Login
|
Join PoetrySoup
Home
Submit Poems
Login
Sign Up
Member Home
My Poems
My Quotes
My Profile & Settings
My Inboxes
My Outboxes
Soup Mail
Contest Results/Status
Contests
Poems
Poets
Famous Poems
Famous Poets
Dictionary
Types of Poems
Quotes
Short Stories
Articles
Forum
Blogs
Poem of the Day
New Poems
Resources
Syllable Counter
Anthology
Grammar Check
Greeting Card Maker
Classifieds
Member Area
Member Home
My Profile and Settings
My Poems
My Quotes
My Short Stories
My Articles
My Comments Inboxes
My Comments Outboxes
Soup Mail
Poetry Contests
Contest Results/Status
Followers
Poems of Poets I Follow
Friend Builder
Soup Social
Poetry Forum
New/Upcoming Features
The Wall
Soup Facebook Page
Who is Online
Link to Us
Member Poems
Poems - Top 100 New
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Best
Poems - by Topic
Poems - New (All)
Poems - New (PM)
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Random
Poems - Read
Poems - Unread
Member Poets
Poets - Best New
Poets - New
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems Recent
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poets - Top 100 Contest
Famous Poems
Famous Poems - African American
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Haiku
Famous Poems - Love
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100
Famous Poets
Famous Poets - Living
Famous Poets - Most Popular
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poets - African American
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Cinquain
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Haiku
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Love
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Punjabi
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Spanish
Famous Poets - Suicidal
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - War
Poetry Resources
Anagrams
Bible
Book Store
Character Counter
Cliché Finder
Poetry Clichés
Common Words
Copyright Information
Grammar
Grammar Checker
Homonym
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Lyrics
Love Poem Generator
New Poetic Forms
Plagiarism Checker
Poetics
Poetry Art
Publishing
Random Word Generator
Spell Checker
Store
What is Good Poetry?
Word Counter
Email Poem
Your IP Address: 3.145.130.31
Your Email Address:
Required
Email Address Not Valid.
To Email Address:
Email Address Not Valid.
Required
Subject
Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
It is the winter of 1980. I’m twenty-eight years young, Driving a red Mustang with glass T-tops, Feeling all of my awesome sassiness, from toe To Afro, when I notice the cards driving ahead of me Are all slowing way down. A wreck? Can’t be because nobody stops. I’m a young mother of three, in a business suit, on my way to work. This is irritating; why do these old people drive on the Interstate anyway? Don’t we have side streets and side cars for them? Thoroughly annoyed, I flip my car into the fast lane, and show them how to drive. Five minutes later, my Mustang and I are airborne, flying in the air away from the freeway. We are at a 90 degree angle to the road, at least twenty feet from it now. We flip upside down, which means I will most assuredly be killed when I land upside down on these glass t-tops. I’ll be leaving my husband to raise 3 children. The primal urge to save myself kicks in and I instantly yell, “God, help me!” God smiled, opened up His arms, put a giant palm under my car, and Flipped us the complete opposite direction in mid-air. That red Mustang and I landed with a puff sound, in a huge drift of snow which met her Half way up her windows, and a whirl of smoke like flakes. I watched an older gentleman in a business suit, classic hat, and fancy black wool coat park his Car on the emergency lane. This was before cell phones. He began to inch his way down the embankment, toward my car. I watched the snow creep up to his knees, reaching his waist before he finally reached me. I lowered my window a bit and he asked, “Are you hurt?” “I don’t think so.” “Can you walk?” I laugh, “I’m not sure I can get out of this drift,” I tell him. He asks for my long-handled snow scraper, and gets me out in about six minutes. I grabbed my purse, and we both retraced his steps back to his car. He cranked up the heat, and asked me where I wanted to go. To work, of course. I feel humiliated, embarrassed, ashamed of what I had been thinking about him earlier, and humble. I cannot even look at this wet man, this good Samaritan who has treated me with such kindness. “What happened out there?” He asks me. I look at him, but he is concentrating heavily on the road, so I lie and say “I don’t know.” He takes a deep breath and says, “I used to work in a pit crew at the Indy 500, I did that for seven years. Your car was flipping. You were supposed to flip! I thought you were a goner. I’ve never seen a car do what yours just did. How did you DO that? A car just doesn’t right itself like that. It can’t happen.” I yelled, ‘God help me!’ I told him. We drove the rest of the way in silence, until I got out and thanked him, at work. That night my Mustang was featured on the news. My husband and I watch a tow truck break its chain as it tried to pull my car out of a ninety-two foot ditch. The news anchor said it took two tow truck drivers and two tow trucks to get “this car” out of the ditch. The news anchor adds that when they pulled out the car, they noticed it had landed on a large metal drainage ditch, so wasn’t it lucky that the car had not flipped because it had glass T-tops.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required