Honda! Honda! Poem by Sandy Fulton

Honda! Honda! Rising bright
To auto heaven through the night!
I see you polished, as when new
Your shining frame came into view.

Not from a fact'ry in Japan,
But from another in our land.
Californians built your line
Back in nineteen eighty-nine.

From infancy you were my friend,
As up and down the roads we'd wend,
Blithely roaming down a lane
With stick shift knob, computer brain,

Sky blue paint and front wheel drive.
Miles per gallon: twenty-five.
I hope you didn't mind some snickers,
Displaying all those bumper stickers.

How I loved your spoiler cute,
Your horn that made a little toot,
Your seat belt warning that always talked
("Bee-fifty-two") until I locked.

Did you think you were a jet?
But little car, you couldn't get
Beyond the speed of sixty-five.
Perhaps that's how you stayed alive

To the age of twenty-three
And give so many years to me.
Dave said you thrived on low and slow,
He kept you going, saved me dough.

Yes, you steered a little rough.
So what? It kept my biceps tough.
And what engine, and what brakes,
Could last so long without some aches?

But then you braked your last, and broke.
So now you'll fly beyond the smoke
To heaven's garage, where good machines
Are honored more than kings and queens.

You'll meet the Toaster and the Chair,
And all the useful gadgets there,
And drive around, until Time ends,
On new highways, streets and bends,

Or maybe you'll enjoy a rest?
I'm sure you'll choose what suits you best.
Honda! Honda! Rising high
To auto heaven in the sky!