Ricer's Night before Christmas

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ShobThaBob

ShobThaBob

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Twas the night before Christmas and caught at the
light,
Was a domestic V8 and no cops in sight,
I will try, I will try, I will try with this small
motor,
To beat this Mustang, even with it's big power,
As the light goes green and I pull like no joke,
The Mustang erupts in clouds of tire smoke,
Now Smasher, now Rev-ver, now Stroker, now Blitzin,
These are the names of my four V-TEC pistons,
Racing ahead I'm the Star of the Action,
But I know I'm in trouble when that V8 gets traction,
Grabbing second, I hear the RPM sing,
My mirror is blocked by my Shopping Kart Wing,
I now hear the roar, of that big monster gaining,
All I can do is keep that four-banger straining,
In a second, the shockwave hits with a blast,
And my stickers go flying, now, a thing of the past,
Don't bother with third, cause now it's too late,
Just try to act cool, like you can relate,
Looking up at the taillights as they get smaller,
The driver backs off just to give me a holler,
"You can't win them all," he says in fling,
"You may not win any, in that silly thing",
I scowled and revved and let out a sigh,
And did my trademark high-speed fly-by.
 
:lol: That's great! I should print this out and give it to my friend's brother. He is going to put a "shopping kart wing" on a Chevy Corsica. :odd:
 
HaHa i have to give this to a few friends
 
Very good use of rhyming, ShobThaBob. That was an excellent poem. Keep up the good work, I would like to hear one for Jingle Bells.
 
how long did it take for you to make that up?

Very good, try some more
 
A Turbo Christmas.

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the garage
Not a turbo was spooling, not even the dodge.
The tools were all hung, by the compressor with care
Waiting for the day that my turbo kit would get there
The turbo's were ordered, the ship dates were crap
So I settled down for a long winters nap
So as I finished my jack Daniels, and made my way to bed
Visions of intercoolers danced in my head

When from the garage, there arose such a clatter
I jumped up from the john, to see what's the matter
When up on the rooftop, I could now see clear
A brown ups truck, with 8 tiny reindeer

I rubbed my eyes and squinted, for this I could not believe
Instead of antlers, they had t-63's
and front mount intercoolers, hung from their neck
i needed a closer look, and thought "what the heck"

I made my way to the garage, and what did I see
A fat little bald guy, with a package for me
The door was locked tight, so it was unclear,
Just how that portly UPS guy got here

And just as I thought, how will he leave,
I saw the boost controller mounted on his sleeve
And as he hit the trans brake, the reindeers spooled up
And the ups truck sat there, backfired and hiccupped

Then shot from the roof, with a surge and a woosh
For a second there I thought he had juice
"on Tial, On Greddy, on Garret and GT!"
I heard him exclaim as he sped away from me

And as that UPS truck disappeared to the light, I heard

"Merry Boosting to all, and to all a good night"
 
A Porsche, for the night before Christmas

'Twas the night before
Christmas, and in Jim's garage
not a cylinder turned on his Mitsu Mirage.

Jim was upstairs; he was playing online,
dreaming of new cars that he could call "mine."
The kids were all nestled up snug in their beds
while visions of sports cars danced in their heads.
Jane's duvet was warm, she was deep in a nap,
while in his sweet dreams Jim drove one more lap.

But from the front drive there arose such a roar
that Jim rose from his bed to give them what-for.
Away to the window he flew in a flash,
screaming and yelling he threw up the sash.

Out on the road in the new-fallen snow
Sat a sight that stopped Jim before he could bellow.
For what, to his eyes, should quickly appear
but a guy with no sleigh and no red-nosed reindeer.

He was an old driver, quite wily and quick,
a fast-moving version of good old Saint Nick.
Standing in front of some blue bulbs aglow:
Ah! The xenon high-beams of a new Porsche Turbo.

Jim was confused: "Where's Dasher and Vixen?
And Comet and Cupid and Dancer and Blitzen?"
"Who needs them?" said Nick, "When I cover the ground
in something much faster, that weighs fewer pounds?"

"As dry autumn leaves that before the wind fly,
the Turbo hops trees and it bounds to the sky.
Down by the houses with no one to help me,
I open the top, and toss presents down chimneys."

Jim asked him, "How fast?" And Nick chuckled hard.
"Four hundred horses beats eight tubs of lard.
With quick all-wheel-drive and big winter tires,
this rocket sled really can set streets on fire."

