LXXXIII
Autumn is ...
A time of mists and mellow fruitfulness...
And cars that will not start.
My car is old
As nights grow cold
Getting it going is an art.
Our garden is gossamer webbed
With dew drop bright shining beads.
The battery is dead,
So my neighbour said
Now where did I put the jump leads?
Each chestnut leaf's carefully outlined
With a warm rusty-gold Autumn hue.
Shall I bump start it?
Oh damn and blast it.
Perhaps just a good kick would do.
Could I have flooded the engine?
Perhaps the spark plugs are not clean
Is my fan belt on right?
Or is it too tight?
I do not understand this machine.
The holly trees glow in the sunlight
And under them scuffles a wren.
How I hate this car.
Shall I sell it? Ah!
The engine turned over just then.
I'm sure I need more exercise
And I know just what I should do.
Get rid of this vehicle
And buy a cycle.
It'll save money on petrol too!
October 1980
To H.B.
We all drove old cars in the 1980s and this verse is dedicated to a friend
who regularly had problems starting his car.
