Rusty Truck

My dad has an old beater of a truck, everyone needs a farm truck in rural America.  That is exactly what it is, rusted out, falling apart, and my boys favorite part of visiting grandma and grandpa's house.  It doesn't take long before they are begging for a ride.  One time they had the little vent windows open and drove through a huge mud puddle.  They came home with mud on their faces, and big smiles too. 

So in honor of the famous rides in Grandpa's truck, I wrote them a poem, fittingly titled "Rusty Truck".

My grandpa has a rusty truck
And that's just what we call it,

Whenever we go visit it
we have to ride inside it.

We drive down all the bumpy roads
And stir up all the gravel,

It doesn't matter where we go
We simply want to travel.

Its always an adventure when
We crawl into the seat,

We never know quiet where we'll go
Or who we'll stop to meet.

I love my grandpa and his truck
Some day it will be gone,

But until that day I'll rid with him
And pray they both run strong.

By: Sarah McCarthy
Date: 9-19-2010