My Jalopy is Getting Sloppy
Poetry is the food of the soul. It's my greatest contribution to the world and an area I can always grow.
From the Junkyard to the Racetrack, these jalopies would race, get wrecked, and be repaired over and over again
Drip, Drip....A Poem Dedicated to Jalopy Racing and Jalopies Everywhere
My Jalopy is getting sloppy
Between jumpstarts and broken parts
Runs real loud, but leaves a cloud
Her smoking engine, now a local legend
Past her glory, but she has a story
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
Bought and paid and American made
It had some show, although long ago
Toys and whistles, flew like a missile
Went to race, from place to place
Paint was cherry, a dark cranberry
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
Holly shifter, Johnson lifters
Stroker crank was mighty swank
Running large with a custom Carb
Big old smile, fast quarter mile
That checkered flag was in the bag
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
But then a bad feint, some traded paint
An inevitable crash when I was low on cash
She still was running, just not humming
At zero hour, shed’ lose horsepower
That finish line, no longer mine
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
Years went by, I tried and tried
Couldn’t place, a big disgrace
Window missed, now off the list
It hurt my heart as I stripped off parts
Wasn’t funny, but I needed money
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
Traded down, painted her brown
Covered the seats with old bedsheets
Primed and patched each scrape and scratch
Each dent and ding, oh how they sting
Turned the page as she showed her age
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
Now the oil is leaking, springs are squeaking
Buttons worn, seats are torn
And the radio only plays on certain days
Mirror chipped, wires stripped
Carpet frayed, bushings decayed
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
Water pump about to dump
Pistons rattle, a constant battle
Temperature rising, but not surprising
Still the
frustration with the hesitation
Burning gas while trying to pass
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
Radiator wailing, probably failing
Bouncy shocks, broken locks
I keep hoping, but the trunk won’t open
Chrome strips have broken clips
Headlights shine, just not all the time
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
Windshield cracks leave growing tracks
Some parts are lost, like the exhaust
Muffler too, just rusted through
Rear bumper is in a dumpster
No side mirror, another error
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
Steering tight, pulls to the right
Chassis bent, but to what extent
Rusted wheels and leaky seals
Tires are bare, and there is no spare
Jack is gone, it’s at the Pawn
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
When it rains, she’s such a pain
Water leaks, brakes squeak
Windows fog, and it smells like dog
Defroster fan does what it can
Which is very little and non-committal
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
Transmission fluid looks like sewage
Dirty brown, dripping on the ground
Leaking gasket, broken bracket
Hard to shift, if you get the drift
Sounds absurd, but first to third
Drip…
Drip, Drip…
Every part is broken, and she’s always smoking
Her quarter mile now takes a while
Almost required that she gets retired
Maybe find a copy of this old jalopy
Don’t know where or when, but maybe I could race again…
Wilbur “Willie” Berger of Newton, Kansas is shown here receiving the trophy that he was presented for winning the trophy dash at the Kansas State Fairgrounds, Labor Day 1957.
What Exactly is a Jalopy?
The term jalopy was first heard in the 1920's, a time when cheap transportation was in high demand. The Roaring Twenties were good times and automobile production was high in America. Yet due to the Great Depression, demand dropped and car manufacturers began shipping excess inventory to Canada or Mexico. Many of these cars ended up in Mexico’s port in the state of Veracruz, then transported to the capital of the state, Jalapa, to be sold in the Mexican market. With so many arrivals, the dockworkers began calling these cars Jalapas, which later morphed in Jalopies.
© 2021 Ralph Schwartz