It’s time to let the poet out. Yes, that’s right, the poet. Last week in Canada was cold and the future forecasts were all calling for snow. As of today, they were right. But last week, we had a few days left to drive. While driving those last days, I started thinking about how much I will miss her this winter. I figure that if I can wrench on the MGB, I can also write a poem about her. So, this is my poem, titled, My Winter MG Blues:

The Words

My Winter MG Blues

By Peter Sanderson

I put up my hood, as the temperature falls,

Its November eleventh, and old man winter calls,

Hours and days but not weeks remain,

I know very soon; I will go insane.

I get into my B and I drive away,

Through country roads and on the highway,

Dressed in down jacket, its above freezing,

Yet the colder it gets, the engine is more pleasing.

Is this the last drive?

Oh, how will I survive?

When she gets put to bed,

To sleep like the dead.

Weeks, and months will slowly go by,

And I’ll think about her often, as I let out a sigh,

Touch her indeed, with a wrench in one hand,

As I start the winter work, my list will surely expand!

The diff and the springs, they all need attention,

Out comes books, videos, and my complete collection,

YouTube and friends, will guide me at times,

As I wrench away, fixing time’s mechanical crimes.

But take heart, spring will soon be around,

And she’ll emerge from her cocoon, with improvements profound,

That chorus of Stebro will be heard once more,

As sparks ignite petrol, and neighbors hear her roar.

So, winter hum drum, the season of blues,

No driving my MG, or worrying about a fuse,

There’s still a day or two ahead, and I’ll drive every last minute,

But sooner than later, she will go away, I have to admit it.