By
George J. Kimble
“Hearken!” The
Wicked Rally Master Pleads
“Lords and Ladies of Iron and Fiberglass Steeds
Each crook and bend alas uncharted
Will menace those not lion hearted”
“Before thee looms an adventure of epic proportion
Which hath signs of deviltry and distortion
Fair thee well to enumerate and reckon
All attribute and symbol that may gravely beckon”
“You must go forth at your appointed hour
Stray not, and avoid temptation of excessive horsepower
Fortify your beings against doubtful whim
You must consummate ere the day light falls dim”
“Though the itinerary is branched and winding,
To the pathway your oath is binding
Godspeed and safety do not forsake
Amid pestilence of traffic contemplate the brake”
“If you covet to drink from the victory chalice
Unto thyne rivals promote no malice
For each antagonist hath his own hell to pay
To toil over scrolls and documents along the way
“Prudence ‘tis eminently the surest keeper
That shields the contestant from the reaper
Yet, indecision and vacillation, plague the meek
Thus, pilots must consult navigators and wisdom seek”
“If may haps you are lost and filled with anguish
Unfurl the panic scabbard and extinguish
No shame will befall your grace
Others may carry the same shadow upon their face”
“Crusaders abreast your smoldering mounts
Now, Know ye, every heartbeat counts
Tarry not, while abundant clue you contemplate
Time is of the essence, do not be late”
“The quest of the byways is upon us nigh
Within thyne route no missionary can hear your cry
Into awesome sojourns, tempestuous neophytes blindly fly
Toward the marauders keep ever-watchful thyne naked eye
One second of thought ‘tis oft most sly
Some, assuredly will partake of the crow baked within the pie
‘Tis abject to conspire unto lies
Amass, Lords and Ladies, endeavor unto the rally, your noblest try”
By George J. Kimble
Blinding bright Sun
Great day for Corvette fun
Heat waves shimmering over blacktop
Small butterflies fluttering, won’t stop
Air off, Five point tight
Full face secure, wait for the green light
Tached up, Deep breath, inhale
Launch! Squawl, Smoke, don’t lose the tail
Brake Heel, Toe gas
Up shift, turn right, pedal down, kick ass
Turn some more, brake, right pedal down
Up shift, turn in, turn out, rear end comes around
Tight gate!
Not too late
Brake, gear down, gear down, brake harder
Rumble! Smoke! Gotta drive smarter
Gas, more gas, up gear, up gear, don’t swerve
Turn in, tighter, full lock, test your nerve
More power, more gas, apex reached
Break loose, Screech!
Brake, down shift, down shift, other lock,
Loud rumble, Shaking! Depressed shocks
Paste it, up shift, turn left, now turn hard right
Brake, down shift, front end is too damned tight
Turn, turn more, damn it more
Flog it to the floor
Stop! Squeals!
Now you know how a Rat in a Drainpipe feels
Check time! You did all right
You are FTD, smile of delight.
Now get back in line
Try to do a better time
All this in a Parking lot
Wow, some like it Hot!
By
George J. Kimble
It was June of '89 or maybe it was '90
The weather was hot and the Sun was shinny
I had just bought the black Chevy truck
And my '89 Vette still had the new look
My son and I loaded the Vette onto the trailer
It was polished, cleaned, and under a cover custom tailored
Our destination was Bowling Green, Kentucky
To try win the Corvette Home Coming Show, if we were lucky
We arrived at our destination, Beech Bend Park
The sun was setting, it was getting dark
We dropped the Vette at the show field
Then to the camping area the truck we wheeled
Preparing to sleep there under the stars
We marveled at the vast number of Corvette cars
Hundreds parked under the shade trees
And at the gate a line as far as we could see
My, 15 year old, son was filled with fret
The perceived competition had him a nervous wreck
I consoled him, we still had one more day
The judging wasn't scheduled until Sunday
Saturday morning came covered with dew
Everything was wet even our shoes
We drove the pick-up to get something to eat
My son was still worried about the Vette getting beat
We sat near a window eating eggs and toast
The Corvettes were arriving from coast to coast
We returned to the park without making a stop
The vendors were now open and I decided to shop
Still worried my son began to wail
He might have forgotten to polish some minor detail
He ran back to the Vette and removed the cover
If anything was missed he was going to discover
He was all over that Vette like a duck on a bug
He crawled inside and vacuumed the rugs
Then in the distance we heard a roar
Like a fighter jet starting to soar
I hollered," Let's see what's up with it"
We jumped into the truck and drove to the side of the park
On our way there, we passed an original Mako Shark
My son yelled, "What's going on?", To some one who looked official
He replied, "Corvette Challenge", Quick as a whistle
Our eyes popped out, when we saw the staging lanes
My son poked me and said, "Pop, That looks kind of lame"
There in the rows of Vettes set a 300 ZX Nissan
"He should not be allowed to get in and run"
But, there were a couple of Mustangs and a GTO too
We wondered if they were going to run through
Again, the official looking guy was questioned
He said, "You can run too, just pay your admission"
My boy wanted to race our Corvette car
But, didn't want to pick up any dirt or tar
Then a light came over his face
"Let's enter the truck, it will be fun to race"
I winced but couldn't resist his look
I drove to the gate and signed the book
I said, "Okay let's give it a shot"
"Boy, if your mother finds out, she is going to be hot"
Then a guy wrote a number on my window
My son was elated, hollering, "Dad let's go!"
