Truckin down memory lane

                                                                               

I came across my fathers old pickup truck Ford,

It whispered to me,

“Come in, sit, please close the door.”

The age of the truck was in the air so musty,

As I ran my fingers along the dash, dirty and dusty.

The truck said, “Close your eyes and relax your mind,

While I take you for a drive down the path called time.”

It drove me to the field on that fine sunny day,

Where I sat behind the wheel as my brothers bucked hay.

They piled and stacked to the very tip top,

Then I faintly heard my father telling me to stop.

I slammed on the brakes then watched the bales fall,

They bounced off the hood, my brother and all.

I couldn’t help but giggle at that unforeseen sight,

And lucky for me he was unscathed and alright.

We drove some more down highway twenty,

Where I rear ended a car, even two, incidentally.

The car I hit, rammed a car as well,

A three car accident, I was such a dumbbell.

The breaks I couldn’t find it was the gas I gunned,

Hit the car again, my father was stunned.

We continued our drive down the cruising strip street,

Weekend nights with my friends we all meet.

This truck was once grand, with camper on back,

We used to go camping five children it would pack.

Now it sits all rusty and old,

But I thanked it for the memories and the stories it told.