Today marks the end An end of a piece of automotive history The old rural car repair shop. As you roll along Nothing marks the distinction between it and all the other homes nestled on the prairie. This was a place that our beloved deco gas stations Wiped off the map. The old squat tin shed, faded and speckled with rust. The low rows of small windows Sliding doors blocked by overgrown trees The branches rubbing the roof in long smooth arcs The tin bangs and shouts with the wind. Inside the cracks and scars in the concrete floor, Poured in hand mixed batches, Hatched like the back of the old mans hand. Tools and grease guns hang on racks Rows of fan belts stacks of radiator hose boxes of welding rod drawers full of just stuff. Old wrenches lay unused and displays faded and torn. As you glance around, Your mind wanders and wonders What was it like back then? Back when all these empty spaces Were filled with model Ts, model As Chevy sixes and flathead Fords. How many engines were coaxed back to life here? The blue flash of the arc welder, The sparks and slag dancing on the unswept floor. You look in a dark and dusty corner Whats that? A wisp of smoke? You smell the Cuban select. Then you see him The old man Cigar in his mouth Wiping his greasy hands on an old rag You see the warmth in his crisp blue eyes what do we got here? he asks. All gone. Today the automotive karma will be released Back into the ether. Memories freed. Knowledge long lost. So tonight, when it is darkest, and quietest and still Think of the old place. All the vehicles that came to this dusty oasis To be fixed, patched up, back on the road again. Leave your shop window open a crack Or a toolbox drawer slightly open. So the memories and knowledge That doesnt get written down in books Seeps in and continues To live on.
Sir, If you don't currently write professionaly, you should. Thanks for the story and the goose bumps.
Great piece No-Surf! Its like a release isn't it? All bent up longing to enter the light. Once released our souls become free..eager to cling to the next romance. It allows us to share our memories..for when we are gone, no one can enter that shop or dusty old corridor. The doors and windows will truely be closed forever.
Great writing, but as for me I'm still fighting the good fight and I think you'll find alot of others are as well. The honesty and knowledge is still around. But for sure it's alot harder to find, we just have to keep looking for it and supporting it. Thanks, Tim
dude, the hair on the back of my neck is standing up! i never saw the place and i am going to miss it. i'll leave that drawer open just a smidge...
I think there could still be life in the old building unless it's been torn down already. I would be proud of it sitting on my wooded acreage in the country a little work, and it would look pretty good. I'm crazy about old barns and old buildings like this.
thanks for a great story/history lesson....reminds me of a lotta places I saw along old rt 66.........
there could be life left. but there isnt. it's coming down no matter what. i think the poem is an homage to an old building that has done it's job. i wish i could have saved it though, or someone anyway.
Nicely said Nosurf. As we go through the short journey of life we should take plenty of photos for the memories. Sometimes that's all we can go back to>>>>.
"So tonight, when it is darkest, and quietest and still Think of the old place. All the vehicles that came to this dusty oasis To be fixed, patched up, back on the road again. Leave your shop window open a crack Or a toolbox drawer slightly open. So the memories and knowledge That doesnt get written down in books Seeps in and continues To live on." it is amazing to me how humanity throws stuff like this away or thinks it knows a better way and just pushes aside the very thread of its heritage. My tool box is ALWAYS open...and when I'm in my garage, my hands are ALWAYS dirty and my face ALWAYS has a smile on it...because my hands are dirty and they get that way doing what I love to do. You have a great way of capturing what we all know...thanks for putting it in words.
it brought back Memories of a Time when every thing was Good and Honest <br> People use to Kid around & Laugh, Thanks
Great Essay/Poem writting....Thanks!!!! I'll leave the drawer open, maybe my missing tools will return as well! Ken
The Jalopy Journal
