Post by docmilloy on Mar 5, 2012 20:43:55 GMT
just a daft poem to start the season. It's not Capri specific just "old skool"
fords
.
As the spring morning sun hangs low in the sky
I look to the garage with a glint in my eye
As I’ve waited all winter for this day to arrive
To turn that key over and bring her alive
Since I have spent all the winter buying parts I won’t use
Like a crazed Ebay buyer all fuelled up on booze
I pull the door open and the sunlight floods in
And stare at the car with the cheekiest grin
As the dust cover slides off that rear bubble arch
It’s the day of all days…yes it’s the 1st day in March
So with a rasp and I burble the pinto turns over
Now bring on the shows till the end of October
I edge her out gently with that signature rumble
And smirk at the neighbours as they gather and mumble
Then they swoop up their kids with a promise of “treat”
For fear of my antics as I tear up the street
Then I’m off down the road to the mot station
With the hopeful result to bring joy and elation
I kick her out sideways and drift just for fun
Then finish off nicely with a cool handbrake turn
With the doughnuts and burnouts and side step of clutch
Just add to the madness, and I love it so much
But these things are done with a sensible head
For the fear of being branded a middle aged ned!
As the sun has not long risen and the tarmac awaits
I’m uphill in second and over those grates
As I pick up speed quickly through the cool morning mist
The temptation to “floor it” is too good to resist
But fuelled with excitement is a feel you know
As you join with the convoy and head to the show
From RS to XR then Brooklands to ghia
The Harrier the Mexico , the cars are all here
From bright signal amber to rare Java green
The collage of colours just adds to the scene
From NOS metal with new shiny paint
To shells resurrected with the help of a saint
So I say to you all, you blue oval lovers
We all have fine fords which compare to no others
The rusty, the pristine, the cherished, the thrashed
The concours, the shiny, the rockets, the bashed
With hard sweat and grinding, and welding of parts
If one things for certain, it’s our oval shaped hearts
David Milloy
fords
.
As the spring morning sun hangs low in the sky
I look to the garage with a glint in my eye
As I’ve waited all winter for this day to arrive
To turn that key over and bring her alive
Since I have spent all the winter buying parts I won’t use
Like a crazed Ebay buyer all fuelled up on booze
I pull the door open and the sunlight floods in
And stare at the car with the cheekiest grin
As the dust cover slides off that rear bubble arch
It’s the day of all days…yes it’s the 1st day in March
So with a rasp and I burble the pinto turns over
Now bring on the shows till the end of October
I edge her out gently with that signature rumble
And smirk at the neighbours as they gather and mumble
Then they swoop up their kids with a promise of “treat”
For fear of my antics as I tear up the street
Then I’m off down the road to the mot station
With the hopeful result to bring joy and elation
I kick her out sideways and drift just for fun
Then finish off nicely with a cool handbrake turn
With the doughnuts and burnouts and side step of clutch
Just add to the madness, and I love it so much
But these things are done with a sensible head
For the fear of being branded a middle aged ned!
As the sun has not long risen and the tarmac awaits
I’m uphill in second and over those grates
As I pick up speed quickly through the cool morning mist
The temptation to “floor it” is too good to resist
But fuelled with excitement is a feel you know
As you join with the convoy and head to the show
From RS to XR then Brooklands to ghia
The Harrier the Mexico , the cars are all here
From bright signal amber to rare Java green
The collage of colours just adds to the scene
From NOS metal with new shiny paint
To shells resurrected with the help of a saint
So I say to you all, you blue oval lovers
We all have fine fords which compare to no others
The rusty, the pristine, the cherished, the thrashed
The concours, the shiny, the rockets, the bashed
With hard sweat and grinding, and welding of parts
If one things for certain, it’s our oval shaped hearts
David Milloy
Well done Dave I like this one. 
