Sunday, August 27, 2017

the rare poem about the car enthusiast

Life Of A Partsman

I work behind the counter
in an automotive store,
Sometimes I'm a "genious"
Sometimes I'm called much more

I claim I'm no Mechanic
But, when the job gets sick,
The Mechanic comes and asks me
What makes the darn thing tick.

I'm supposed to know the numbers
Of bolts, nuts and gears,
For every car that was ever made
For more than fifty years.

I'm an Engineer and Machinist
And what not, oh My Lord,
I'm supposed to be an Edison
Combined with Henry Ford.

But life would be a pleasure
And I'd grin from ear to ear'
If the customer would only tell me
The Make, Model and Year.

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