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grab a snack, a seat, and/or a drink, because this is long
I'm sharing a poem about my 1961 Ranchero which is thematically on topic, but stylistically an outlier in a hobby forum. I mean, unless the forum was for amateur poets in which case you'd see a lot of it I guess. But not here so much. So this is going to look a little weird here, and I get that, but someone might enjoy it. (If you don't make it all the way to the end I'll quite understand.)
This poem is about a 3-day journey I took this week, starting shortly after dawn Sunday morning, and arriving home to Shelton Tuesday night circa midnight.
A poem about travels can't help but remind me of the St. Ive's ditty, which tends to stick in the head due to repeated words and themes, ending with a clever riddle that you never forget. While mine is also about a journey, I've deliberately minimized repetition of words, and I pose no riddle at the end. Although truth be told, you might end up with question(s) at the end but none posed by me. It might be any number of unanswered questions which pop into your mind, starting with "what possessed a man to write and/or post poetry in a Falcon forum?" But some questions really have no rational answer so I cannot promise a satisfactory reply!
Best I can explain is this: There really is a lot of time on the open road, and on the last leg of my trip some rhymes and phrases kept falling together in my head. Some of them, I liked how they meshed so I tried to remember them.
Then, sleep deprived from 2 nights of napping in my car, I slept sound and heavy Tuesday night. But upon waking I sorted those rhymes and phrases out, organized, wrote some new ones to fill out the story, and here it is:
1961 Ford Falcon Ranchero
(Latest Chapter)
I arrived in the dark, after twilight and sunset
Patrick signaled his flashlight, so finally we met
I'd driven since morning, crossed a state line or two
Seeking Falcon exhaust pipes, and a muffler too
I'm building a specific car, a classic
A family project (though my kids didn't ask it!)
But help they have, not inconsequential
Their assistance has been absolutely essential
These parts I can't get in my local store
Mail order would take weeks, or more
Only one solution would do the trick
I jumped in the car (and drove rather quick)
To meet a man who's already done
Restoring his own Falcon (as we do for fun)
His '61 Sedan is show-stopping stunning
For first place ribbon, this one's in the running
"You're crazy!" he admired, suppressing a laugh
Like a compliment lightly folded in half
"I've never driven a distance so far
Just to get a part for my car!"
But I saw the Falcon that Patrick restored
With that '61 grill I've always adored
And couldn't help think "he's one to talk!
I drove the drive but he's walked the walk."
His car was restored by his very own hand
And much finer than anything I have planned
In contrast, I've barely given a fraction
Of the commitment this man has put into action
My 61 Ranchero is just barely driving
The mechanics around here don't think she's thriving
Some even recommend I just "put her down"
As she sputters and steams when I roll into town
But it's more than just a car to me
I'm redeeming some personal history
Building it to match the one I once had
My first car, the hand-me-down Ranchero from dad
Patrick answered my questions (yes I had a few)
But the late got later and finally I flew
Las Gatos to Las Vegas on long highways
Through desert, over interstates and lesser byways
To answer the craigslist ad for wheels
From a 61 Falcon, is it worth the ordeal?
After I got there, the answer was yes
For what I saw seemed nearly priceless
Kirby's '61 Falcon Station Wagon
Is worthy in every way of braggin'
This was his dad's own original Ford
Now 60 years old, preserved and restored
A few minor upgrades but mostly she's stock
A gorgeous teal repaint, the envy of the block
Each little detail shows the love and care
Over many decades of maintenance and repair
Preserving some family history
Is appreciated by the likes of me
But finding our cars had the same interior
Elevated this visit to something superior
"Number 54" is the name of the trim
Of the ranch-themed seats that Ford had put in
To some of the Falcons when factory new
But over the years I've seen only two
In person that is, but this wagon makes three
And oh what an exciting thing to see
Although the seats were since replaced
But clues were there for me to trace
His door panels were the same color I knew
Then I checked the door plate, and it matched too
Trim 54 below the serial number
Meant the cowboy seat pattern had once graced this wonder
Branding iron design ain't easy to find
It was damn near impossible for me to get mine!
But having done so, then I had fun
Telling Kirby which upholsterer could get it done
That's how it is when Falcon fans meet
Two strangers who'd otherwise pass on the street
But common passion creates instant bond
Gushing over the Falcons of which we're so fond
Well now I'm home with my new/old parts
And my Ranchero which so noisily starts
Might tomorrow be more pleasant to hear
With factory-spec muffler installed in the rear
But the bigger change which might longer last
When I look back, when now becomes past
Are the memories I'm making with family and friends
The Ranchero is just my means to that end
And what better metaphor could there be?
Cars take you from points A to B
I don't think it requires my explanation
The value of connecting between generations
So watch this space, in case I write more
Maybe after I paint, or repanel the doors
In remembering the past, I'll give to the future
A Ranchero that looks and drives just as I knew her
Todd Richert RN
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