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I owned a FIAT,or in truth.did it own me?
It did break down with a remarkable, clock like 
regularity.
My thin finances, this car did hungrily eat.
As I was sent from being adriver, to walk the street.

But that’s not the whole story, this I want to share with you.
I met people that helped, joked and pushed, way more than just a few.
F.I.A.T is a supposed moniker for “Fix It Again, Tony!
I was so ashamed, but FORD’s moniker, dwells in the realm of the
“esteemed, honored and beloved.... bawdy!

Marines, mothers, friends were used to my regular assistance call!
I remember slipping on a wet street, and taking a painful fall.
Determined was I to get that FIAT to be in shape,
Alas, my finances, did it rape!

One rainy night, I had the worst of luck.
I slid into an American car, like hitting
an overweight, wild buck.
My blue Fiat, alas, had met its final end.
I was knocked out with injuries and a cut across my forehead! 

                        ¥¥¥¥
I still dream of her, and driving across this American, magnificent country.
But if truth be told, the seats were so thin and lumpy.
Making the cross country ride,a litlle more than bumpy!


Note: My Fiat, was the Fiat 600 made in the 50’s. It was so lightweight,
four men could lift her and carry her down the street!


                          3-18-2022

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