At The Garage.. Poem by krishnakumar chandrasekar nair

How old is this car of yours?
Doctor, its running into the late seventies

The engine is a bit too noisy
Okay, let me have a look at your heart

The silencer is also a bit clogged
Well that's a job for a specialist of ENT

The gearbox oil levels are down and dirty
Yes, your joints seem to creak a lot

The wind shield is always fogged and scratched
Well, your cataracts seem to be beyond repair

The paint is jaded and the crash guard a little bent
Wrinkled skin is okay mate and walk carefully

Doctor, tell me how long with these bald tires?
Ha! , keep them going old pal till the fuel runs out

Well, You haven't reached scrap value as yet
Just drive slow, keep to the left lane always
Find quiet roads with less noisy traffic
And when you feel the engine splutter
Park it gently on some inner side road
Somebody will find it for sure and report
And perhaps, a proper cremation will follow........


(note - ENT means ear/nose/throat specialist)