The Trouble With Old Cars

An_old_car_in_Provence

As I drove to Minnesota
in a worn out, rusty motor
it went bang, bang, clunky, clunk the whole way there,
with the carburetor sneezing
and the pistons loudly wheezing
it was like a dragon stirring in its lair.

With the fan belt loudly shrieking
and the thermostat, squeak, squeaking,
you could hear me coming fifty miles away,
and the airbag kept inflating
which I found quite irritating
as it smelt just like a rotten sock soufflé.

Then the wipers started jerking
then completely gave up working
so I wiped the rain off with a toilet brush,
but alas it started snowing
and a warning light was glowing
it was just as well I wasn’t in a rush.

But I knew that I was beaten
when the steering wheel was eaten
by some termites that had somehow climbed aboard;
so I’ve given up on driving
as I’m sick of not arriving
and my faith in cars will never be restored.

 


© Barry Hopkins, 2014

Photo by Intermittengardener (CC)

Let All That Are to Mirth Inclined
to be yourself