Southwind

Back in the Eighties some friends came to call,

They were hopin’ to see America’s all.

Now eight people don’t fit in a green MGB,

A Super-cab Ford or a red Mercury.

Rented a Southwind, it could sleep eight,

If it gets to Montana, that would be great.

Four fifty-four and leaky exhaust,

There’s no GPS if we get lost.

We headed out West on Interstate Ten,

So they could tell ‘bout the places they’d been.

The West Texas sun was beatin’ on down,

And six MPG was makin’ me frown.

At Carlsbad we saw a hole in the ground,

Where upside down bats were hangin’ around.

Went to Nogales, we crossed the line,

To the tourist shops we made a beeline.

Pressed on to Tucson, had a flat tire,

Rusty old the tailpipe held with barb wire.

The Salt River Canyon gave us a fright,

We had to make Holbrook by night.

Spent some time at the Petrified Forest,

Watched The Painted Desert out before us.

Stood on the corner in Winslow, A .Z.

We heeded the call to take it E. Z.

Took a small detour to the Grand Canyon,

You ought to see it with a companion.

Headed for Vegas, crossed Hoover Dam,

Nearly ran over a big desert ram.

At Circus Circus we let the kids play,

But we stayed there for only one day.

At Beaver, Utah the engine died out,

And all of us were a-startin’ to pout.

Hayseed mechanic fixed it up good,

By spendin’ the night under the hood.

Looked at the time, looked at the route,

The plan wouldn’t work, Montana was out.

Durango, Colorado, another flat tire,

Of all this trouble, we’re startin’ to tire.

Ruined a drum with a hung up E-brake,

Don’t how much more of this we can take.

Rock hit the windshield and left a big crack,

But nuthin’ was gonna’ throw us off track.

At Six Flags we started to try out the rides,

Until they began to hurt our backsides.

Well after dark we started for home,

Pretty certain we’d never more roam.

At new Braunfels, Texas it died again,

It was startin’ to feel like we couldn’t win.

I called a friend to bring me some gas,

It was 3AM when he came at last.

We finally hit old Judson Road,

I was tired of peddlin’ this big load.

Hit a dip a little too fast,

From the rear there came quite a crash.

Then we smelled sumthin’ real rank,

We had just lost the holdin’ tank.

It sorta was the vacation from Hell,

But we all would have some stories to tell.

LDT March 30, ‘24

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