Auto Love

This is a poem inspired by my son, fixing up his old jalopy pickup.

I’m just a’standin’  here
Lookin’ under the hood.
Greasy parts, oily stuff,
It don’t  look good.

Every tool I got
Is scattered ever’where
Oil smeared on my face
Sealant in my hair

Can’t find my wrenches
‘cause I loaned ‘em to Bill
Ratchets in the bumper
Sockets in the grill

Somethin’ nasty green
Is drippin’ on the ground
I think I need help
But there’s no one around

Where she’s fired up
Blue smoke comes out her rear
There’s a knock in the engine
Even Granny can hear.

Her back tires are flat
And the front ones toe in
She pulls to the left
Muffler’s held on with a pin

But my face in her paint job
Still gives me a thrill
There’s leather upholstery
To snuggle on, with Bill

So I don’t care ‘bout
All them other things
When I take a look at her
My heart still sings

And when Bill and I go
Aridin’ out after dark
We’re still looking’ for
That special place to  park