By Timothy Odell
We get so much garbage PR mail at the Hooniverse inbox, but the announcements from The 24 Hours of LeMons are pure gold. Ironic, given that the series is dedicated to garbage. Anyway, they’ve topped themselves once again with the latest reminder about signing up for January’s Sonoma race (which reminds me…).
Anyway, here’s the first of several paragraphs; click through for the rest.
‘Twas the Sat. before Christmas, when signups were due,
For LeMons Sonoma, that cold-ass venue.
Chanukah was over, the menorah unlit,
No flaggers were stirring, nor one Tech eejit.
All the hoopties were idle, dismantled in sheds,
And the drivers they dawdl’d, and took to their beds.
But those apps were still due the 19th of December,
As spams bugged them again and again to remember…
When from the garage there arose such a ruckus,
That I sprang from the bed and cover’d my tuchas.
In the moonlight I saw my roof laden with clunkers,
And sought out the source of the noise ‘midst those junkers,
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a slammed-down Corona, grinding its gears.
With a bearded old driver so belchin’ and fartin’
That I knew in an instant ’twas Murilee Martin.
More crappy than Chryslers, his hoopties they came,
As he whistl’d and shout’d and call’d them by name;
Screw up the apex, deflower the K-wall!
Now, limp away, limp away, limp away all!”
Then clearing his throat, he went on at length,
Of Nixon and Hoxha and such men of strength.
His eyes were quite bloodshot, his beard somewhat grisl’d,
With fries on the console, in ketchup he’d drizzl’d.
He suggested Romanian cars I should buy,
And a three-banger two-stroke he hoped I would try.
Or I’m sure a Trabant would race smoothly and swiftly!
Why not make me so proud with a force-fed Reatta?
Or by stuffing a flathead into a Miata?”
Having tempted me so to take on awful labors,
He laid down a patch and called out to the neighbors:
“The 19th of December, I’ll say it again,
Is the last day to get your Sears Pointless apps in.”
So I thought of that race, still a full nine weeks hence,
As I watched his Corona plow straight through the fence,
And I heard him exclaim, whilst expounding on Watergate,
Image courtesy Murilee Martin
Jeff Glucker
I feel that a new cultural highpoint has been established.
Wow, such prose. I am awed.
Years ago, during a different bout of Peugeot 405 ownership, I came up with the following. Given the Lion motif used by Peugeot, shamelessly ripping off William Blake’s ‘The Tyger’ seemed appropriate.
“Peugeot, Peugeot, four-oh-five,
“Such a joy you are to drive.
“Yet the sum of brand-new parts
“Would cause attacks in saner hearts.”
Damned if I can still remember how the remaining verses went, but I did manage to hit the scansion of the original 100% spot-on throughout.
Ruger 10/22? It would take forever to chisel a concrete pylon into a leering face with one of those.