Indeed, in a flash, Jim felt through the ground
the power and torque of a flat-six profound.
He drew in his breath as Nick gave it some gas,
climbed up on the driveway to make a low pass.

Nick wasn't in fur, just a thin Nomex suit,
but he hardly did notice as he gave it the boot.
A bundle of toys rode in the back seat,
but not one fell out as he blazed down the street.

His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses as he drove his fast ferry!
Nick's droll little mouth drew up like a bow,
the beard of his chin glowed white as the snow.

When he came to a stop, Jim's smile was all teeth,
as tire smoke circled Nick's head like a wreath.
He wore Sparco booties and dark Oakley shades
that he wouldn't take off so Jim could on him gaze.

Nick was chubby and plump, was jolly but venerable —
who wouldn't be driving a new Porsche convertible?
With a wink of his eye and a twist of Jim's arm,
he threw over the keys and plipped off the alarm.

Jim spoke not a word, but went straight to the car:
His dream had come true — would Nick let him go far?
Turning the key and flooring the gas,
he flew down the drive and almost mowed grass.

Were it not for Nick's car and its traction control,
Jim's drive may have taken a much greater toll.
But his kids heard him scream as they sped out of sight,
"A fast Christmas to all, and to all — aieee! — a good fright!"

This was written by Lawrence Yap of the Toronto Star's Wheels section.
 
Might as well call this "The Night Before Christmas Thread" then:

A Redneck Night Before Christmas


'Twas the Night before Christmas, and all through the shack
Not a creature was stirrin', cept the lice on muh back.
The skoal cans wuz nailed to the screen door with care,
With hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were sleepin', all snug in their beds,
While visions of tractor pulls danced in their heads.
And Ma in her nightgown all stained with pound cake.
Had just settled down to watch Ricki Lake.

When out in the driveway, a loud noise I heard,
I opened the winder to check muh T-bird.
I ran to the door, like I's on a mission,
But I tripped on some parts from muh granny's transmission.

The moon shone outside, the hound dog wuz barkin'.
Muh daughter weren't home yet, she wuz still out parkin'.

When what to muh whiskey blind eyes should I see
But a Chevy S-10, pulled by eight flyin' sheep.
With a fat nasty driver, so disgustin' and sick
I said "Shoot Fire!" That must be St. Nick!

More rapid than X-lax his wooly sheep came
And he belched and he hollered, and he called 'em by name.

Now CLIFFORD! Now VERNON! Now LESTER and ENUS!
On FESTUS! On ELMER! On ROSCOE and CLETUS!

From the top of the shack to them there garbage bins
Now Dash Away! Dash Away! Dash Away youins!

I heard a loud sound on the roof of muh shack.
Pud down muh beer and went fer muh gun rack.
He fell through the roof, plum killed my dog,
I swear that ole' Santa looked just like Boss Hog.

He wore a T-shirt, rebel flag on the front,
And his jeans were all bloody from that morning's hunt.
A big nekkid lady tattooed on his arm,
And he wore black boots that he'd picked up in 'Nam.

His eyes, how they glazed from too much Wild Turkey.
From the side of his mouth hung a stick of beef jerky.
A scar on his cheek from a fight with the cops.
The veins on his face looked ready to pop.

The butt of a Marlboro clung to his lip
He wore a hip pack full of B-B-Q chips.
He had a fat face and a hairy beer belly.
I ain't seen one that big since muh ex-wife Shelly.

He was gap-toothed and dumb with an I.Q. of three
And I laughed cause that redneck was smarter than me.
A wink of his eye, a fierce shake of his head,
From his hair came a rat that ran under the bed.

He reached in his sack, sipped his gin and tonic,
Then filled the kid's stockings with Hooked on Phonics.
His toys came from Big Lots and they weren't very nice
But he had lots of them and yuh can't beat the price.

He gave us a tape of them hound dogs that sing Jingle Bells.
Some Crisco, some Spam, some Oatmeal Cream pies,
And a Nascar T-shirt in Double X size.

When the presents were gone and he had no more,
He staggered and stumbled right through muh screen door.

He hopped in his truck, to his sheep gave an order
"Hurry up youins! To the Tennessee border!"
And I heard him cry out, with a strong southern drawl,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU REDNECKS! MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL!"
 
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