The car in photo would have been,
Brand new, when I legally started driving,
Two years of practice before, called sin,
Kept the County coffers thriving. (^8
Tale of Two Stations
By Arley Steinhour 111812
I thought I'd go to town today,
But twenty miles is way too far,
Not enough reasons to go to play,
When I couldn't start my car.
I knew I had to gas-up,
The tank was almost dry,
But my fill-up had a hick-up,
As the Gas-gauge, told a lie.
The needle sits there, proudly,
Just above the great big 'E,'
Normally that gives me, handily,
Twenty miles, or more, for free.
I guess my car is getting old,
and can't remember how to gauge,
My tank now echo's oh so bold,
It's my fault, so I can't rage.
I pondered all the avenues,
That might get me across the nation,
Except the one I don't want to choose,
Push the car a block, to the station.
My macho blood just boils,
Someone might see, and know,
That my mind sometimes toils,
To remember where to go.
The station, that's a block away,
Costs more than the one that's two,
My thought, is it worth a heart attack,
Just to save a buck while pushing 'through.'
At last the answer's made for me,
My son stopped by with his truck,
He delivers gas to farmers, for free,
I guess that includes his dad, the schmuck.
I hope you liked my little tale,
Not a word of it is true,
Started typing and let fingers sail,
And came up with this, for you.