Friends would arrive and raise their hoods.
A turn of a wrench. Tap tap with the tool.
Adjustment of the Carb.
to make the engine idle smooth.
And a kick of the tires,
and it's ready to roll.
Old cars come and go with Friends and Stories told.
Now with hi tech of the automobile.
The shade tree mechanic can only scratch his head and say,
'I just don't know', while looking about.
'Where did all the Friends go'?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem