A Ricers Night Before Christmas.
Just a few holiday poems for ya.......
A Ricers Night Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas and caught at the light,
Was a torch red Corvette and no cops in sight.
I will try, I will try, I will try with this small motor,
To beat this Corvette, it ain't got no blower.
As the light goes green and I pull like no joke,
The Corvette erupts in clouds of tire smoke.
Now Smasher, now Rev-ver, now Stroker, now Blitzin,
These are the names of my four VTEC pistons.
Racing ahead I'm the star of the action,
But I know I'm in trouble when the Corvette gets traction.
Grabbing second, I hear the RPM's sing,
My mirror is blocked by my shopping kart wing.
I now hear the roar of the big monster gaining,
All I can do is keeping the four-banger straining.
In a second the shock wave 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 4 tail lights 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 smiled and revved as he pulled out of sight,
With more stickers tomorrow, i'll give him a fight!
'Twas the night for street racing
and allthrough the 'hood
the rice boys were looking
for cars to beat good.
A small herd of Hondas were farting their way
Down to Main Street, sporting coffee cans
bought on Ebay.
The cars were bedecked with bright pink
stripes and words,
Like a neon explosion of vomit and turds.
The cars were so low that each bump made a *clunk*,
The tires looked like rubber bands round a tree trunk.
The engines were whining, they made such a clatter,
Sounding like blender when mixing up batter.
The cars overheated, the drivers got out,
With so much steamed rice, it smelled like
While cooling their motors, they went on
To find lesser rides for their street competition.
Then two dim headlights appeared through the gloom of
As a late '60s Mopar drove into sight.
They laughed at the driver of this sad old timer,
The wheels were steel and the paint was, well, primer!
"You've got to be kidding! You must be a jerk.
Your tailpipes are tiny. Your sidemarkers
The Honda boys laughed at the grim basket case,
When the driver stepped out and said, "You boys want to race?"
He pulled out his wallet and threw down his cash,
"A thousand says my car will win in a dash."
I'll beat any one of the cars in this lot,
So go pick out the fastest one that you've got."
A young blood steps forward in the baggiest of pants,
And threw down his money, "You ain't got a chance!"
As nods were exchanged, there was no turning back,
So the cars headed out to the top of the track.
The Civic pulled up, with its disk brakes a 'squeaking
As the Mopar approached, its transmission leaking.
The drivers were ready, the starter in place.
He dropped his arms quickly to start off the race.
The Honda was revving, it's wheels all a spin,
It shot off the line and made such a din.
The dull looking Mopar just slipped into gear,
The front lifted slightly as it chirped in the rear.
At the 60 foot mark, the Dodge blew a wire,
And the front of it glowed from an under-hood fire.
As the Dodge pulled up level, the ECU broke,
But he still left the rice boy behind in his smoke.
At the end of the run, the Dodge slowed down a bit
But the drums got so hot that they soon too
When the Honda arrived in a blaze of loud farts,
He found the Dodge driver, with his hands full
He'd pulled from the glove box, 'cos he came prepared.
A few broken pieces did not have him scared!
The rice boy was speechless, and out of a grand.
The night had not gone as he'd hoped or he'd planned.
He turned to the winner, his mouth gaping wide,
"What the hell motor do you have inside?!?!??!??"
The Dodge driver shrugged as he opened his door.
"A slant six, though it was just firing on four."