Men Don’t Make Cars (like they used to)


image: Alan Fearnley!biography/c10fk



Men don’t make cars like they used to:

curvaceous lines: red, green or blue,

poetic palettes, rich array of hues.


Horns happily honked, grilles grinned,

wheel-arched tyres, hub-spokes spinned,

engines growled – what wondrous whirlwind!


Dial displays, walnut wood dashboards,

large leather seats with room to afford

  • classic cars will never leave you bored!


Our Sixties saloon-six-cylinder growled,

that brown Triumph 2000 tiger-prowled,

Morris Minors put-putted and scowled.


One day my dad bought an MG sports,

male madness, mid-life crisis of sorts;

all five of us fitted in, of course!


Our parents in hand-stitched seats,

I bent in footwell, near mother’s feet,

boot and bench filled: family complete.


More modest cars purchased on divorce,

gone the grand engines, farewell sport-torque,

all replaced by budget brands of ill-report…



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