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A 1971 Ford Maverick for Geezer

The "high-a-load" phrase is a play on words. "Hyaloid" means transparent which I was when stoned out of my mind.

It’s forty years ago this fall Ford made
a Maverick of a car that I would own.
All baby blue before the rust was laid,
the poor thing never once a bath had known.

It could not move on tires with deep tread,
so I saw fit each one would show some steel.
I often filled them sheltering my head
prepared for high explosive as I kneel.

The windshield had a longitud’nal crack
I used as handy level for the road
to know we had not flipped upon our back.
Those days I toked and stayed right “high-a-load.”

We lost the rear view mirror early on
and following the sides were knocked clean off,
but I am very little put upon
by what lays back of me and merits scoff.

Of course there were the times I sat in class
and heard afar the beast’s dim, strident call.
I then would commandeer a student pass
to reach it and unplug its horny waul.

No gas cap had it, so a fuel soaked rag
was stuffed to keep the stuff from leaking out.
You mightn’t guess, but I would often lag
with maintenance my friends would ply devout.

It’s strange to tell, but I was stopped a lot.
The officers in town knew me by name.
Theirs was a racket of the purest rot,
so I ignored the tickets in their game.

I grant the damn thing took a while to start.
We revved and revved while billowing black smoke.
Which then would grow in mass and soon depart
to drift, man’s height, and all the campus choke.

I sold it at the last for fifty bucks
and somehow wasn’t sad to see it go,
but walking for a young teen really sucks
and it had run its final rodeo.

We’ve only scratched the surface you and I.
More character it had than this by far.
From time to time recalling it I sigh,
for that old Ford was truly one hot car.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
Just a silly thing inspired by Geezer's taxi. I don't write much humorous poetry, but this was easy as the car truly existed and everything in the poem is absolutely true.
Editing stage: 

Comments

I had one, that colour blue too, stick shift. Owned a white 54 Ford-hardtop retractable, a powder blue Karmann Ghia (drivers door hit by a jealous crowbar) a red 69 convertible Firebird (stolen), a white early (I think) 60-something Thunderbird, a yellow 60 something Chevy SS (?) convertible with black leather interior.. Who knew when I sold them for a few dollars or so?

Just think I could have been another Jay Leno!

~A

p.s. the Maverick was a pain in the arse too, just about gave it away for parts.

I cringed openly as soon as I saw Ford Maverick - gah! But, I gave it the benefit of the doubt, and chuckled to see that it held the same 'marks' as what I observed with them as well. I enjoyed the whimsy, and the visuals - as I could very easily see this old blue rust-bucket bundle of bolts a'clankin' down the road pootin' out black smoke. =) Well done.

~ Jess K
"A parakeet is one who takes care of you until the real keet arrives.." - George Carlin http://www.centranthus.blogspot.com

The terrifying part is that it is all true. I didn't have to stretch at all. wesley

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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author comment

I really enjoyed this piece and the imagery it brought to life! It brought back several good memories. I've had two motor vehicle loves of my life. A 1951 International pick-up truck that was born on my date of birth, I can't remember what I traded to get it. But it belonged to a local pot dealer who was paranoid about been too recognizable. It was Issue dark green, and had been rolled once so one side was completely dented.

The other was a 1967 GTO, turquoise. I would have prefered red, but didn't have the funds to have it painted as I was going to school and barely had funds for each months Lab fees. I remember having to put a couple of fifty pound bags of kitty litter in the trunk to weigh the back end down and cut down on the fish-tailing. I really regret having sold it instead of waiting for good times and refurbishing my old Goat!

(I also had a kz-400 that I drove to death. Loved every minute of it!
Favorite lines:

We’ve only scratched the surface you and I.
More character it had than this by far.
From time to time recalling it I sigh,
for that old Ford was truly one hot car.

always, Cat

When you fling poo, some of the stink sticks to you!

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:
http://eddystyx.mythramuse.com/

I'm not a "car" person, but it is strange how the fool things can become a defining characteristic of certain times in our lives. wesley

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

author comment
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