Ode to my Transmission

First, you are irritable and short.
Second, you are vague and elusive.
Fourth, you are fickle and sometimes lock me out.
Fifth, your fuel economy comes at the expense of fun.
But third, oh, third... you are the cog I love to flog.

The unifying 914: A Haiku

Loved by left and right,
Wing-nuts and Commies drive them,
Don't discuss politics.

Well Done! And... oh so true!

True, but completely unnecessary. A rebuilt box will blow your mind Flog all day long with nary an elusive gear.

Would love to drive a rebuilt tranny. Looks like next winter's list is growing.

The DAPO

My feelings toward the DAPO are two.
He fixed the hell hole and longs, it's true.
But speakers in the doors!
Single-carb'd the T-4!
Eh, one day I'll be a DAPO, too.

Bravo!

You are very wise grasshopper.

Old P Obsession

I can see them on the road near and far
My notorious twin trunked 70's p-car;
Hooked like a drug and equally costly
That 3 page repair bill will finally toss me;
But out on the road on a twisty mountain drive
My wheels would be engaged and the gearing alive;
I could care less about old faded stranded Miatas
Unless its a damsel with a nice pair of ta-tas...
I've bought up spare parts if they go N-L-A
and moved boxes of parts every which way;
I know that my sweetheart just can't understand
The beauty of a garage statue on a rusty jackstand;
But late in the night does a new post appear
Telling me that the WCR 2010 is coming up near...
I can see my car pulling into the vintage corral,
But then the reality busts my morale;
It will always take up just a little more time
To fire the engine for that old /4 cylinder whine..

On Boxster, on Cayman, and newer 911
Those suckers can high brow their wallets to heaven;
Going to mixers in their nicely pressed tux
And sipping on Mochas at their local Starbucks
I'll be terrorizing the back streets again and again,
And talking up street mods with crazy old men,
Excellence was expected but we are used to fixes
Perhaps we should ALL be out driving Porsche built sixes

Rob Ways

The Roads Taken (with apologies to Robert Frost)

Two Roads diverged in a yellow wood,
So out of my 914 I emerged,
And looked down each as far as I could,
To see if maybe, up ahead, they merged.

But alas, one was twisty and looked lots of fun.
The other was hilly and might be good, too.
I had to decide which road I would run.
Making a decision is so hard to do!

I climbed back inside and ground into first gear.
Signalled left... then right... was about to get back out,
But then, I realized I had never fear.
Whipped out my iPhone, Google Map'd that bitch, and found a circle route.

D-Jet and Mahles
Air cooled autumn aroma
Mid engine marvel

There once was a 914 owner from Nantucket

...naaah, better quit while I'm ahead.

As I Motor Down the Road

The night air is cool and damp
whipping through ill fitting strips of rubber
and gaps from a window needing adjustment.

No heat, of course.
That was a trade off made
long before I had ever driven the little green car.
Who needs it?

It is dark
and my headlights burn dimly
bouncing with the cracks in the pavement
as I motor down the road.

Thudding exhaust and
air screaming through the carburetors
overpower sound proofing
and resonate loudly through the cabin.

I plant my foot to turn up the volume.

Issues.
Problems.
Inconsistencies.
Attuned to my car
listening, counting, planning, mentally fixing
while it fixes me
as I motor down the road.

Zach

I think we can get through this without offending anyone ...



There once was a man from Nantucket
Who's 'Teener was perched upon buckets
Too poor for jack stands
With rust on his hands
His welder friend told him to junk-it



(I don't care what people say, limericks are harder than haiku)

but it's often worthwhile.

The last limerick I wrote won me free tickets to the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra.

Last Sunday in Patterson Park
Young musicians played songs for a lark
They were joined by a hobo
Who played a mean oboe
(His bite was far worse than his Bach)

Nice!
Here's mine...

Tail draggin whiner
Pushin too hard thru the turns
A Teener flies by

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
If You're Looking for a Crazed 914 Driver
Just Call on HotShoe!

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Rust is somewhere between those two

This is a repost.. but still worth posting.

When I am an Old Sports Car Owner"



When I am an old sports car owner...
I shall wear nomex and sunscreen,
And carry an old helmet with me.
And I shall spend my social secruity on racing fuel and tires,
And sit in my garage
And listen to hot engines tick as they cool.
I will sneak out in the middle of a summer night.
And race my old car through the countryside
Ignoring speed limits
If my old bones will allow.
And when people come to call, I will smile and nod
As I walk past the gardens to the garage
And show them my freshly waxed fender.
I will wrench and sweat and wear grease on my face
as if it were a jewel.
A I will be an embarrassment to all,
Who have not yet found the peace in being free
And the joy of a four wheel drift
in a old friend made of metal and rubber and plastic
Who will wait forever
For the kind of person I will be
When I am old.

A sight seldom seen
On the roads of New York
Is a Porsche nine fourteen
With a pinch of horse power
and a dab of torque.

The salt has made them all rust,
The batteries have fallen to hell,
The engines have gone bust,
But a few of us, still think they are swell.