I only write poems that rhyme, so literary critics can tune out at this point.
As I got older, and the commuting got longer — two hours each way to Boeing — I started using “beaters”, old cars with little life left in them, but cheap. I have had two used Chevy Metro’s in series, both red. They were peppy little cars, easy to park, but they were no match for a Corvette. The following story is actually quite true, although I never followed up and actually talked to the Corvette owner. The whole idea came to me right there in the parking lot as it happened. Hope you enjoy the poem.
My Whole Life Flashed Before My Eyes
I drive a Geo Metro
It’s a beauty, and it’s red
It uses very little gas
It’s my second, first one’s dead
You might ask how I got it
I’ll tell you, but sit down
It all started many years ago
Now try hard not to frown
I got myself a big degree
In engineering and so it went
I spent time in the Air Force
As an officer and a gent
While I worked for Uncle Sam
I bought my first used car
And in those days a tank of gas
Didn’t get me very far
It was a 1960 dual quad Vette
All white with red inside
To that I added a pretty wife
And then a father’s pride
All too soon the Vette was gone
A Buick in its place
But life was lookin’ up, my friend
My career picked up its pace
I sent men to the moon
And a lota stuff like that
I got my masters at RPI
And then more kids I gat
My car by now was a Maverick
It got 21 on the road
The years went by and now I drive
This cramped and cheap red toad
So there I was this mornin’
Looking for a place to park
When I spied a spot that looked real great
And I went for it like a shark
But as I closed upon my prey
A sleek red bullet passed
A modern version of my old Vette
And I was all aghast
I didn’t mind the spot he got
He got it fair and square
What I got was a fiendish thought
Could I do it, would I dare?
Well, I decided that I’d do it
And I headed off his way
I said, “I don’t mean to worry you son,
But you’ll be drivin’ that someday!”
Art Davenport, June 2002