Sunday, September 18, 2011

The Legend of "Old Paint"

Smoke billowing from the tailpipe,

A muffler with thunderous roar,

The world knew I was arriving,

Three or four blocks before,

The paint and chrome were rusty,

The license plate clung to a wire,

The neighbors all made bets,

On when the car would catch on fire,

“Old Paint”, I affectionately called her,

And oft gave her a tender slap,

My friends all politely inquired,

“When are you getting rid of that claptrap?”

They were embarrassed by “Old Paint’,

As she sat next to their shiny steeds,

“Don’t laugh, I’ll race any of you,

“Old Paint” was built for speed,”

It took some time for them to calm,

They laughed and rolled on the ground,

But when I revved her they stepped back,

She was the hottest car in town,

You think I’d race their souped up cars,

That didn’t even have names?

But probably what held me back,

Was when “Old Paint” burst into flames,

I guess I was wrong concerning “Old Paint”,

Bragging how fast she could be,

But the legend grows about that night,

And how she burned with me,

I escaped in a cloud of smoke,

So don’t worry or think I fried,

When “Old Paint”” lit up the sky,

I was the only one who cried,

A sad ending for such a noble steed,

The night I hotfooted it out of town,

“Old Paint” claimed her piece of glory,

Her flames brought City Hall to the ground.

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