bob w
Still crazy after all these years!
The sparrow and I thank you.
Hot Rod Poetry
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bob w
Still crazy after all these years!
It was a cold winter night in Minnesota.
The temperature hadn't raised one iota.
Fifteen below zero.
Didn't phase our hero.
The northwind was raising tendrils of snow.
The rafters creaked as it continued to blow.
The barrel stove glowed a comforting red.
The shop was as warm as the beach at Club Med.
Our man was getting on in his years.
Surely no longer wet behind the ears.
People say these years are golden.
People that say that, they aren't olden.
Sitting on the bench stool, forgot what he was doing.
Deep in his brain a notion was brewing.
Been working on cars since he was fifteen.
Maybe it was time to retire from the scene.
Just getting up off the floor.
Had become a laborious chore.
The idea he forgot just came to the fore.
Finish this hot rod, then he'll be eighty-four.
Should get it done working at this pace.
Oops, found another project on Facebook Marketplace.
The temperature hadn't raised one iota.
Fifteen below zero.
Didn't phase our hero.
The northwind was raising tendrils of snow.
The rafters creaked as it continued to blow.
The barrel stove glowed a comforting red.
The shop was as warm as the beach at Club Med.
Our man was getting on in his years.
Surely no longer wet behind the ears.
People say these years are golden.
People that say that, they aren't olden.
Sitting on the bench stool, forgot what he was doing.
Deep in his brain a notion was brewing.
Been working on cars since he was fifteen.
Maybe it was time to retire from the scene.
Just getting up off the floor.
Had become a laborious chore.
The idea he forgot just came to the fore.
Finish this hot rod, then he'll be eighty-four.
Should get it done working at this pace.
Oops, found another project on Facebook Marketplace.
there was a hairline crack in an old leaded seem
there in the panel just under the rear screen
i fired up my heating torch to melt lead out
i burnt my thumb badly and a bad word got out
three small rusty holes just there underneath
the burr drill through safety specs i peeked
some rotten metal in behind hiding from sight
i cut a two inch square hole to find a bigger blight
yes it went further a third panel was missing parts
theres two inner panels, and yes my thumb smarts
so now my hole is bigger inches six by four
remembering my bodyman skills from time before
new parts made oh look there is some more
disappeared under the window frame sheesh
now i will need to make an even bigger piece
i can see trunk lid hinge, so i melt more lead
then trim out a bigger chunk for a tidy bed
now im up to shaping and small edge trimming
and yes my excitement is really brimming
i still have the other side to do, its the same
the trunk lid will fit better now rust is gone
because now that rear panel wont flex
thanks Mr Studebaker, i made a better fix..
there in the panel just under the rear screen
i fired up my heating torch to melt lead out
i burnt my thumb badly and a bad word got out
three small rusty holes just there underneath
the burr drill through safety specs i peeked
some rotten metal in behind hiding from sight
i cut a two inch square hole to find a bigger blight
yes it went further a third panel was missing parts
theres two inner panels, and yes my thumb smarts
so now my hole is bigger inches six by four
remembering my bodyman skills from time before
new parts made oh look there is some more
disappeared under the window frame sheesh
now i will need to make an even bigger piece
i can see trunk lid hinge, so i melt more lead
then trim out a bigger chunk for a tidy bed
now im up to shaping and small edge trimming
and yes my excitement is really brimming
i still have the other side to do, its the same
the trunk lid will fit better now rust is gone
because now that rear panel wont flex
thanks Mr Studebaker, i made a better fix..
soltz
The Rat Captain
Bob, thanks for sharing your thoughts, I’m looking at 80 in July and I’ve slowed down all ready 
. But as they say “the all turnery is not great”
Take care and rest often!
. But as they say “the all turnery is not great” Take care and rest often!
MercuryMac
Builder Junky!
Good stuff, Bob and Crate. You are keeping this thread going in fine fashion.
Keep on it.
Keep on it.
bob w
Still crazy after all these years!
I know a guy lives life straight and narrow.
Says when he dies he'll be buried in his Camaro.
Most song lyrics don't make sense.
I sing along, there's no expense.
Where would the Captain be without Tennille?
Singing about muskrats would have no appeal.
It was an SS with a 327 and 4 speed.
Betcha he doesn't do the burying deed.
After he's gone he'll not know.
Probably his kid will sell it for dough.
Did Simon really need Garfunkel?
About as useful as a carbuncle.
Never sang about the blues.
Sang about diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
Used to race the Camaro on the strip and street.
Claimed he never got beat.
That's how legends come to be.
Lies become truth, can't you see?
Parked in a shed for thirty years.
Remembered past glories over hundreds of beers.
America sang about a horse with no name.
Just give the thing a name.
Well, then there wouldn't be a song, would there?
The world wouldn't have lost much, to be fair.
Saw the Camaro in front of a Funeral Home.
Weather checked paint and pitted chrome.
Its days of glory long since ceased.
And my friend obviously deceased.
I went inside.
The band was playing "Ride Captain Ride."
And there upon the alter were his ashes, bone, muscle and marrow.
All stuffed inside a little toy Camaro.
Says when he dies he'll be buried in his Camaro.
Most song lyrics don't make sense.
I sing along, there's no expense.
Where would the Captain be without Tennille?
Singing about muskrats would have no appeal.
It was an SS with a 327 and 4 speed.
Betcha he doesn't do the burying deed.
After he's gone he'll not know.
Probably his kid will sell it for dough.
Did Simon really need Garfunkel?
About as useful as a carbuncle.
Never sang about the blues.
Sang about diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
Used to race the Camaro on the strip and street.
Claimed he never got beat.
That's how legends come to be.
Lies become truth, can't you see?
Parked in a shed for thirty years.
Remembered past glories over hundreds of beers.
America sang about a horse with no name.
Just give the thing a name.
Well, then there wouldn't be a song, would there?
The world wouldn't have lost much, to be fair.
Saw the Camaro in front of a Funeral Home.
Weather checked paint and pitted chrome.
Its days of glory long since ceased.
And my friend obviously deceased.
I went inside.
The band was playing "Ride Captain Ride."
And there upon the alter were his ashes, bone, muscle and marrow.
All stuffed inside a little toy Camaro.
smallfoot
He's rockin' the "Nuttin Special"!
Very good Bob!
