Wilsons Sandbox

Thanks Terry for sharing the Charnock poem. The NEMGTR used to have them regularly in the TSO many years ago. To this day I pretty much remember a couple of lines from one of the poems that caught my attention then (late sixties or early seventies). I've no idea the title of the poem but the lines went something like this: "Oh we busted a propshaft on Bodmin Moor, and it hollered 'go find me an open door'; then it bashed a bloody big hole in the floor, for Hardy and Spicer to follow." My humblest apologies to W.H. Charnock's memory if I misquoted his poem. Wouldn't it be grand if someone were to reprint his book, "The Collected Verses of W. H. Charnock". I know that I would get in line for a copy or two. He also did a poem that dealt with a young couple who had to sell their vintage automobile to afford the baby that was coming. It was sad and yet prophetic, I sold a TD once to make room for the family. If I remember correctly, they (the young couple) kept the mascot from their old car as a keepsake. What a terrific poem about how some of us get attached to these vehicles. I remember that the poem brought tears to my eyes when I read it then and would no doubt have a similar effect today. Bob McClaren

Thanks Terry for sharing the Charnock poem. The NEMGTR used to have them regularly in the TSO many years ago. Yes, TSO did share many of Charnocks poems. To this day I pretty much remember a couple of lines from one of the poems that caught my attention then (late sixties or early seventies). I've no idea the title of the poem but the lines went something like this: "Oh we busted a propshaft on Bodmin Moor, and it hollered 'go find me an open door'; then it bashed a bloody big hole in the floor, for Hardy and Spicer to follow." Sorry, Can't find these lines quickly in my copy of "Collected Motor Verses". My humblest apologies to W.H. Charnock's memory if I misquoted his poem. Wouldn't it be grand if someone were to reprint his book, "The Collected Verses of W. H. Charnock". I know that I would get in line for a copy or two. Ron Embling, Britbooks, had a copy for sale at Lime Rock this year. He also did a poem that dealt with a young couple who had to sell their vintage automobile to afford the baby that was coming. It was sad and yet prophetic, I sold a TD once to make room for the family. If I remember correctly, they (the young couple) kept the mascot from their old car as a keepsake. What a terrific poem about how some of us get attached to these vehicles. I remember that the poem brought tears to my eyes when I read it then and would no doubt have a similar effect today. Ah, that would be "Ichabod", page 64, one of my favourites, and it goes like this: At last the filthy thing is done, So by the fire we sit And talk about our future plans, And never speak of It. There's a baby in the Carry-cot, Another on the stocks, There are bills upon the mantelpiece And me upon the rocks. So now we shall not share with her The roads of home again; He is coming to collect her On the early morning train. The ally of her engine glows, Her paintwork shines a mile; When from these loving hands she goes, By God, she goes in style. I've left the One-make badge in place, He says he'll join the Club, But I rather hope he doesn't Lest we meet him in our pub. Maybe we're sentimental fools But too much pain we'd feel To see that pair of clueless hands On our familiar wheel. I've taken off the foglamp And hidden it away, To grace another classic front Another distant day. But it won't mean a lot by then How prosperous we are, For it's not by spending money That you get to love a car. Next week we'll have recovered From this small domestic stir, But to-night beside the fire we sit And do not speak of Her. Bob Grunau And I did shed a tear or two just 2 finger typing this poem.