A visit from Old Saint Powerstroke.
'Twas the night before Christmas, and under my rig,
Time for an oil change, my twice a year gig,
The wrenches all hung on the workbench with care.
In hopes that a bench grinder, soon would be there.
My Craftsman tools nestled, in ball bearing drawers.
The new Mustang poster was taped to the door.
And I in my Carharts, and camouflage cap,
Lay prone on my creeper, A good place for a nap.
When out on my lawn, there arose such a clatter,
I swear that it sounded like new diesel chatter.
I hit the door button, and it started to rise.
I rubbed clean my hands on the top of my thighs.
The fluorescent lights buzzed and then started to show,
'gave a lustre of midday to bumpers below.
And what to my wondrous eyes did appear?
But a full diesel line-up in 2005 gear!
Powerstroke's, Dodges, and Duramax, hummin',
Kenworths and Peterbilts, chattering Cummins,
More rapid than eagles, the Alcoa's came,
To my left and my right, no 2 were the same.
"On White, International, Rio and CAT,
On Massey & Ferguson, imagine that!
Pulled up to my porch,
Was a red Waukeshaw,
Rev them up, rev them up, rev them up, All!"
With redlined tachometers, the black smoke did fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, injectors will cry.
So up on my driveway, the diesel rigs flew.
With twin turbos screaming, the sulfur did spew.
And then, with a rumbling and chattering proof,
My own rig ignited to join in the spoof!
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Four-hundred-and-forty-four inches of sound!
My own Super Duty, XL automatic.
Leading the cheer, fossil fuels, aromatic.
A bundle of toys spilled out of the bed.
Gale Banks and K&N, so she can get fed.
The chrome, how it twinkled, Lariat rims; cherry,
Cab lights and grille guards, Warn winches; scary!
My ripped grey cloth bench was recovered in 'hide.
Dick Cepek's installed to raise up the ride.
New four-ten Dana's were tucked underneath,
Now the smoke had encircled my head like a wreath,
She had a 4 inch frame lift, Hungus bars, stainless.
Stewart-Warner gauges, man, this was painless!
Lean and mean Powerstroke, I credited Ford,
For creating the beast, International Lord.
A wink of my eye and some cold cranking amps,
She was ready to take down off of the ramps.
I spoke not a word but jumped up in the cab,
Clicked my seatbelt, gave the throttle a stab.
The smell of hot diesel invaded my nose,
I'm glad that the Ford is the one I have chose.
We all drove away; disappeared in the night,
"Happy Diesel to All... and to all a Good Night!"
'Twas the night before Christmas, and under my rig,
Time for an oil change, my twice a year gig,
The wrenches all hung on the workbench with care.
In hopes that a bench grinder, soon would be there.
My Craftsman tools nestled, in ball bearing drawers.
The new Mustang poster was taped to the door.
And I in my Carharts, and camouflage cap,
Lay prone on my creeper, A good place for a nap.
When out on my lawn, there arose such a clatter,
I swear that it sounded like new diesel chatter.
I hit the door button, and it started to rise.
I rubbed clean my hands on the top of my thighs.
The fluorescent lights buzzed and then started to show,
'gave a lustre of midday to bumpers below.
And what to my wondrous eyes did appear?
But a full diesel line-up in 2005 gear!
Powerstroke's, Dodges, and Duramax, hummin',
Kenworths and Peterbilts, chattering Cummins,
More rapid than eagles, the Alcoa's came,
To my left and my right, no 2 were the same.
"On White, International, Rio and CAT,
On Massey & Ferguson, imagine that!
Pulled up to my porch,
Was a red Waukeshaw,
Rev them up, rev them up, rev them up, All!"
With redlined tachometers, the black smoke did fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, injectors will cry.
So up on my driveway, the diesel rigs flew.
With twin turbos screaming, the sulfur did spew.
And then, with a rumbling and chattering proof,
My own rig ignited to join in the spoof!
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Four-hundred-and-forty-four inches of sound!
My own Super Duty, XL automatic.
Leading the cheer, fossil fuels, aromatic.
A bundle of toys spilled out of the bed.
Gale Banks and K&N, so she can get fed.
The chrome, how it twinkled, Lariat rims; cherry,
Cab lights and grille guards, Warn winches; scary!
My ripped grey cloth bench was recovered in 'hide.
Dick Cepek's installed to raise up the ride.
New four-ten Dana's were tucked underneath,
Now the smoke had encircled my head like a wreath,
She had a 4 inch frame lift, Hungus bars, stainless.
Stewart-Warner gauges, man, this was painless!
Lean and mean Powerstroke, I credited Ford,
For creating the beast, International Lord.
A wink of my eye and some cold cranking amps,
She was ready to take down off of the ramps.
I spoke not a word but jumped up in the cab,
Clicked my seatbelt, gave the throttle a stab.
The smell of hot diesel invaded my nose,
I'm glad that the Ford is the one I have chose.
We all drove away; disappeared in the night,
"Happy Diesel to All... and to all a Good Night!"
. And hopefully getttin a 94 dodge this weekend, as a project truck. I miss hanging out on the boards all day.
