Let’s smile again at days gone by when wheels had wooden spokes,
When two bits bought a picture show and ten cents bought two cokes;
Those days when roads were either made of dust or seas of mud,
And cars were fueled with gasoline but ran on sweat and blood.
Remember Sundays, just for show, you’d crank her up and let her go.
You’d crank and crank, and when she’d start,
You’d get that flutter in your heart, and all the world was at your feet.
The drivers held each other dear, each a fellow pioneer,
And subscriber to the creed, just keep her running; don’t fret the speed.
Over the log, across the stream, all the way, the driver’s dream;
There was no challenge too extreme!
When the old gal got too hot, pull her off in a shady spot,
And luncheon on the running board, where all the family’s truck was stored,
And then be off again. From each home the people waved,
And if by chance you needed aid,
They were more than glad to help, and get her started up the grade.
Then with the wind upon your face, your toothy grin showed wide.
You’d check your spark and throttle, cruising down the other side.
The queen of all that she surveys, many stops but few delays,
If some repair is needed quick, some old haywire will do the trick.
The only stop that she requires, an occasional patch to those big balloon tires.
Now when your modern gas hog has got you feeling blue,
And she’s in the shop for thirty days, there’s one thing you can do:
Let’s smile again at days gone by, when wheels had wooden spokes,
When two bits bought a picture show and ten cents bought two cokes.