Thursday, July 23, 2009

A poem that explains it all

Please if you can tell me who to credit this poem to, I would like to give full credit.

My old BMW came to me in chests,
Each one an adventure, or was it just a mess.
A feast to feed the senses on, a puzzle for the mind,
Each one a rarest treasure, or was I really blind?

There were bits of perished rubber,
Bits of brass and steel,
Spokes and brakes and axles, and a pair of rusty wheels.
The seat was broke, the foot pegs missing, as were many other parts,
This bike is really quite complete,... well, maybe it’s a start.

There are no lights, the Speedo's gone, the mufflers are still missing, but
I'll get them from the local shop, but maybe that's just wishing.
So in my shed I'll labor, and work all through the night,
And if I'm very lucky just one piece will turn out right.

First I took the frame in hand, and checked that it was straight,
Then I put the front forks on, it started looking great.
What next I thought, then wheels in hand, I placed them fore and aft.
I hadn’t any tyers yet, it looked a little daft.

Then the engine to put in place, which way did it fit?
Where was the bolt that held it up? Maybe this was it?
Or maybe that's the one, I should have used before,
There are a hundred others lying on the floor

Then came the gearbox and the tank, the magneto it was next,
Hell it's nearly finished, I think I'll have a rest.
I'll make me, a pot of tea, and sit down by the sink,
Will it ever run again? I really had to think.

The big end's gone, the sparks are dead, the piston it seems broken,
So off I go to the shop they say.... You must be joking.
It's 50 years since we stocked those parts,..
Try that bloke in Woking.

So home I go, and on the phone, I ring around the country,
Then I ring around the world, Hell! this costs some money.
Then at last I find the part, the price is much inflated,
What do you expect the old man said, it's all correctly dated.

The weeks go by and turn to years, the bike at lasts completed,
I know the old girl will run, Ill not be defeated.
So of I go down the road, pushing for all I'm worth,
She fifes up and off I go there's no containing all my mirth.

Returning home as proud as punch, I stand there and admire,
She's working well all restored, I wonder who will buy her?
Add up the cost against the worth well there's some surprises
I'll have to keep her 50 years until the value rises¶

1 comment:

  1. Excellent dear...
    Very good! I think that you have done a great job! FANTASTIC!!!!