Home At Last
It was way in the
middle of the night,
Traveling in high gear, no brakes,
Freezing, down to 10 degree in Atlanta,
Traffic lights ahead no mistake.
We make it though the green, orange traffic
Going through the red was even tight,
Can you ever imagine such a thing now?
Even in the middle of the night.
Got to the Huddle House at Peachtree Creek,
Stopping the car was our desire,
Had to made a call home to let them know,
We were ready for a warm fire.
Got ready to leave, you could not guess what!
We had a flat tire, so change it.
No way were those lugs going to come off,
Everyone tried but to tight a fit.
We were stuck again forty miles from home,
Sent the clan home in a taxi,
Did I tell you we had a dog with us?
S.Y. stayed with the dog and the stuff.
Clan got home, dadís son needed to be there,
Shortly dad came in with his son,
We all got warmed and something to eat
That night was like a hit and run.
Awoke the next morning bright and early,
The first thing we saw was enough,
Studebaker pulling into the yard
With machinery and all our stuff.
Oh! We were turning the lugs the wrong way.
We never cranked the car again.
But sold it to an Uncle, said he found
A good use for our old friend.
Even with all the trouble we went through
In crossing the country three times,
We encountered many wonderful souls,
Who helped us without a dime.
It helped us to strengthen our faith,
In the God that watched over us,
And the many stories we could pass along,
For future generations to discuss.