Tuesday we loaded in to our fifth Penske truck, after a series of roadside disasters and a series of mid-snowstorm truck switches initiated by the flaming death of our first truck, lovingly nick-named "Bughead". I thought it was only appropriate to give our truck a eulogy in a true shakespearean fashion:
Alas, poor Bughead! We knew him well: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent strength: he hath
borne our set on his back twenty six times; and now, how
abhorred in our imagination it is! our gorge rims at
it. Here hung the gate that we have lifted I know
not how oft. Where be your treads now? your axle?
your engine? your flashes of speed, that were wont to
set the highway on a roar? Not one now,
to mock your own driving? quite chap-fallen?
Now get you to Penske's chamber, and tell them,
let them paint an inch thick, to your repair they must
come; make them weep at that.
Kristen Henley
No comments:
Post a Comment