charging is all over the place beans
yet when i crank the engine over beans
the voltage drops from 12 to 10.5 beans
im frightened of green poo thanks beans
when i go to town errands to run beans
often on my journey to town last week beans
the stude sounded like 'no start' again beans
but eventually she would fire up beans
another thing i forgot to add beans
was courgettes and pumpkins squash beans
beans if anyone could suggest a fault repair
on crates alternator - a chromium gm beans
and a new recipe for beans beans beans
Whee! Here we go again...

Twenty Three Times

The twenty third time.
It almost seems a crime.

He took the axle out.
And turned round about.

To see if there was a detection.
Of an imperfection.
In the chrome's reflection.

It must be better than the best
To pass his arduous test.

For our man was on a quest.
To build a hot rod that would shame all the rest.

The fourteenth paint job turned out great.
But to him it wasn't straight.

Thought he saw behind the gloss.
That the subtle lines were lost.

And the highlights weren't quite right.
In certain kinds of light.

Parallel lines did not collimate.
On him these things did grate.

His piercing eyes could see.
Flaws that ceased to be.

He started on this odyssey.
When he was only twenty three.

Now seventy three the skills were waning.
Nothing more to be gaining.

Spent his whole life on this obsession.
To one and all let this be a lesson.

This man's hot rod will never be done.
Perfection was his Master, and Perfection won.
I'd been running a cat all summer holidays and there was money burning a hole in my pocket. Not far from my employers place, where I'd picked up my cheque, sat a 1956 Ford two door, for sale.

A Pink Car
My car was pink, when I was a lad,
The colour of salmon and that was bad.
It had a white roof and some of the trim,
But I rattle canned it black just on a whim.
The generous seller threw in a gift,
An automatic, so, no need to shift.
I had to get used to not shifting the gears
Strange as it sounds, that was one of my fears.
The Y-block V-8 that was up in the front,
Had all kinds of revs and plenty of grunt.
It was a high miler, by the look and the feel,
But it did well with young me at the wheel.
That salmon colour’d car sure taught me a lot,
I learned about me and the thrills that I sought.
I learned about girls, but not quite enough
There’s some good times, and some other stuff.
One winter my heater died so I changed it out,
Put a six volt motor in and it howled, no doubt.
My girl went home cold, so I fumed and cursed,
I learned the motor had the polarity reversed.
No matter how fast you turn a squirrel cage fan,
Backwards doesn’t blow air like a real heater can.
I learned quickly that the rear axle can shear,
‘Cause that pink car didn’t have a nine inch rear.
I made a floor shift, bent the lever just so,
But couldn’t get an appropriate throw.
A whole lot of wisdom was gained, I think,
Because I grew up in a car that was pink.


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I'm pretty sure it wasn't called salmon pink, but I don't know the name. There was a coral pink on the Crown Victoria's that was very nice.
I also have a '57 Monarch that is salmon pink and black.


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Good one MercMac [cl

I too remember those color combos, those Canadian FoMos!
So I thought i would put this one to music...The theme from Beverly Hillbillies...

(feel free to sing along....if no one watching....)

Lemme tell a story about the tranny from hell,
I think I mentioned here on the forum I did tell
one day getting off the highway smoke and slipping and a noise
I looked under the car and saw there were no more joys...

Oil that is, red gold....Dexron 4...

So next thing ya know to the tranny shop I go
They seemed to know thier stuff but little did I know
that they misplaced flexplate washers so they didn't use a one
a year later that put an end to all the fun...

Rattling... a bolt laying in my bolt holding it on...

So I crawl under the car and replaced the washers on the bolts,
no more rattling, the trans seemed good with its shift kit jolts
then a few months later the rattling starts some more,
its getting worse so I look and I see cracks galore...

Above my pay help...

This time I take it to a recommended shop,
What the tech found made all our eyes pop...
He found the original washers laying in the cavity of the converter..
It was all I could do to keep from committing murder....

Local Remco, Gave me a great deal, manager owns a classic...

So next time I have a job that I cant repair,
to the Remco guy I go, instead of pulling out my hair
They do everything except tires and aligns...
Its good to have a classic car guy giving peace of minds....

<---insert Scruggs and Flatts bluegrass here-->

Photo below...arrows pointing to cracks and elongated mounting holes.


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lazarat, now I can't get the Beverly Hillbillies theme song out of my head. Fun poem though. Don't stop now.

Mac, your offering stimulated a fair amount of discussion. Good work.

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