Living Car Free - I Took My Car to the Corner Store to Get a Loaf of Bread

I Took My Car to the Corner Store to Get a Loaf of Bread

by Mike Nickerson


I took my car to the corner store,
to get a loaf of bread;
It turned out to be quite a trip,
when all was done and said.

First I took the doors along,
as they were first at hand;
A trip with each, my heart did pound,
the exercise was grand.

Next I took the hood and trunk,
they easily came undone;
The body posed a bigger task,
it could not be moved as one.

I'll not tell all, about the chore,
with torch and saw to render;
Suffice to say, when it was done,
I could carry every member.

But for the engine, I had to cheat,
its weight too much for me;
I brought a wagon to the task,
man powered, though, you see.

With fenders, gears and manifolds,
bumpers, clutch and brakes;
My heart and lungs were racing now,
a little rest I'd take.

Oh how I love my motor car,
its chrome and paint do shine;
The neighbours stare as we go by,
I'm so glad that it is mine.

The tires I choose to roll along,
a wonder is the wheel;
After axles, tranny and padded seats,
I was ready for my meal.

Alone, one man, but for his car,
the corner store's so handy;
I got the bread that I came for,
some cheese and also candy.

The joys of transport are so grand,
the world is there to roam;
I took my car to the corner store,
now I have to take it home.

========================

I like it, Peter. :)

I think you will never become a Clyde if you do that on a regular basis :) .

East Hill

That is DELIGHTFUL! :)

And here I was expecting a troll....

Your English teachers did their job well.

Wow! AWESOME!

:)

I think you will never become a Clyde if you do that on a regular basis :) .

East Hill

There seems to be an awful lot of verse writing on Bike Forums today. I'm half-tempted to post my 13 stanza hill-climbing account to this thread. :-)

There seems to be an awful lot of verse writing on Bike Forums today. I'm half-tempted to post my 13 stanza hill-climbing account to this thread. :-)

Since bicycles are mechanical poetry I think it's fitting that there be poetry here. Sometimes poetry is the only way to tell a tale. Please post the hill-climbing account.:)

Since bicycles are mechanical poetry I think it's fitting that there be poetry here. Sometimes poetry is the only way to tell a tale. Please post the hill-climbing account.:)

It's a glorious paean (or is it an Irish jig? :) )! I think it deserves a place here also :p .

East Hill

It's a glorious paean (or is it an Irish jig? :) )! I think it deserves a place here also :p .

East Hill

By popular demand:

Lines Written On My First Ever Climb of the Hill On Lucas Road, December 8, 2007

On the Lucas Road there's a lil' ol' bump.
If hills were like trees, it's a lil' ol' stump
But that Lucas Road and it's lil' ol' bump,
It was too much hill for a Clyde!

Near there was a Clyde - we'll name him Neil,
For sake of the rhyme, no other appeal-
That Lucas Road bump made him squeal,
It was too much hill for that Clyde!

It wasn't too long, it wasn't too high,
It was steep and short and curved to the side,
And that steep and short and curve to the side
Made it too much hill for that Clyde.

Time and again he'd ride his bike
up half of the hill, and then take a hike,
It was just too much hill for that poor bike,
And too much hill for that Clyde!

Time and again he'd throw his heft-
belly a-bouncing, head tilted to the left-
on the Lucas Road and have nothing left
to climb that hill like a Clyde!

"Other cyclists climb that hill" said he,
"sometimes in groups of two or three,
And other Neils more fine than me
have climbed that hill like a Clyde."

"Why can't I climb it?" said Neil in distress.
"If that hill beats me, I'm in such a mess
I should give up cycling and take up chess,
but I can't climb that hill. I'm a Clyde."

And then on a cold, dark December day,
the sunshine peeked from a bleak sky of gray,
And Neil thought he'd try again that day,
To climb that hill as a Clyde.

Down Penn, down Ward, and downward he sped,
Down Nottingham Lane the Neil-clyde ped-
eled, faster and faster he sped,
To the hill too much for that Clyde.

His legs were a blur, his lungs were a gasping,
His Bontrager Index Shifters were rasping,
As for the lowest gearing he was grasping,
As he climbed that hill, did that Clyde.

He huffed and he puffed and he rode that bike clear
over the top of the hill, and folks far and near
heard him shout, "I'm not even in my lowest gear!
I climbed that hill like a Clyde!"

Stories are supposed to have morals, yasee,
Some meaning for you, some meaning for me,
I know what I think, and that's fine with me,
Meaning I'll let you decide:

Whenever you face a great big hump,
Whenever you face a lil' ol' bump,
Remember Neil and his lil' ol' bump
and climb that hill like a Clyde!

For those who would like to sing The Historian's rhymes:

http://www.bikeforums.net/showthread.php?t=369002

East Hill