Ode to Sally

She just turned 41 years old And her body has seen better days There ain't nothin' graceful in how she moves And God only knows what she weighs. Her old joints creak when it's cold outside Some days it's hard to get going But a pat on her rump and a soft-spoken word Can get her juices flowing. He called her Sally when she was young Not a prettier sight to be seen She was tight and firm and oh so trim In her coat of soft loden green. I remember how he'd care for her When he'd take her for a whirl He was gentle and kind to the lovely lass Yeah....Sally was his girl. I watched their affair through the eyes of a child There was no greater love to be found Than Sally and Grandpa and the years they spent Taking each other to town. Now Grandpa's gone - God rest his soul But Sally, she still gets around She's slower now, but I'd be too After 41 years on the ground. There's still lots of love in the tired old girl And with any kind of luck We'll roll that odometer over once more Sally is my kind of truck. (NOTE:  ''Several years ago when my Grandpa passed away, he bequeathed to me two things....his Martin Guitar and Sally , his 1957 Studebaker Pickup.  My parents thought Sally should spend her final days in the salvage yard, unable to imagine why I would want her...much less continue to drive her..... But I love riding high on her ol' seat...and she'll haul anything, as long as I ask her nice....and heck, all I need is a wrench and some balin' wire to fix her minor ailments.  Yeah...Sally is my kind of truck.  Thanks Grandpa.'')1998, Written November 18th, 2001 © on Nov 18 2001 05:13 AM PST   18 • 0 • 14