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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
Incredulously
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
Forever
servicarrider
servicarrider@yahoo.com
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