c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(3-25)
Eventually, even the holidays provided an opportunity to speak poetically about my long-lost, GM hatchback. In our local newspaper of record, I offered a yuletide carol that was based on thoughts about flying over drifts of winter snow, in my economy sedan. Readers took this as a comical, down-to-earth statement of seasonal cheer. Yet it reflected a deeper meaning for myself. I was conflicted about having owned this budget product. It failed to yield the sort of lifespan that I had imagined when first signing paperwork for the dealership, and Bank One, in 1984. But, this experience of contrasts did not fade over time. Instead, the boxy, appliance-on-wheels became a benchmark for all my future vehicles. I judged everything according to how the Shove-It had performed.
My noel ditty ran just before Santa’s arrival, in a weekly edition of the paper.
“Christmas Chevette” (From the Geauga County Maple Leaf, November, 2010)
See the USA
In your Chevrolet
That’s what commercials say
But when you’re poor
This is what you get
A second-hand Chevette
Yuletide grins
And icy spins
Make the holidays begin
But when you’re broke
Better place your bet
On a second-hand Chevette
Santa’s sleigh
Ain’t a Chevrolet
He can fly both night and day
So I’ll pretend
I’ve got a jet
Not a second-hand Chevette
Chestnuts roast
A holiday toast
To those we love the most
Then the dream is done
‘Cause don’t forget
We’ve got a second-hand Chevette
A Christmas tree
A shopping spree
Wish your neighbors peace
But a rough ride home
Is what you get
In a second-hand Chevette
Sleigh bells ring
And carolers sing
Of what St. Nick will bring
But a lump of coal
Is what you expect
With a second-hand Chevette
A flannel cap
In Christmas wrap
Patterned from a treasure map
Gifts on the cheap
But don’t you fret
With a second-hand Chevette
Friends and fun
This day is done
The Yuletide hymn is sung
Now it’s back to work
For a weekly check
In your second-hand Chevette
When reviewed in hindsight, this composition evokes memories of garlands and glitter, and a live evergreen decorated in our living room. A centerpiece for family celebrations, enjoyed by all. But with many years having passed since those festive days of yore, I now think that extra verses for this offering might have been written.
Looking backward across the time continuum, through a lens of nostalgia, I began to imagine what might have been penned, if my endurance had proven to be greater. The result follows here, delivered in a similar spirit to that page from long ago.
“Chevette Diesel Christmas”
I’m getting dieseled for Christmas
Along with egg nog and mints
My pants pockets are still empty
Full of nothing but pennies and lint
I couldn’t make do with a pittance
No presents now under the tree
So, Santa Claus brought me a hatchback
A brand new, Chevrolet D
I’m getting dieseled for Christmas
I thought that my old car was slow
But now it takes even longer
To go spinning my wheels in the snow
Neighbors can’t keep from their laughing
Festive they are at this time
Who knew that General Motors
Had a North Pole production line?
I’m getting dieseled for Christmas
The car makes a rattling sound
When I go romping ‘round the village
Black smoke and fumes will abound
St. Nicholas thinks that his present
Is something that I should adore
But nothing exciting ever happens
When I put my foot to the floor
I’m getting dieseled for Christmas
My Chevy is a champ at the pump
But it won’t land in an auto museum
More likely it is destined for a dump
Brother brags about his new stereo
Sister got blankets and clothes
But I sit here at the steering wheel
After a punch in the nose
I’m getting dieseled for Christmas
Rudolph must run far away
The reindeer could do a lot better
Motorvating Father C and his sleigh
No matter how I work the gear shifter
Or stomp on the pedal for fuel
The Chevette just takes it in stride
No hurry for this four-cylinder mule
I’m getting dieseled for Christmas
Santa brought what I deserve
Grandma says I should’ve been better
In a year with good deeds on reserve
But I bought into the notion
That intentions were powerful enough
I wanted to get off the naughty list
Yet that hope failed our fat man’s trust
I’m getting dieseled for Christmas
That rig is now under the tree
A smoke-belching Chevy, the T-car
Is apparently all that I need
Big trucks might have that motor
They rule the roads like a king
But my poor Chevette doesn’t do so well
I’d rather have won a decoder ring
I’m getting dieseled for Christmas
This is the wages of sin
I did not behave when I should have
So, now I’m outside, looking in
St. Nicholas played a trick with his present
That Chevy made my face frown with fear
Now I’m the slowpoke on every street
With honking horns buzzing my ears!
My father once owned a diesel version of the VW Golf. And though it was certainly not a competitor for their GTI model, its performance was satisfactory. I took it for a test drive during a summer vacation, and it ran strong. My sire reported that with a full load of grandchildren and goodies, the German transport still returned 50 mpg or more. It liked to be worked hard, in the manner of a farm animal. Something that I imagined was not the case with a diesel Chevette. Though on the basis of rarity, owning one might be viewed as an accomplishment worth boasting about, in automotive circles.
Driving my Chevette for three years was a mixed personal experience. Yet no one can argue that it left an imprint not erased by the ticking of a clock. Or the regular turning of calendar pages. In a sense, it gave me membership in a club where a call of the roll would include many Americans, from all walks of life. Each of us had our own reasons for buying one of these humble people-haulers.
Our stories of on-the-road adventures might not equal the prose of Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs, or Allen Ginsberg. But they have become, indelibly, part of modern lore.
No comments:
Post a Comment