An f-body Christmas

**Blk00ws6** · 12-09-2007, 03:07 PM

Written by one of my friends on a local f-body board.

-‘Twas An F-Body Christmas-
by Lee Fogel

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the shop
Not a wrench was turning, not even the laptop;
The tools were stacked in the tool box with care,
In hopes that St. Settlemire would soon be there;

The F-Bodys were parked all neatly in a row,
Each with a trophy from that day’s show;
With my WS6 under its’ cover and the Firehawk freshly shined,
Had just been parked next to one another in kind
When out in the street there arose such a noise,
I sprang from the bed to check on my toys.

Away to the shop I ran like The Flash,
Turning off the alarm and unlocking the clasp.
The moonlight on the trophies from that day’s show
Gave the luster of mid-day to the F-Bodys below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Buccaneer Red Super Duty, and eight Camaros in gear,
With a crafty old driver, not for hire,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Settlemire.

More rapid than Mustangs his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Yenko! Now, Berger! Now, Nickey and Motion!
On, RS! On, SS! On, Z/28 and Anniversary Edition!
To the starting line! To the “tree” we go!
Now spray away! Spray away! Spray away with N2O!“

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, dump the clutch and go by
So up the street the coursers flew,
With the Super Duty full of toys, and St. Settlemire too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard down the street
The squeals and chirps of tires afleet.
As I drew my hand, and was turning around,
Down the road St. Settlemire came with a bound.

He was dressed in driving gear, with a Cincy Speed t-shirt
And his clothes were all tarnished with grease and dirt;
A bundle of parts he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they shone! His grin how merry!
His teeth white as snow, his laughter how it carried!
His gloved hands were clinging to his bag,
With a Summit ball cap doubling as a rag;
On his head I saw burnt rubber there,
As the smoke from his burnout hung in the air;

He had a broad face and a receding hairline,
That looked windswept from racin’ on the redline.
He was of good humor, a right jolly old elf,
And I cheered when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of the key,
Soon gave me to know he was here for me;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Tuning my cars smooth; then turned with a jerk
And grabbing the Hurst shifter with a firm hand,
He revved the 455 all through the power band;
The clutch he dumped, to his team gave a shout,
And away they raced like all get out.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all race ‘em right!”

**Bearcat** · 12-09-2007, 03:15 PM

That was good.

I allready had the Christmas spirit but that put me over the top.

**third_shift|studios** · 12-09-2007, 03:22 PM

lmao..LEE! I knew that guy, made him an emblem too. Raced his wife and blew her throttle cable apart LMAO

**Blk00ws6** · 12-09-2007, 03:36 PM

huh! I didn't know you made him an emblem! His wife is good at destroying LT4 Clutches too

**third_shift|studios** · 12-09-2007, 03:39 PM

yup. i think he sold the car [red 3rd gen t/a w a police LT1] before he put the emblem on it. They were good people-the only people who i could really stand from NKYFBgAy