The Old Jalopys Miraculous Drive
I remember that ‘69’ Chevrolet
dark green and with the spit
of a combat soldier;
a mean green, power machine.
My Great Uncle bought it new,
his pride and joy for years;
when he died, it became my Parent’s car.
without a single scratch,
they drove it a decade or more.
It was a survivor, you see,
a survivor of the road;
of seemingly endless time.
With missing knobs,
though, the heater and radio
still worked their magic on a drive.
The driver’s side floorboard,
was rusted through and straddling it,
leant an air of danger and excitement,
as it rolled and groaned out it’s
arthritic rhythms.
It rambled along nonetheless,
a chariot for my younger sister’s transport;
it carried her to her classes, her first jobs;
that ever-expanding, floorboard
rust hole continued to grow.
I supposed nowadays,
you’d be fined heavily
for risking such a hazard.
back then, in my family,
a car was not a want,
it was a need and so,
it was heavily utilized.
When I think back about the longevity
of my parent’s automobiles,
it’s the one that stands out the most,
now resting in Chevy Heaven
and I know of no human
with such tenacity.
7-9-19
The Old Jalopy Poetry Contest
craig cornish
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