Looks like Crate and I are having a poetry duet.
There's a can of Bondo on the bench.
It's replaced the drill and the wrench.
Worked on the chassis for months, weeks and days.
Now it's time for the next phase.
Don't want this roadster to look too shoddy.
So I begin work on the body.
Found the old girl in a dry creek bed.
Some farmer left the Model T for dead.
It was left there to retard erosion.
Poor thing suffered major corrosion.
I don't want my reputation to sully.
If I can't save this refugee from the gully.
The little roadster was twisted, bent and bashed.
Should have left it there, left it for trash.
Don't know if I can work the magic.
Will the results be good or will they be tragic?
I'll beat this thing straight by gosh or by golly.
Into the drawer for my hammer and dolly.
That rusty old tin put up a mighty battle.
Hit it so hard made my false teeth rattle.
Sweat running down, my mouth agape.
Sure enough it began to take shape.
There goes May, there goes June.
Hope this panel beating will be done soon.
After the hammer and dolly ordeal.
The roadster body has some appeal.
Bondo and sanding began in July.
The smell of the resin makes me kinda high.
A skim coat all over should be quick.
I confess in some places it got pretty thick.
Primer, block and sand, sand and block.
You can do it endlessly, around the clock.
How do you know when it's done?
I quit when it is no longer fun.
Finally I squirt some black lacquer paint.
A Riddler winner? no it ain't.
But it's the best one I've done so far
I'll enjoy driving this little car.
And the satisfaction of knowing I did save.
This Model T roadster from its creekside grave.