The 50 Plus Cafe, Pub, All-Nite Greasy Spoon and Dive Bar

Oh, I did find an anvil engines - the old Really Big One - for sale in MI. The price is great. I don't have the time to go to rescue it. The landlady offered to take the old truck and go get it. She hates driving a trailer, but it'll fit in the back of the old truck even with its short bed.


The old guy called back last night. I'll put them in touch.
 
Happy Sunday, Usual Suspects.


I suppose that we have rounded ourselves up this morning . . . .



Straight Eight



Old engine sitting there,
I call you anvil
For that’s the era of technology
That you left behind
Barely
As you evolved
Over-engineered in every way
Except the course that Evolution took
Cro-Magnon killing off Neanderthals
Overbuilt, which is why you’re still here
Depression-era relic
A survivor from
The dim and musty past.
From when my grandfather
Was a young man
You two, virile at the same time
And very relevant.
The world was yours.
Your makers powered machines
Of the last Great War
And he went to subdue the enemies
Of Civilization.
He’s gone, and you’re here.
Having sat idle for 50 years
Stashed in a barn
A part of a project
A dream of a younger man
Now grown too old to pursue it
Past Dream Stage.
The seller floated
A Trial Balloon
To gauge interest.
Will some have you, or are
You fated to be junked?
Hell, I have several of these things
Projects for when Life slows a bit.
I’ll come to get you.
Salvage? Maybe Rescue
Yeah, that’s more like it.
Preservation . . . .
You were to have been
A Street Machine power plant.
I won’t make you that promise
But I will keep you from the scrap metal man
If only to delay
Your conversion into

Half a dozen electric “cars.”
 
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