I’m sure I never shall forget
Our first big touring car…
Three seats for seven passengers,
It shone like melted tar.
High wooden wheel with varnished spokes,
It smelled so fresh and new
Of paint and rubber floor mats,
Red leather cushions, too.
A spare tire mounted at the back,
Side curtains if it rained;
A standard set of tools, of course,
A crank, tire pump, and chains.
Oh, how we loved to whizz along
Those narrow country lanes,
Near hedges, scattering startled birds,
Past fields of golden grain.
A pall of yellow dust behind,
Livestock would race away;
Sweet wind rushed all around us
Those dear old summer days.
Mom had a linen duster
And Dad, big gauntlet gloves,
We went to church on Sundays,
And how we children loved
Inviting other kids to come
And take a ride some day;
Then with the “klaxon” sounding
We grandly rode away.
Published Friendship Ideals 1971