Twas the night before Christmas - A Tribute to Rotary
12-21-05, 10:01 AM
#1
Twas the night before Christmas - A Tribute to Rotary
Tell me what you guys think? I used a version from the Miata Club as a base and changed things here and there to suit us. The names of people involved were suggested as they are associated with rotary in some fashion.
Twas the night before race day and all through the shop,
not an engine was running, not even a pop.
The awning was folded and packed up with care
in the hope that the weather was nice, warm and fair.
The 7's were strapped to their trailer tilt-beds,
with visions of 3-Rotors floating into our heads.
I in my nomex, and ma in her long sleeve cotton white tee,
had just laid out the route for the tow the next day.
When out on the road there arose such a whine,
I sprang from my workbench to see what was in line.
Away to the driveway I flew like a rocket,
knocking over my toolbox, and dropping a socket.
The speeding headlights yon, hither and near,
lit up the roadsigns like a startled deer.
when, what to my blinking eyes should appear,
but a rotary powered sports car, the sound crisp and clear.
With a wild eyed driver, string-backs on his hand,
I knew in a second, it was Pat Bedard--the car and driver man.
As he double-clutched, shifted and revved to redline
he waved with his headlights and called us by name:
"Hail Rx-7 Club Members, and friends far and near
I wish you good tidings, and deep xmas cheer.
May your 7's be revving, the spare stay in the boot,
and your sticky street tires never stray from the route."
As dry leaves before dual exhaust tips do fly,
he quick turned the corner at a speed oh so high,
up to the workshop the course did he drive
a new RX-8 model, with Sylvain Tremblay had arrived.
And then in an instant I knew the whole truth,
the new model was similar, nay still a youth.
Its lines were still sculpted with increable flair
and popup or flush, the headlights are still there.
The stump of a shifter still stifts with great speed,
the tach wraps to 9000 RPM, so much more than you'd need.
The guages are quaint with a historic round face,
and a suspension unmatched and equipped for a race.
A project long planned by enthused engineers,
the design wins folks over, even those prone to sneer.
The engine still sweet, Side exhaust ports are had,
works fine in stock form or improve it a tad.
Trembley spoke not a word, neither english nor japanese,
and he rolled from the car pressing both hands on his knees.
A slight of the hand and the jingle of key,
as it and the title were handed to me.
I hopped into the seat, and buckled right in,
knowing he'd ride too as I took it for a spin.
With that rotary whine soon in tow,
Didnt take long for my heart to go.
With a squeal and chirp of the tire so dear
I sped off into the night, wishing all a Great year.
Merry Christmas Everyone. May rotary parts fill the space under your tree, or hood.
Twas the night before race day and all through the shop,
not an engine was running, not even a pop.
The awning was folded and packed up with care
in the hope that the weather was nice, warm and fair.
The 7's were strapped to their trailer tilt-beds,
with visions of 3-Rotors floating into our heads.
I in my nomex, and ma in her long sleeve cotton white tee,
had just laid out the route for the tow the next day.
When out on the road there arose such a whine,
I sprang from my workbench to see what was in line.
Away to the driveway I flew like a rocket,
knocking over my toolbox, and dropping a socket.
The speeding headlights yon, hither and near,
lit up the roadsigns like a startled deer.
when, what to my blinking eyes should appear,
but a rotary powered sports car, the sound crisp and clear.
With a wild eyed driver, string-backs on his hand,
I knew in a second, it was Pat Bedard--the car and driver man.
As he double-clutched, shifted and revved to redline
he waved with his headlights and called us by name:
"Hail Rx-7 Club Members, and friends far and near
I wish you good tidings, and deep xmas cheer.
May your 7's be revving, the spare stay in the boot,
and your sticky street tires never stray from the route."
As dry leaves before dual exhaust tips do fly,
he quick turned the corner at a speed oh so high,
up to the workshop the course did he drive
a new RX-8 model, with Sylvain Tremblay had arrived.
And then in an instant I knew the whole truth,
the new model was similar, nay still a youth.
Its lines were still sculpted with increable flair
and popup or flush, the headlights are still there.
The stump of a shifter still stifts with great speed,
the tach wraps to 9000 RPM, so much more than you'd need.
The guages are quaint with a historic round face,
and a suspension unmatched and equipped for a race.
A project long planned by enthused engineers,
the design wins folks over, even those prone to sneer.
The engine still sweet, Side exhaust ports are had,
works fine in stock form or improve it a tad.
Trembley spoke not a word, neither english nor japanese,
and he rolled from the car pressing both hands on his knees.
A slight of the hand and the jingle of key,
as it and the title were handed to me.
I hopped into the seat, and buckled right in,
knowing he'd ride too as I took it for a spin.
With that rotary whine soon in tow,
Didnt take long for my heart to go.
With a squeal and chirp of the tire so dear
I sped off into the night, wishing all a Great year.
Merry Christmas Everyone. May rotary parts fill the space under your tree, or hood.
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