The Old Rambler

Seventy-nine thousand miles,
that's what the old Rambler had on it
when Dad parked it for the last time.
It was bought new in 1960 in Phoenix, Arizona;
that's where I went to school while in the first through third grade.

The old Rambler was new then,
but it still looked like an upside down bathtub with wheels;
my dad liked it.
It took my mother to the hospital
to give birth to my younger sister.
I used to cuss that car thinking it had made a deal with the stork.
Five years later Mom drove it to the hospital
in Caldwell, Idaho, and gave birth to my younger brother.
By then I was old enough to know better
than to believe in storks,
but I gave that old Rambler a funny look just the same.

I think it got even by driving off into an irrigation ditch
but really it was just Mom running a stop sign
and swerving to miss a car pulling out of a driveway.
We got on the school bus on time
but I wanted to stick around to watch them pull it out with a tractor
and chain, but I had to go off to school.
The old Rambler just sits there now,
but every now and then I get an urge to restore it,
but there's something that stops me from it.
I think it's just the thought of someone seeing me drive it.

By GW Hutson



The Naked Truth of a Common Man 101 Poems


Available at www.gwhutson.com

Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 12/08/2021 11:34PM by gwhutson.

A good read, GW.


Les

A prose poem is a tough thing to pull off and this one works for me. (I have been unwilling to attempt it, so I salute your work).

Lots of things to draw one in here (if you are of a certain age). I think you actually have to have seen a Rambler pulling up to the door to really feel it.
Thanks for a good read.
Steve

Took the liberty of sending you an email. Ya done good Idaho boy, ya done real good.

Thanks for all the comments. I really appreciate them.