Morris Minors

This is a tale

of three Morris Minors,

once upon a time.

Liz had an old green Morris Minor.

It knew the road between Liverpool and Derbyshire 

intimately

and she was generous with her lifts

until the day the breaks failed

completely.

We had just passed the Cat And Fiddle,

right on the tops 

with the long steep decent ahead.

Liz was a good driver.

My Morris Minor was black

with stripes of rust in its wheel arches

and no floor at the back.

Back seat passengers came away 

with wet feet.

Even the patching with beer cans 

made little difference.

It failed the test.

Alan had a white Morris Minor

with a perfect body,

breaks

and floor,

but the gear box was shattered.

The gears didn’t work.

Still no one could steal it.

The three of us put our heads together

and came up with a solution.

We would put the best bits together

to make one car

which we would share.

Liz and Alan were cool mechanics

and I made good coffee to keep them going.

We were pleased with the result,

a beautiful white Morris Minor

with floor,

breaks 

and gears.

But it still failed its test.

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