We were staged with an '84 Vette
I gambled a 454SS could win, But, I lost that bet
I was excited and my reaction time was poor
We finished with our bumper along side his door
Three runs against Vettes showed similar result
Then we were paired with the ZX, a final insult
"Pop", He said, "losing to Vettes that's OK"
"But, You had better blow that rice burner away"
We left the line in my usual style
He was ahead of us at the eighth mile
Each time he shifted he lost some space
When we reached the line we had won the race
We were happy as two pigs taking a dip
When we pulled up to get our timing slip
Oh, But, not the guy in the Nissan Z
He was mad as hell and screaming at me
He mentioned my ancestors from the past
And screamed that his Z was supposed to be fast
Getting smoked by a truck was such a crock!
Then I told him it was pure stock
Now, On Sunday our Vette won it's class
Our aim for a great weekend had come to pass
The show Judges presented us with a great plaque
But, The rice burner's loss was what we talked about all the back
Many years have came and went
Off to college my son was sent
Still when we see a 300 Z machine
We wonder at the people who don’t drive the American Dream
By George J. Kimble
Friday
night, five o’clock traffic, Its all jammed
I’m in a hurry. I’ll be damned
I’d like to know the name of the stupid jerk
That laid out the plan for this interstate work
I’ve pointed my Corvette north out of Nashville
I have a date with a road course near Louisville
There is a ton of prep on race day
I do this for the glory not for the pay
I test, I tune, and tires I try
I tweak and adjust to beat the other guy
I want to get there tonight and get some sleep
This line of behemoths is moving at a glacial creep
Three hundred and forty horses under my hood
All that power, and it is doing me no good
Oozing along at a three mile per hour clip
On the horizon the sun is starting to dip
To the right I see a ramp and decide to gamble
Up the darkened exit slowly I ramble
I am not alone when I come to the stop
There is an old Mopar in primer and a ragtop
He turns to the right with a chirp
I think hurry up, Mopar don’t be a jerk
This dark road is narrow, but I’m ready to pass
He lays down rubber and I smell fumes of gas
I keep his winged tail close to my hood
One of his taillights doesn’t work too good
This road is very curvy and not well lit
As I narrow the gap he gives the pedal another hit
We go on like that for several miles
I start to appreciate his driving style
He looks ahead to see if the bends are clear
He crosses lanes and onto the shoulder often veers
This all reminds me of an episode at Watkins Glen
I was just a puppy way back then
I was peddling a 1958 Corvette
Another and I snuck onto the track to settle a bet
My nemesis was a Dodge powered by a Hemi
What I lacked in power, He lost in heavy
I chased him around and around that closed track
He skillfully used it all and kept me in back
Now, this was different because I have plenty of muscle
Everyone knows about Corvettes cornering in a hustle
While handling advantage, now, might be mine
He is a local, and he knows the best line
I chase and dip
and nearly rub his rear
I’m glued so tight I can see him smile in his mirror
He’s driving, like a Matador. He has no fear
I’m tossing and turning and using every gear
Miles slip by like a midnight dream
That ol’ Hemi roars like an assassin’s scream
Suddenly we burst onto a straight
I catch sixth gear, the speedo says one thirty eight
I felt he let me pass him, I didn’t know why
There was an upcoming ninety screaming slow down or die
I down loaded the gears in one hell of a hurry
My Corvette began to shudder like a ship in a fury
He dropped to the inside and, in a glance, was past
Though better equipped, in this two-car race, I was last
The Corvette technology saved me from disaster
But, his experience and knowledge crowned him the master
I settled down and began to follow
My Corvette pride I had to swallow
We came to fork, I took left, and he took right
I flashed my high beams, as a salute, to the best driver that night