The Old Babe

The thought for this poem was inspired by Jay Knepper of Beatrice(NE). I published a poem of his about an old house, for my old 'Poets Quill' column. It made me remember all the old things I've "thrown away" because they outlived their usefulness.

Though the seats weren’t as comfortable
and the headlights didn’t always work
rust lined the floor boards
new strange sounds appeared almost daily

she took passengers wherever they wanted to go
no questions asked
check the gas and fill the oil
showing her age
she never complained

the old babe hauled the children
to sporting events or the store
a dome light offered comfort
for the youngest… scared of the dark
she was the first to see a new romance
as they kissed on the front seat

groceries and Christmas presents
she always had just enough room
but age started to show
brakes didn’t always work
a/c quit and winter rides…
became an adventure

no longer the family’s main cruise
she became the commute vehicle
no longer washed… no longer pampered
but she performed her job
with grace and dignity

188,000 miles later
her valves gave out
anti-freeze spilled into her heads
slower and slower she limped home
in the comfort of her garage
placed on life support

she would have one final trip
25 miles to the place…
where all cars come to rest
with pride… she made her final trip
going 15 mph… she made it…
in just under an hour

in the corner of the lot…
she’s at rest
a shell of her former self
now salvage…
her parts… still cruise the streets
through the dirt, grime, rust
and broken windshield
she still has class
always waiting for her owners return