Merry Christmas to all the Gear Heads... Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the shop Not a gear head was stirring, not even Mr. Roush New wheels sat there, wrapped in bubble wrap with care In hopes the UPS driver soon would be there The gear heads were nestled all snug in their beds While visions of Alfas drift through their heads And I in my car bed, and racing pajamas Had just parked the car for its long winters nap When out in the shop there arose such a clatter I raced from my bed to see what was the matter Away to the shop I raced like a Ferrari Tore open the door and sang like a canary The moon light it complimented my newly installed under glow Gave flickers of life to new car parts below When what to my wondering ears did I hear But a brown UPS truck, and 8 rally driving musketeers With long haired driver that moved very lento I knew in a moment it must be Captain Slow More rapid than OConnor, his drivers they came His engine he revved, and revved it again, calling them each by their name Now Tanner, Now Ken, Now Miki and Tommi! On, Hannu, On, Markku, On Travis and Marcus To the top of the shop, to the top of the final call Now Race Away, Race away, Race away all As the engines revved not single driver did lift When they meet with an obstacle, they go into a drift So up to the shops, the drivers they flew With a truck full of toys and Captain Slow too And then in a revving, I heard in the street The screeching of tires pent up with heat As I drew in my head, and was turning around In the shop door Captain Slow came with a bound He was dressed all in race gear, from his head to his feet His suite is pressed, neatly and clean, ready to head to a seasonal meet A box full of parts he flung from his truck From the parts I could see, I knew I was in luck His hair how it flowed, like a young teenage girl Hammond cracked jokes, and Clarkson gave him a pearl His face contorted from being very cross The paint on his truck was a nice metallic gloss His truck it put out massive amounts of power It sent black smoke high as a tower It had a compound turbo, that produced too much boost That would whistle so loud ever time it was goosed As he left the shop and got in his truck The rally drivers led him, my how the turbos did suck Off down the road the drivers they drifted Not a single throttle ever was lifted As they raced down the road, with parts in their cars They past a powerstroke that blew its turbo to the stars They revved in harmony, Merry Christmas to all, and too all a good night.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Dec 2014 11:32:01 +0000
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