Poem: This is My Truck

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This Is My Truck
a poem of thanksgiving

This is my truck,
This is my truck with 4 wheel drive.
This is my truck with 4 wheel drive
that miraculously turned to 4 wheel slide

and pirouetted in a lazy arc,
a oft shown scene from a C grade action film,
a perfect 360 degrees
with skid marks black and dramatic

illustrating the path for all to see
how exactly I landed, oh so softly in the bushes
that line the creek holding me softly, gently
from the muck below.

This is my truck,
where I sat for a hour, waiting for Triple A,
those knights in rusty armor,
with their winches and hooks.

This is my truck,
where I sat for an hour, heat running,
crawling out time and time again,
forty three times to be precise

to assure all the passersby that I was not a corpse,
or even injured, merely embarrassed
and laughing at myself as I took pictures
of the elegant limbs that protected me from disaster.

This is my truck, with an extra scratch or two,
but otherwise just fine, better than fine really,
worth the entire adventure to know that here
in my lovely corner of nowhere Vermont

there are 42 strangers, kind and true and good
who would stop for a Samaritan on a cold and snowy day,
reminding me once again
why I live here.

About this poem

Sometimes you gotta have fun with poetry, and life. I really did find myself sliding along the road just north of town this morning, and ended down a small bank, at the edge of a creek, saved by some scrubby shrubby things.

I am fine. The truck is fine. A couple of the schrubs took a beating. And while I waited, not long in fact, for AAA, 42 people really DID stop to ask if I was OK and if they could help. Yeah, small towns mean everyone knows what you’re up to, but it also means they are there when you need them.  It was worth it all for that little reminder. I’m a grateful guy.

Tom

PS – And yes, I really did take pictures while I waited. I don’t know, I just thought the shrubby things were kinda pretty.

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9 comments

  1. The shrubby things are pretty…graceful with the dots of water.

    Following your poetry this day – things started a little hesitantly (Receding Waters) and this “pirouette” in your truck could have been a much darker “ballet”. I think the 42 caring strangers and your humor are proof positive that the road to recovery will be paved with warmth, a lightening heart and life.

    Thankfully you were not hurt as your faithful readers do not want that pen stilled even for a day.

    • Just because you saw me flying away from church like the Duke brothers yesterday……

      Fortunately, I was on the low side of 30 today, or it might have been a much different story!.

  2. Don’t listen to them folk Tom Always Always drive faster …cuz once you start to slide & 360 you need the momentum to 360 AGAIN straighten her out and keep on trucking

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