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My Old Servi-Car

The Servi-car is my steed;

I shall not walk

It maketh me to lie down beneath it

It leaveth me stranded in deep waters

It vexeth my soul

It leadeth me in the path of ridicule;

For its name’s sake


Yea, though I ride through the valleys

I am towed up the hills

I fear all evil for my spark plug corrodeth

My vexations accompany me

My rods and my bolts–My chains and my bearings

Discomfort me


It preparest a puncture of flesh in the presence of trouble

It anointest my hands with grease on the double

My oil leaketh out

My tank rendered dry


Then from afar, in the blink of an eye

Startled and sudden

Up goes the cry, the cry of dismay, yet amazed none the less

With what enters their gaze from right and from left


A crowd now appears 

And certainly I may say that not a one of them jeers nor giggles this day

Upon the land they do hearken unto me

From near and afar and across black topped sea

Yon, on far side of green grocer store parking lot I do see; from whence it is that they have come unto me, this lot; of man, woman and child, of which they seem to be as of one, they have all come


They come of all ages, the young and the old

 The shy and the bold

They all gather among us, and as I’m now told…It is their fervent desire, and not an object of ire…To behold, this iron of old


From grandpas with fond memories

And stories of old and to tots who are bold

The youngsters with fantasies and

Of rides yet to behold

Folklore and more, you’ll see are in store


Oh to be sure these boys have no fear

Look Dad it’s a motorcycle and he now must draw near

He’ll reach out to grasp and to hold

Don’t touch, quickly they are told!


With suspicion, apprehension and curiosity they do gaze

As if peering into this time machines smoky blue haze

The older ones; come forth briskly, now all gathered round

Reminded of trials and travails

Of war and so much more

Depressions, recessions

Of da olden daze


Everywhere now…they throw in with my odd lot

An oddity to be sure, not one seen here before

By these oglers which now gather galore,

Relaxed and replete they begin to adore


The hue and the cry, be not merely, not nearly

Where art thou goeth, to what darth reaches

But rather,

Inextricably, immutably, indubiously


What manner of creature, doth thou strange traveler from afar, goeth forth upon?


If I may know true unto my heart

I can not get thee there then, on that from here, where I do now be,

Upon, yonder steed


Nay…but tis after all

It is in the journey that my heart doth truly lie


And not in that of the actual deed

Of arriving on time in clean shirt and blue jean

Upon this Ole rusty, yet somehow still trusty

Grand Ole Steel Steed.


Oh how I do love this enduring machine?

It’s got no top, and it’s got no heater

It’s got no top end; it’s an open air…slow mile eater

It’s a summertime treat, you just can’t beat her.

And yet the best thing about her, what may very well be, her cardinal feature–She’s a clean single seater!


Away with my thoughts and my time is my own

Its back streets and cobbles

Tis’ our tendency to roam


To be sure there are days that, although at the time, seem to be quite aplenty, I can honestly say, not really very many

My patience thoroughly defeated & finances seriously depleted

Surely curses, leaking carburetor, manifold and oil 

These things shall follow me all the days of my life

And I shall plead before the Servi-car in vain





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All Doug Barber a.k.a. Q-Ball photographs are copyrighted. This entire site, and everything on it is copyrighted. You may not reproduce anything on this site in part or whole without written permission. You will be fined up to $15,000.00 per image used without written permission. That goes for you, and the freaking government also. If you want respect, then give respect.

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