Old Tail Lights in the Sky

Ode to a Model A Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, Model A in its stall,

not a spark plug igniting, since late this past fall.

I’d covered ‘Ol Nick with the utmost of care

with hope that no dust will land here or lay there.

Cold battery asleep, Nick’s snug in his bed

a trickle deep charger fuels dreams in his head.

With me in my jammies, I sip some nightcaps.

A stack of repair bills, rest tall on my lap.

When out in the garage there arose such a clatter

I sprang from my armchair almost losing my bladder.

I ran to the truck, through the door down the stairs;

I tore my left hamstring without much a care.

Turned on the lights, Nick’s cover was tossed.

I squinted a little and saw Santa Claus.

I rubbed my eyes, looked again as I blinked

recalled for a moment, my last two or three drinks.

It couldn’t be true, did he pick my ride’s lock?

do I hear in the distance “Jingle Bell Rock?”

I hollered “Who’s that?” to his red and white fleece

and yelled to my wife “Hurry, call the police!”

That’s when it all happened, he fired up the horses,

he’d cranked up my flathead, and showed no remorses.

He touched his red nose, the door opened wide,

Kringle backed up my wide bed to the frozen outside.

It was the last time I’ve seen my ‘31 truck.

I’m left with the bills, feeling down on my luck.

With a bed full of new gifts, an old tire and new toys;

my ride’s now a sleigh visiting good girls and good boys.

To Ol’ Nick, I hollered, “Fly high, Model A.

Ease into third and and show him the way!”

Then I looked to the floor and saw a small note.

Something from Santa, and here’s what he wrote.

“Thanks for the ride, a beauty, indeed,

let this be a lesson to hide your truck’s keys.”

I smiled as I watched tail lights disappear,

thinking maybe I’ll see them at Christmas next year.

If so, I imagine, when gifts late arrive

Santa will know Nick’s best speed

is below 45.

—dj—

Copyright Protected by David Jensen

david@alaskaportraits.com