Hot Rod Poetry

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First Love

I'm sitting here at my keyboard.
Will I write about a Chevy or a Ford?

Or will my mind drift away.
And remember some long lost day.

There's a lot to remember about the past.
Even though it went so fast.

Seems my life began at fifteen.
Got my license, could make the scene.

Needed money there's no doubt.
So I got me a newspaper route.

Saved my pennies and saved my dimes.
These were simpler times.

A hundred twenty five had me hopping.
Now I could go used car shopping.

My sights were set on that Chevy over there.
Two tone green, it was so fair.

A two door hardtop, a nineteen fifty.
Dual pipes, she sure was nifty.

Inside, chrome top bows up above.
This was the one, I was in love.

Big fat salesman with cigar wagging
Said three fifty and I ain't bragging.

This beauty will sell today or tomorrow.
Better get more money, beg, steal or borrow.

I begged and pleaded with my Dad.
But a couple bucks was all he had.

We slowly walked off the lot, I couldn't pay.
Sixty five years later, I sadly remember that day.
It was the day my dream car got away.
 
Sorry I missed this. BobW that last one was a sad one but a good one[cl

So here is one sung to a familiar tune we sang as a kid. I can't remember the name of the tune, but this was a spoof of said tune: (Disclaimer: I am not the author, maybe not for Chev guys)

On a hill far away stood an old Chevrolet and the bumpers were touching the ground

I opened the door, and fell through the floor and the roof was all falling down.

I pulled out the choke, the steering wheel broke, and all I could see was
smoke smoke smoke...

I prayed to the Lord, he brought me a Ford, and towed my old Chevy away...~~~
 
childhood poetry

id like to share ...

totally irrelevant to car stuff, but these have been in my brain for 40years +

I eat my peas with honey
done so all my life
it does taste kinda funny
but it keeps them on my knife..

and the perfectly innocent

two little rabbits
were hopping along
1 rabbit stopped
the other hopped on ...

thanks
 
I like them all, crate. Thanks for contributing.

My attempt at humor. I think I failed.

Love Story II

The snow was swirling, what a blizzard.
It was enough to freeze the deals off a lizard.

Driving my Forty One Ford Coupe,
Was as slippery as greased chicken poop.

Picked up a new gal at her house.
She sneaked out quiet as a mouse.

Cuz her folks thought she was too good for me.
Proves how right parents can be.

She was an athlete, it gave me the fits
I especially liked her whatchamacallits.

We slid on over to Lover's Lane.
She seemed okay, didn't complain.

One thing wrong with my old Ford beater.
It has a lousy defroster and a crappy heater.

So under a quilt we did huddle.
I was hoping that we would cuddle.

And maybe a little bit more.

I got in the groove.
And made my best move.

She looked so delicious.
Didn't know she was vicious.

The pain that I felt.
She was a Black Belt.

Doc says it will heal.
But here's the deal.

You'll always walk with a limp.
 
My Heroes

Disclaimer: Not meant to be factually accurate.

The Surfers

A gentle bump, then another, then around the bend.
The push car was driven by Skinner, my friend.

At the far end we began our quest.
To win the drag meet, to beat the best.

This was the final round.
After this, the winner would be crowned.

I let the clutch out, the engine rotated.
Needed our best run, that can't be debated.

Hit the mag switch, it barked to life.
The tension was so high you could cut it with a knife.

Three hundred ninety two inches of Hemi power.
Enough to make grown men cower.

There was a six seventy one blower on top.
Nitromethane was our pop.

Much sound and fury when it ignited.
The fans in the stands were all excited.

I made the turn to the starting line.
Everything was looking fine.

Over in the other lane,
Was the Swamp Rat, the crowd went insane.

The starter pointed the flag at me
This was before they had the tree.

Gave the flagman a little nod.
Then said a quick prayer to my God.

Concentrated with all my might.
The flagman moved, I took flight.

Smoke and flames all around.
I was flying high, finish line bound.

My motor was running oh so sweet.
A Tom Jobe engine is hard to beat

Just behind me I could hear.
The Swamp Rat gaining, I felt some fear.

The homemade rail began to drift.
But I kept it floored, refused to lift.

We won our biggest race that day
Sixty four fuel cars we did slay.

Three Surfer dudes with little cash.
Won the March Meet, the Bakersfield Bash.

Note: I highly recommend a You Tube series about the Surfers top fuel dragster team. Tom Jobe, the only surviving member of the Surfers is interviewed and it is funny, insightful and inspirational. Sadly, Tom passed away a few years ago.
 
Last edited:
I like them all, crate. Thanks for contributing.

My attempt at humor. I think I failed.

Love Story II

The snow was swirling, what a blizzard.
It was enough to freeze the deals off a lizard.

Driving my Forty One Ford Coupe,
Was as slippery as greased chicken poop.

Picked up a new gal at her house.
She sneaked out quiet as a mouse.

Cuz her folks thought she was too good for me.
Proves how right parents can be.

She was an athlete, it gave me the fits
I especially liked her whatchamacallits.

We slid on over to Lover's Lane.
She seemed okay, didn't complain.

One thing wrong with my old Ford beater.
It has a lousy defroster and a crappy heater.

So under a quilt we did huddle.
I was hoping that we would cuddle.

And maybe a little bit more.

I got in the groove.
And made my best move.

She looked so delicious.
Didn't know she was vicious.

The pain that I felt.
She was a Black Belt.

Doc says it will heal.
But here's the deal.

You'll always walk with a limp.

[cl[cl[cl
 
Thanks Bob, I was always having a hard time finding a word that rhymes with whatchmacallits. :p
 
Thanks Bob, I was always having a hard time finding a word that rhymes with whatchmacallits. :p

Gotta get past the censor, you know.[ddd[ddd

As of right now, there's 11,660 views of this thread. Most published books of poetry sell way less than that. So if you want people to see your compositions, just post them here.
 
Last Call

They say that age is just a number.
I won't waste days in slumber.

Even though I'm old and grey.
I won't fritter away another day.

Won't sit around being bored.
Got myself an early Ford.

A rusty relic, yes indeed.
Gotta fire up that wire feed.

There's lots of dirty work in store.
Had to replace the entire floor.

Underneath needs lots of attention.
So I installed a dropped axle suspension.

My buddies thought I wouldn't dare.
But I rebuilt the engine with loving care.

Even though it's been lots of years.
I still wanted to row through 4 speed gears.

Bodywork, paint and electrical wires.
Painted wheels and bias ply tires.

Through the years collected many a tool.
Used them all to build it "old school".

The days turned to months, the months to years.
But I was happy, didn't shed any tears.

I hesitate to get it done.
Will that be the end of all the fun?

But wait, let's look at the other side.
I can take my hot rod for a ride.

Making the scene at local shows.
See if folks like it, see how it goes.

It's a little tacky, not top shelf.
But I can say I built it myself.

Not a trophy hunter, not chasing gold.
Just having fun as I get old.

I have to thank my friends and wife.
Who helped me regain my hot rod life.

Sure glad I got out of that Lazy Boy.
And built this coupe, my last hot rod toy.
 

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