Back when I knew what I don’t know now
A four barrel carb could practically rebuild itself,
instructions followed, and such.
Drop a tranny and replace it, all in one morning,
because the pocketbook demands it.
Doing something once doesn’t mean
I know how to do it. But I did it.
Just like sliding headfirst down the road beside my motorcycle
didn’t foster a desire to try doing it again.
Then there’s breaking a leg. Wouldn’t want to do that again,
but the next time probably would be easier.
What was that poem I wrote yesterday?
Lines blur between here and there, then and now.
Are the brain cells holding those lessons, those memories,
dead and gone, or are they just waiting to haunt me in dementia?
Image source: hotrod.com
rivrvlogr 
They always haunt me
They wait for no time
Just the here and now
As always sheldon
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Among other things, I suffer from MDD (Memory Deficit Disorder). They’re in there somewhere, squirreled away in some vault, waiting to pop out when they’re least needed.
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I feel you my friend
Stay thirsty
As always Sheldon
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I like to think they’re there and ready to pop out in a poem.
I have no idea how to do anything with cars and engines. Carbs means something else entirely to me (as does tranny). 😉
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lol
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I remember when you could lift the head of your motor and regrind the valves and be hooning around all Sunday afternoon. Now I don’t even know where I left my spanners.
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Nowadays you need a shop to lift your engine to change the spark plugs.
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