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It's a Ford

Story ID:7526
Written by:Monte Leon Manka (bio, contact, other stories)
Organization:retired
Story type:Poem
Location:Hemet CA. USA
Year:1945
Person:First car Chelsea Kansas Kid
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It’s a Ford

Back in “44”
After graduation from EHS
Dad bought me a car
He thought it best

That
While I was in El Dorado, Juco
Twelve miles away
He would have transportation, Doncha know

He got me a Model “A” Ford
The vintage, who could tell
This particular Ford
Had been through “Hell”

This was during WWII
You took what you could find
Cars were scarce as hens teeth
I really didn’t mind

That the door panels were gone
The window riser and locking mechanism
Were exposed for all who rode could see
A very simple system

No Vacuum windshield wipers
No Heater or radio
Armstrong steering
Leaky radiator, also

The two front tires
Had vertical splits in the, almost non existent tread
Inserted two inside tire liners
I drove slowly to school down that sandy road

The dust came up through the cracks
The floor mat was long gone
Twelve miles of sand road
Left a coat of dust on the clean clothes I had on.

The oily smell of the motor
The fumes galore
Left me breathing this odor
Coming up through the floor

For a breath of fresh air
When it was cold or snowing
The windows were half way down
Hopefully the wind was blowing

But with a few jerks of the crank
The “Powerful” engine came alive
Grind it into Low gear
You’re ready to drive

When I had a date
To get to the Picture Show
My girl friend and I would walk the twenty blocks
To the “Roxy” or the “El Dorado”

She didn’t want to be seen
In this ugly “Car”
I wasn’t ashamed
Better than walking, by far.

The contents of the trunk
Five gallon water can full, extra oil, snow chains
Tow chain, jack an tire pump
To relieve the strain

Of trouble on Highway “13”
I’ve traveled it a thousand times
Never met or passed a car
99 percent of the time.

All along the way
Farmhouses weren’t far off the road
Where you could get help
If a tire did explode.

Left for the army, march of “45”
When I came home from overseas
Never to see the Ford again
Dad towed it the junkyard, if you please.

For those several months I owned her
She never refused to start
Of all her deficiencies
That “Old Ford” was close to my heart.
Monte L Manka-10-18-11