Hot Rod Poetry

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What a great poem, crate. I can feel the frustration bubbling up. Maybe writing about it will help you deal with it.

15,500 views. If you want to try your hand at a little writing, this is the place.
Pewie Smelled Good

I knew a girl nicknamed Pewie.
Her father was a mechanic named Louie,

Was an odd name to have in the neighborhood.
Anyway she smelled pretty good.

A combination of girl soap and motor oil.
And other kinds of automobile soil.

She wasn't like most other girls.
Wearing silky dresses with fancy frills.

Grease stained jeans and a Mooneyes Tee.
Was very appealing to a motor head like me.

She didn't know how to get the right sizes.
That stretched fabric sure enhanced her prizes.

We were friends because of a mutual attraction.
We both loved the hot rod action.

On my Chevy we installed three deuces.
She did most of the work, no excuses.

There wasn't a job she couldn't handle.
Most of my friends couldn't hold a candle.

We'd go out at night and talk until dawn.
Never bored, never a yawn.

I'd put my arm around her and pull her next to me.
So I could smell the girl soap and motor oil on Pewie.

She'd kinda get chilly when I'd giver her a hug
And pull away with a smile and a shrug.

She said, "I'm not like most of the girls you knew.
I like Chevys and hot rods, but I like girls too.
Quite the wit![cl I don't know what you did for a living but the way you come up with these, you might have made a second income if you tried. Looks like rhyming flows in you...
Four Days Before

It was the winter of 1959.
My graduation in June went pretty fine.

Now I found myself over my head.
Studying engineering, I'd come to dread.

My friends and I were in need of some fun.
So to the Prom Ballroom we did run.

It was Teenage Night at the dance.
Would I meet a nice girl? there was a chance.

Leo and I hopped into Jerry's Merc.
Off we went with a bump and a jerk.

Jerry managed to come up with some brew.
Couple of cans and my dancing confidence grew.

The Prom Ballroom was a magnificent place.
Crystal lights and red carpet gave it style and grace.

To the left was the dance floor surrounded with many a booth.
Big as two hockey rinks to tell you the truth.

The hardwood floor was polished to a luster.
Soon I'd be dancing if the courage I could muster.

There was a big stage all set for the show.
Flood lights and stage light all aglow.

And who this night would the rock group be?
A special night, not one act but three.

Out came the house band to get us all dancing.
Many girls paired up and were prancing.

I saw a pretty blonde that really looked neat.
The kind of girl I would like to meet.

The couple of beers made me a bit bolder.
Went up to her partner and tapped her on the shoulder.

We had a slow dance and a pleasant talk.
Then to her booth we did walk.

There was no boy's class ring on her finger.
Was hoping she would invite me to sit and linger.

Then the band started playing real slow and low.
The announcer said it was time for the show.

Out came a cool cat, didn't know his face.
Until the Big Bopper started singing Chantilly Lace.

The crowd was rocking and swaying to the tune.
But the Bopper's act was over quite soon.

Richie Valens came out and sang all his hits
Drove all the girls out of their wits.

Nothing could make the night any more jolly.
Until out on the stage came the great Buddy Holly.

Here was the best in our own dance hall.
We were shucking and jiving and having a ball.

Everybody was dancing as if we were one.
A thousand kids never had so much fun.

Memories fade but somehow I know.
I'll always remember that rock and roll show.

A few days later in a small Iowa town.
A light plane took off, but tragically went down.

(Yes, I was there.)
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Many years back i was on a one of the first boards supported by a car magazine. I had found an interesting foto of an abandoned rusty fifties Cadillac and for some reason was inspired to write a short poem about it. I was kind of proud of the poem and it was fun to write about the picture but it got a cold reception. :D The board wasn't well moderated and once the girly pictures took over it died.
I Love My Hot Rod Because It's Dumb

Been a while so here goes:

In this modern day and age.
When Artificial Intelligence is all the rage.

Even my toaster is smarter than me.
It has an I.Q. of a hundred and three.

If I have a furniture idea.
Alexa will report it to IKEA.

Bought a new car the other day.
The 600 page manual blew me away.

Does my car have to be this smart?
To make the trip to the local Walmart?

So much computer power in new cars
You could fly 'em all the way to Mars.

Speed control, lane control automating stopping.
Wish it could keep my wife from shopping.

Keyless entry, security sentry, back up TV.
The car drives itself, it hardly needs me.

Sixteen speakers of HiFi sound.
Digital features all around.

Just because you sit behind the wheel.
Anymore you aren't a big deal.

All of this is called automotive progress.
I love my Hot Rod, it has so much less.

My Hot Rod sits in place of honor.
In the shop, not a speck of dust on her.

It takes her and me to make her go.
Whether to the store or to a show.

Turn a chrome handle to open the door.
Adjust the seat, lever near the floor.

Pull the choke, pump the gas.
Push the starter button, she responds with sass.

Let her warm up for a bit.
When those ponies are ready she will really git.

Push the clutch pedal to the floor.
Move the shift lever like I've done many times before.

Just a little sound of gears meshing.
Driving my Hot rod is such a blessing.

Roll down the window with the crank.
Air conditioning! I have Nature to thank.

On the road now going sixty.
The sight, the smell, the sound, sure is nifty.

A little vibration through the floor.
The rumbling exhaust I do adore.

The feel of the road through the steering wheel
This is what driving is, this is real.

Oh what pleasure I get from my Hot Rod car.
But the new one is better, better by far.

Yes, it's almost perfect, it meets every goal.
But unlike my Hot Rod, it has no soul.
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Hard Lunch

I'm going to try to bring over one of my poems about eating and driving.

No, I guess I'm not bringing it over. We just bought the new WORD program and I was hoping it would work. :(:(
I'm going to try to bring over one of my poems about eating and driving.

No, I guess I'm not bringing it over. We just bought the new WORD program and I was hoping it would work. :(:(

Mac, just retype it here. Please. We need more poeteers.[cl

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