Your Hard-Top 88
Can this really be year fifty-five that we now celebrate
That day of endless pleasure in your Hard-Top Eighty-Eight?
Old Fred had said to see him wed I’d have to bring a date
Then you were there with flaming hair and Hard-Top Eighty-Eight.
Though six years old it shined like new and you at twenty-four
The loveliest of redheads were, so then and there I swore
That somewhere I would find the nerve to ask you for a date
And one day you and I would fly that Hard-Top Eighty-Eight.
Was that way back in sixty-one? My how the years flew by.
It seems like only yesterday we told old Fred good-bye.
Though that party ended early our trip home would have to wait;
A night of romance beckoned from your Hard-Top Eighty-Eight.
Cross town to Eddie Bohn’s we flew, then Pat and Pat’s till dark,
Then up into the mountains searching out a place to park.
But none could know that night there, nor even speculate
What sparks we would ignite there in your Hard-Top Eighty-Eight.
For that night sparked an inferno that still blazes to this day,
Though some details may be sketchy if not lost along the way.
Yet as dreams rekindle memories may the world commemorate
That birthplace of our endless love, your Hard-Top Eighty-Eight.
Copyright © Warren Dickman | Year Posted 2015
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