The Crooked and the Straight

Ode To My Friend John’s Car (Which I Affectionately Think Of As The Blue Gumdrop)

You always said you didn’t need a car
With a lot of flash
And that's what you got
for twenty-five hundred, cash.

In the mild Seattle clime
The car will never rust
But wash it once and you risk losing
The accumulated load-bearing dust.

It starts, it stops,
It doesn’t leak (much).
We could probably pick it up
And flip it over
Without, you know, a lot of effort and such.

It can turn left and right
And it can stop on a dime
Provided you plan ahead
To hit the breaks in time.

A tape deck, how quaint!
And only one side mirror,
How economical.
The broken door latch,
Funny smells – all quite comical.

It has a gas tank,
But no power steering,
No A/C, and a manual clutch.
I’m sometimes surprised
that is lacks a hand crank.

On a good day
It can do sixty-five
And as long as you don’t hit
Anything
All your passengers will survive.

It can go faster, you say,
And it will
As long as the wind is behind,
And you’re going downhill.

It’s a functional car,
Nothing more
Nothing less,
And it was much less expensive
Than (say) a wedding dress.

I don’t mean to poke fun
At the car
Or to denigrate,
But the time soon will come
When it will disintegrate.

It takes you to work
And us to Taco Bell
With the help of new tires
And gravity
It stays on the road as well.

I’ll say this for the car:
It’s gas mileage is fantastic –
Owing, of course to the fact
That it’s ninety percent plastic.

But as a car, it’s really quite fine
And it suits your needs
Well.
(Although your definition of “fine”
Might be different than mine.)

Thanks for all the rides,
And all the drive-time chatter.
I know you love the Blue Gumdrop
And that’s all that matters.