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Licensed to Drive

by Gregory Christiano (Age: 70)
copyright 05-12-2003

Age Rating: 4 +
Licensed to Drive

I believe many people have a fond memory of owning their first car. That was something very special. For me it was purchasing a 1949 Dodge Coronet, a 4-door sedan. Picture this behemoth. Weighing over 4,000 lbs, not a rust spot on the body, green color. It even came with that steel visor over the windshield. it was roomy, clean inside and out. Everybody wanted a ride. I obliged of course, I was so proud. It was like a tank. I bought this classic beauty in 1967 when i turned nineteen and had just gotten my driver's license. Guess how much it cost? - $100.00,
that's right, One Hundred Dollars. In those years gas only cost 25 cents a gallon! Imagine that. This is a lighthearted poem commemorating my first car.

When I turned to age nineteen,
Life opened to a dream -
A license to drive at the wheel
And purchase an automobile.

I went out on jalopy hunts
The dealers to confront.
I set my eyes upon the prize,
Made sure I wasn't skunked.

I searched all over town,
Then I finally found
The car of my dreams
I laid down a scheme.
The dealer was out to lunch!

In starlight it really gleamed
A '49 Dodge, it seemed
Was the right car for me,
So don't you see,
I couldn't do anything else.

A classic, pristine and a rose,
This car I finally chose.
I plunked down my cash
Then made a quick dash
And drove this beauty away.

Her body was perfect in speed.
No rust, no dents, no need
To get it repaired, or dare I say,
She was very charming indeed!

I drove her all around,
My friends I did astound!
They wanted a ride, I couldn't hide,
"Hop in!" we were highway bound.

This dream lasted two more years,
Until, in a vale of tears,
I had to buy something new.
A present-day model will do.

My first love departed
To the junk heap was carted,
But I'll always remember you!


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        01-04-2008     Jordan Screws        

This is amusing, Sir Gregory. In a way, it reminds me of my own driving experience around nineteen. I got a hand-me-down 1992 Pontiac Bonneville SSE that was white. It too had the construction and maneuverability of a tank, but it had something else: it was mine at long last! My parents owned it, but I was the primary driver, so in a roundabout way it was mine... technicalities aside, that was my start to life on the road. Two years and many repair bills later, I still have it and have even come to like it.

Your poem reminds me of the thrill of driving independently for the first time. The thrill of (moderate) speed, the agony of repair bills, and the sorrow that will eventually come when I am finally able to select a new vehicle and dispose of the old one will one day be mine like it was yours. This poem is a humorous take on the experience of a teenage driver and their first vehicle. The first vehicle is usually an old "clunker", but you seem to have had the fortune to acquire a NEW one way back when before gasoline became outrageously expensive. I envy you on both counts.

Thanks for sharing your experience through this humorous and wonderful poem. Maybe one day I will be able to write about my Tallgeese (the nickname I bestowed on my vehicle: it comes from an old Mobile Suit from an anime called Gundam Wing) and its adventures. Again, thanks for sharing this with everyone.

        02-03-2005     Anthony Lane Stahlhut        

My first car was a truck. Painted farm blue, it didn't have a bed so I had to build a wooden flat bed. The gear shift was on the collum and there were only three gears. You have taken down a very nice streach of memory lane. Thanks Gregory, Anthony

        07-31-2003     Paul Kangas        

I wish I had a licesence to drive, LOL

        07-01-2003     Jenny Stein        

ahh,..i get to drive soon. my friend has an old car and he has fallen in love with her as well. 30 days til i can drive! oh , ya, sorry i got sidetracked..your poem made me ancy but in a good wau. i like it./

        05-12-2003     Janet Owenby        

To a guy his first car is more unforgettable than his first girl. Awesome write again gregory

        05-12-2003     Christine Berthiaume        

shouldn't the 3rd from last verse on the third line read, "they wanted a ride, I couldn't hide"
good poem though. I remember my first car too. I was 33 when I started driving.

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