Yesterday’s cars slanted down where they should
have had fins at the tail, and were square at the hood.
Some required a stepstool to enter the door,
then had a big bump centered there in the floor
The grandfathers of cars weren’t for the faint-hearted.
They required you crank them before they got started,
and inevitably, when the tires went flat,
a service station wasn’t where you were at.
With no Triple A, the onus was on you
to figure out what you had to do.
The jacks were all manual. Tubes needed air,
so many the driver gave up in despair.
With Mom in the front seat and kids in the rumble,
dad would pump and unscrew and blather and bumble,
then put out his thumb to beg for a ride
in a car that was passing that had room inside.
He was not feinting his look of distress,
and neither was mom, although I confess
it was an adventure for sister and me
who watched the procedure giggling with glee
as inevitably, he would hoof it to town
and we’d open the car doors, jump happily down
and cavort in a field, searching out hidden treasure
and picking up cockleburs in equal measure.
Then when dad caught a ride back with a fixed wheel,
we’d drive on to a diner for a well-deserved meal,
then be on our way, trouble-free and much faster
for the rest of our trip that was free from disaster.
And HERE are another two special photos of Model A’s you won’t want to miss.
I must admit that this particular situation is fiction, although the predicament certainly must have been reenacted many times in an era earlier than mine.