A trip down automotive Memory Lane, recalling the time the Ford Explorer exploded onto the scene.

Breaking Down The Expense.

(Part three of the misguided and maligned The Flawed Concept trilogy.)

My brother bought hisself a brand new four x four,
A big fat-ass fossil fuel driven automotive dinosaur,
He'd avoided Fords for years but now, faith restored
Dave was ready to Explore all options offered by Ford.

Tall as a schoolbus, wide as a truck, black as night,
This high riding heavyweight was a fearsome sight,
All black upholstery, windows tinted so deeply dark
This mega-sized Mothership was some bitch to park.

Thank God he'd just moved out of Los Angeles,
Moved on from Santa Monica's summer breeze,
A black car do look good tooling down the street
But it do attract the cops attention, and the Heat.

But 'twas time for a new job and a bright new start
So Dave lit out of LA with heavy foot and light heart;
And he put the sun behind him and hot-footed it East
But mile by mile, by slow degrees his unease increased.

Driving into Phoenix it came as Surprise Surprise!
Picking a black truck up as a first move was not wise,
LA to Phoenix is right out of the frying pan into the fire
And stuck within a black box he didn't desire or require.

Now his fu fickle Ford didn't help his disposition
By being selective with its defective transmission,
Dave waved Fords tragic wand in hopes to hit First,
On some Select times, contrarily, he found it Reversed.

Hearing rumblings from where the rubber meets the road 
Dave found his f Firestone treads all ready and set to explode,
Soon at his local Ford front office Dave became a familiar face;
Out back Jesús soon gave Dave his Permanently Reserved space.

As the 'winter' days shortened and his warranty ran short
The cost of upkeeping his ol' hoss caused pause for thought,
His never-trusty Black Beauty was becoming a broken hack
Only fit for sitting up on cinder-blocks in the paddock out back.

'Twas on midwinters day, down to a chilly 80 degrees,
The sun burning his eyes, slanting through the Olive trees,
As the speedo clicked over 60,000 miles Dave gave a groan,
Driving out of his limited warranty and into the Twilight Zone.

Soon came the day his Exploder's air-con turned to steam,
This was one miracle fu fix beyond even Jesús and his team,
So, like Ford's lousy warranty, we'll cut short Dave's sorry tale-
Out back went the boiling Ford, part garage project, part fire sale.

‘Exploring a better Ford option than the current ones?’




©Obbverse

6 thoughts on “A trip down automotive Memory Lane, recalling the time the Ford Explorer exploded onto the scene.

  1. not had a lot of luck with Fords have you guys? I only owned one – an old Torino in the 80s – which ran badly, but no worse than the equally old GMs I sandwiched it with . Back in my youth they had a rep for rusting out worse than anything else. That’s not a big problem anymore with most of the bodies being made of heavy duty saran wrap it would seem.
    First bit of your poem made me think of a spoof Simpsons commercial … https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PI_Jl5WFQkA

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    1. So, dang, Dave- my brother, your namesake- he missed out on the Canyonaro. It seems right up- or down there- with the snot green car-tastrophe from ‘National Lampoons Vacation.’ I’d not seen the Simpson clips but they are right on; Big, brash, one takes up two car parks, helmed by some tattooed monobrowed shades and camo-wearing roided dude ‘endowed’ with half a- well, lets be nice and say ‘half a brain.’
      I must admit I despaired when they put road legal Hummers on sale. This poem/piece of doggerel is far more fact than fabrication though, as brother Dave can ruefully attest.

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  2. Perhaps it’s just my practical nature (although it is a bit of a stretch to say that about me), but I don’t understand folks who choose style over functionality when it comes to a vehicle, something one has to use every day. Here in Texas, where it is boiling-hot much of the year, I don’t grasp why anyone would want leather seats. Sure, they look sleek and fancy. But when the interior of the car is 120 degrees F? I’d rather plunk my butt on warm cloth rather than blazing leather. And then there’s the ass-sweat factor, an image and reality that none of us want to contemplate or experience…

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    1. It was definitely an impractical colour… in the dusty desert byways the baked black paint rarely looked cool, and once the transmission started playing up it was a slow road to ruin. The black upholstery was a tad much. And yes, hopping in the front seats after the Exploder had it had spent a day being irradiated in the Ralphs car park? Wearing short shorts was not recommended. Jeez, I learned that the hard way on my last visit. You guys in the southwest and dipping down to Lone Star territory need that air-con up and running. No-one likes their ass cheeks being poached and basted in ones own juices.

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    1. My daughters father-in-law had a restored white one until a couple of years back. Yes, it did look mock-Tudor, especially in white.
      I understand your wife’s hesitation; the Beach Boys could sing about having a woody and Surf City but it doesn’t translate well with exotic locales like Weston-super-Mare or Skegness somehow.
      PS. I managed to spin a Minor on a wet drainage grill on a thirty MPH s-bend. An unintentional 180 any stunt driver would be proud of. Sadly, in front of my girlfriend then, now wife. She must have had a forgiving nature for foolishly bad drivers.

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