Lynn White

Morris Minors

This is a tale

of three Morris Minors,

once upon a time.

Liz had an old green Morris Minor.

It knew the road between Liverpool and Derbyshire 

intimately

and she was generous with her lifts

until the day the breaks failed

completely.

We had just passed the Cat And Fiddle,

right on the tops 

with the long steep decent ahead.

Liz was a good driver.

My Morris Minor was black

with stripes of rust in its wheel arches

and no floor at the back.

Back seat passengers came away 

with wet feet.

Even the patching with beer cans 

made little difference.

It failed the test.

Alan had a white Morris Minor

with a perfect body,

breaks

and floor,

but the gear box was shattered.

The gears didn’t work.

Still no one could steal it.

The three of us put our heads together

and came up with a solution.

We would put the best bits together

to make one car

which we would share.

Liz and Alan were cool mechanics

and I made good coffee to keep them going.

We were pleased with the result,

a beautiful white Morris Minor

with floor,

breaks 

and gears.

But it still failed its test.

Beetle

They had a reputation for reliability

but there’s always an exception to the rule.

Mine was the exception

with an inclination 

to come to a halt

for no reason,

just a whim.

It was worse after it was fixed,

it’s tappets adjusted

or perhaps renewed.

It became so afraid of stalling 

that it was reluctant even to start.

One part of the car park was on a slight slope.

I got to work early to make sure of my place.

I switched on the engine,

gave it a push,

leapt inside

and put it into gear.

Usually that did the trick

and the engine spluttered into life.

No way will I let anyone fix tappets

on my car again.

First published in Pilcrow and Dagger, November 2018

Red Car

The abandoned car stood on the waste ground,

rusting away, doors hanging off, leather seats ripped.

The children played there on warm summer days

but I was not allowed.

The place was dangerous

and the children were rough.

It was the first time I had ever been in a car.

I sat behind the wheel to drive it making

engine noises like a bus.

It was a black car.

In those days all cars were black.

Any colour you like, so long as it’s black.

I thought that a red one would have been nicer.

First published in Blognostics, June 2018