NINETEEN FORTY

The first time I saw her she was all dirty and rusted

The hood was unbolted and a wind wing was busted

The farmer said, “No way can you make that car run.

It’s been sittin’ there for a spell, since about ‘fifty one.”

I drained the gas tank all I could of all that old, stale gas

It looked so forlorn sitting in the tall weeds and grass

Pulled the plugs and squirted in a bunch of Lock-Ease

It was hot that spring as there was not a sign of a breeze.

I sweated over that old car doing all I knew how to do

What if I did something wrong and the old engine blew?

I was having nightmares during the middle of the day

“Just let it start, just let it run home,” is what I’d pray.

The old farmer had tired of watching me work on junk

I gapped the old plugs and cleaned out some more gunk

Couldn’t afford new so I did with what I had at my hand

I was working on my hotrod the way I’d always planned.

I put in the battery I’d brought when I had come for the Ford

I’d charged it up at the gas station and it was all I could afford

I sat behind the wheel, turned the key and pushed the button

It turned over. It belched a putrid cloud like a noxious glutton.

I sat there all dismayed until I heard the farmer yell, “Let ‘er rip.”

I backed off the gas pedal from a major flood to just a wee sip

The old engine caught on the second turn and began to purr

Something must have gotten in my eyes for they had a blur.

Is it possible for a boy to love a car so much, it comes to life,

It is his life’s companion just as surely as any girl is a wife?

That’s how it was between me and that old nineteen forty Ford

It took all the money that I made but it was the best I could afford.

© Spider ‘09