Oh boy, I have my work cut out for me this spring and summer! I have decided to sell my beloved brown cabover Freightliner and reinvest those funds into finishing some other projects I\u2019ve had lingering around. One of those projects is my 1989 Freightliner FLD that I\u2019m building to resemble dad\u2019s brand new one that impressed me so much when I was 12 years old. While that old truck isn\u2019t specifically the subject of this poem, the concept is similar. This poem is about a rusty, crusty, or just plain dusty old truck that was put away decades ago, but still captures the heart of its owner \u2013 and maybe inspires them to put it back on the road someday. Maybe it hasn\u2019t seen the open highway since Milli Vanilli invented Karaoke. Maybe it has been growing grass under it since Kenny Chesney had a mullet. Perhaps the oil pan still has the oil you bought back when Shell Rotella gave free \u201cFarther Down The Road\u201d cassette tapes for buying a couple gallons of their brand of Texas Tea. But the vision for lighting her up and rolling through town again keeps her from heading to the scrap pile. After all, those old rigs just need air, fuel, and fire to roar to life. They don\u2019t rely on unreliable foreign sensors and microprocessors, they turn their big noses up to fuel efficient aeros, and are just plain fun to drive, all while running on rancid old diesel that has been sitting in the tanks since the pumps tallied gallons faster than dollars. Get out and do something with that old dinosaur that was set aside in favor of newer equipment. Leave those truck payments in your pocket and direct them to something more fun. The same wind is still out there for the pushing. And don\u2019t try to tell me it\u2019s bad for the environment. Resurrecting a beautiful old big rig is the most enjoyable form of recycling that I can think of. Now, get out there and fire that old thing up!<\/p>
BUSTED-UP JEWELS Well this thing ain\u2019t pretty, This ain\u2019t the kind of rig, She\u2019s sittin\u2019 on six,
By Trevor Hardwick<\/strong><\/p>![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/04\/MayPoemPic01.jpg\")
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And it ain\u2019t so plush.
And it ain\u2019t your rig,
If you\u2019re trying to rush.<\/p>
Fit for a king.
She\u2019s a keeper, if you\u2019re into,
That sort of thing.<\/p>
Out of ten, of her wheels.
She\u2019ll never be finished,
Least that\u2019s how it feels.<\/p>