The Right Not To Be Repaired

The wheels go ever round and round
at least until they finally stop
Then jury-rigged repairs abound
until the balding tires pop

My old Mercedes wagon had
Enough duct-tape to wrap the moon
It drove ok but looked quite sad
Like class repaired by a buffoon.

My Bug at least is something fit
For hippie work with random parts
From Chevy, Dodge, and just a bit
of Studebaker--hey at least it starts

With paint-sticks, glue, and bits of string
I hold my rag-top's roof together
And old newspaper is the thing
that keeps me dry--until there's weather!

Old cars have found a place to die
An automotive burial ground
To that belief I put the lie
And force the cars to stick around!

Bruised Mercedes Wagon, Mountain View, CA, 2017

Text copyright (c) 2022, Kevin Cheek
Image copyright (c) 2017, Kevin Cheek



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