Cars Poem by Diane H


Rating: 5.0

My toddler grandson squats beside a parked
car to examine the wheels and undercarriage.
I know more about cars than he does
(temporarily) , so I tell him what an axle is.
“Brmm…..brmm…, ” he replies. He gets it.

Satisfied, he stands up and points to the door handle.
He wants me to open the door, but it’s not my car.
“I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that, ” I say.
My grandson’s name is not Dave, but I’m bored
so I’m doing my impression of HAL 9000 when
Dave says, “Open the pod bay doors please HAL”
and HAL answers, “I’m sorry Dave……….”

We walk home. We watch cars go by.
Wheels spin so fast, it’s like trying to watch the
legs of a galloping animal without the benefit
of slow motion replay. My grandson knows that
herds of cars follow well-established trails. He
can pick out several species of car already:

If only his Dad wasn’t irreversibly civilized, my
grandson might have someday learnt to hunt cars:
Prowl the fringes of the herd, pick out the old and lame,
distract the car by throwing rocks and attack its most
vulnerable part, the soft rubber feet. Or, separate the
babies - the bicycles. They’re all legs and no muscle.
Maybe join a band of boys to tackle a bus
or truck for the manhood initiation rite.
Afterwards, all the men could put on car skins
and pretend to be the cars themselves.

Danny Draper 18 October 2013

A fine story but error in that young men ultimately court old cars and while to attract a mate and mates tribally, adore them with gifts and adornments beyond the old vehicles nett worth with no chance of recouping an equitable return... except experience, like that of sexual and social maturity through a journey, a rites of passage with rusty worn out jalopies and their declining components until ultimately successive car plans and wreckers are exhausted of components, but forever romanced as symbols of freedom. Although often reviewed within the sage safety of advanced maturity and the experiences of better cars and fulfilling relationships with people after learning nurturing skills in youth of old devices, unreliable, but cherished to realise liberty and society. Yes Hal we will open the pod bay door (metaphoric garage) closing it ever after will be the problem. :)

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Valerie Dohren 17 October 2013

Where would men be without their cars - they certainly seem to identify with them.

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Valsa George 15 October 2013

Boys have an irresistible fascination for cars and it develops at the very tender age! Your toddler grandson is no exception! ! His classification and naming of the cars is so natural and sound so very interesting! You are perfectly right.... All men can put on car skins and pretend to be cars themselves! Novelty of theme and novel approach! Enjoyed! !

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Lyn Paul 14 October 2013

You are such a story teller. Well done. funny idea about the car skins ` Lycra?

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Bri Edwards 16 March 2015

i laughed at rubber feet. good one! hmmm? the kid will grow up knowing what an axle is [IF you knew what you were talking about; unlikely, seeing as you are 'Woman']. BUT he will always be unsure of his real first name. growing up, as they say, i recall not wanting to do two things when old enough to do them. NO, not that! 1-become a soldier and 2- drive a car. i never did become a soldier (was conscientious objector and worked two years as civilian hospital employee instead) , BUT i did learn to drive a car and i owned a few in my lifetime, but not because i knew anything about cars, or particularly liked having one (except for the convenience/necessity) . i even drove a delivery truck as a job for two years. gave up car almost ten years ago and walk most places when i'm by myself. Once when i was depending on a bus to get me back home, i ended up walking the last 17 miles because the bus schedule sucked! oops! am i allowed to say 'sucked' on PH? the poem is 'great'. i assume it is (sort of) true. you DO have a grandson, don't you? do you remember his name? Toyota? bri :) some interesting comments. to MyPoemList.

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Douglas Scotney 20 November 2013

It's not only his dad stopping him hunting. I'd go 'If only for civilization'. I picked up that '2001' ref. before reading your explanation and thought a version for the cognoscenti without those 4 lines would bring a snide to their mouths. Great thoughts and expression.

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Heather Wilkins 16 November 2013

all boys and men like their cars. a good write

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Muzaffer Akin 27 October 2013

Pefect, congratulations..

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Dinesan Madathil 20 October 2013

This is an enticing account of an episode that seems to be personal but even more than that. This poem speaks about your wide range of perceptions, Daine Haine.

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