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Terry Yager
June 12th, 2005, 04:13 PM
Have ya heard the story of the hot rod race,
Where the Comets & Falcons were settin the pace?
I'm here to tell ya that story's true,
Cause I was drivin that Sixty-two!

It's got a Falcon motor that barely gets up,
And those Buick taillights make ya say whassup?
Got six cylinders, and uses most,
If they ever all fire, I'll be gone like a ghost!

Got a single-barrel, and a leaky exhaust,
In the carbon monoxide you can really get lost.
The tires are bald, but the brakes are there,
Ya just stomp on the pedal and say a prayer.

Chugged out of Skidway late one night,
And the moon and the stars were shinin bright.
Went rolling down Tickle-belly Hill,
Passin trees like they were standin still.

When all of a sudden, in the wink of an eye,
A Volkswagon bug came and passed us by.
The fellahs all said I could kick his ass,
If I'd put my foot down and give it some gas.

I dropped her down into granny low,
And hit the up-side, pullin slow.
I wound it out to about fourty-five,
My motor was humming like bees in a hive.

A cloud of blue smoke came up under my rug,
When I started to gain on that lil bug.
I yanked on the hand-choke for all it was worth,
And she started to scream like she was givin birth!

The boys all thought I'd lost my mind,
That Vee-dub was hoggin the center line.
I faked to the left, then passed on the right,
Just about that time, I saw the blue light!

Billy Turner hauled me to the Ogemaw jail,
Where I called my brother to save my tail.
And Chuck told me it would make him vomit,
If I didn't just junk that P-O-S Comet!

--T