CHAPTER EIGHT Road Calls  Go To Main Table  Go To More Book Chapters

Spring Ride

                By George J. Kimble


The sky is a pastel blue green

The drivers are all in their machines

Then comes the call

Let’s get going ya’ll

We’re headed for places unseen


Everyone’s face is covered with smiles                                     

Onto the street the Caravan files

Glad it didn’t rain

Traffic is a pain

We go slow for the first couple of miles


Finally the last city traffic is passed

A single file is formed by the Corvettes at last

We’re all out of town

The tops are all down

Now is the time to go fast


The scenery is so bucolic

In green pastures animals frolic

The farms are all splendid

The fences are all mended

True essence of life symbolic


Notice all the trees are in bloom

Along the winding road the Corvettes zoom

Up over ridges

Across little bridges

The country air smells better than perfume


Mother Nature has done her thing

Blessed us with warm breezes of Spring

Oh, so story book

Wash the horse in the brook

On the road your Corvette is the King


The destination is a Hot Rod show

Those Hot Rods are awesome you know

The winds in our hair

We haven’t a care

We’re just glad we are able to go


Our journey ends, and it’s irrelevant where

What matters is, your friends were all there

All bursting with pride

It was a beautiful ride

This Corvette experience we shared


                By George J. Kimble


                                It’s eight AM and the Corvette is all shined

He’s been talking about this trip for a long time

The luggage is packed and stuffed inside

The weather doesn’t matter; he’s taking a Corvette ride


He hustles, hoping that he hasn’t forgotten anything

He can’t wait to hear those Gator Backs sing

He runs to the garage and hops into the machine

He is in a hurry to do his favorite thing


In the Corvette, he adjust the mirrors and the seat

It’s forty miles to breakfast and he likes to eat

He pulls out of the drive and heads out east

The first stop is Lebanon where everyone will meet


He wishes the darn rain would just stop

He likes to drive the Corvette without the top

He hums soft and low as he tunes in the Corvette’s radio

At the restaurant he spies a herd of  Corvettes ready to go


Breakfast is good. It hits the spot

The eggs are just right and the coffee is hot

The usual suspects are all gathered there

One of the women is worried about the rain and her hair


He was so busy wolfing it down, He didn’t ask about the route

Then some one hollered, “We’re ready, It’s time to pull out”

He eats one last biscuit and leaves a tip

He is really excited about making this trip


He is ecstatic, he feels mighty fine

Surveying Corvettes all in a line

He doesn’t want to get lost so he pulls in behind

On the highway the Corvettes are blowing everyone’s mind


He likes to drive his Corvette faster than most

The caravan is rolling at the speed the state does post

So he kicks it down and the power starts flowing

Then he remembers he doesn’t know where he is going


He takes the first off ramp and at the end he waits

Smiling and giggling he thinks boy this is great

Back up the on ramp he makes a quick dash

Just as the caravan starts to come past


He passes them all and laughs like a fool

Speeding and ramping he thinks this is cool

Near Cookeville the caravan stops for necessities and gas

A younger member wants to ride with him and ask


His Mom is concerned, but relents alas

Tell him, ”Drive slowly”, they both nod and laugh

Back onto the road the two of them jet

Now this is the way to enjoy a Corvette


After awhile they stop at a rest station

Waiting for the caravan they are very impatient

The caravan comes and they exclaim, “It’s about time!”

The very next exit the Corvettes pull off in a line


The leader it seems was a little confused

When he passed the exit he thought there was two

Now the leaderless posse of shiny Corvettes

Starts off following the fool who hasn’t a clue yet


Now, “you know who”, is leading this group

They just didn’t know he escaped from F-Troop

He doesn’t know where they are going or how they‘ll arrive

He is just out enjoying a good morning drive


He muses to his partner, “Boy this is great”

“I don’t know where to turn, so I’ll just go straight”

He pulls over again and again

But the caravan follows him like chicks and a hen


Assuming they are on the right track

Tucked in behind the Corvette that is black

He wanders aimlessly like a lost pup

Hoping and praying the leaders will catch up


Luckily the true leaders find the lost pack

And finally put the caravan back on the right track

Now they arrive in Walland without any harm

To find a rustic farmhouse with plenty of charm


The sky clears up and everyone is relaxed

Dinner is served and ribs and beans are attacked

Then all good friends, the best kind of folks

Set on the porch and tell their best jokes


Now, in the future, if you should decide

To go with this bunch on a Corvette ride

Don’t worry if it is rainy or the brightest of Sun

Just remember in a Corvette it’s the driving that is fun


Ed. note: You had to be there.

The Sky Is No Limit

                By George J. Kimble


Shining Fiber glass glistening in the morning Sun

Corvette drivers anticipating another day of fun

In the lot a Carnival sleeps

Onto the highway a caravan creeps


Construction slows the normal traffic

Earth movers are creating  havoc

Winding very slowly along

Listening to the radio’s oldies songs


Take this off ramp the CB squawks

Then there is silence and no one talks

As we pull into a field neatly cut and wide

We are hoping for a different kind of ride


We circle the Vettes into a shady nook

And leap out quick to take a look

We are greeted like a sortie coming back

From some brave mission or dangerous attack


As we enter this unusual scene

I smell the aroma of fresh baked beans

There is Bar-B-Q, corn bread and cold slaw too

A mighty fine meal to feed our crew


There are many aircraft circling and touching down

Some are colored brighter than the suit of a clown

Thundering in like eagles of prey

Wing tips tilt and gently sway


In the distance an eerie sound

A glint of light reveals a helicopter is coming down

Across this field the aircraft are strewn

And rest upon Terra this day in June


The Corvette pilots feast and delight

They drink up the sounds and the sights

They stare at huge Russian sky freighters

And ultra-lights and single-seaters


Aircraft of every use and intention

Fighters, BI-wings, and crop dusting inventions

They lift, they swoop, and they soar on high

And now the Corvette pilots are invited to come and fly


Defying the force of gravity is not a normal thing

And we fear that mother earth’s pull is mightier than the wing

Coaxed on by our comrades exaltations

One by one the Corvette drivers overcome their trepidations


Now great rumbling from propeller blade

Speeding headlong across the glade

The wind buffets our small craft

Angles our wings and rudder’s draft


A bump, a thump and sensations of fear

A tree line we easily clear

Excitement and wonder flood our mind

We are flying. The ground is left behind


Aloft, we spy other ships, sailing in the sea of clouds

And there is a vastness that knows no crowds

A curved horizon is majestically viewed

And planted fields are verdantly hued


In a Euphoric trance of wonder unbounded

We mock those creatures below so solidly grounded

We ogle a yellow tailed hawk floating past

From his domain we must depart alas


Now, we hurl earthward, with bodies feeling weightless

Approaching touchdown and exhaling totally breathless

As straight as an arrow with feathered crest

We touch softly earth’s sweet breast


Now firmly tethered to the ground

The other Corvette fledglings gather round

We smile and beam with so much excitement

We praise our hosts for providing this enjoyment


While driving home in our Corvettes we ponder

The daring men of Kitty Hawk way back yonder

We now understand their wonderful dreams

Of gossamer wings and flying machines


Often, men dream of flying free as birds

And often they express their mind in words

As we pray before we sleep tonight

We, Thank you, kind host, for the freedom of flight

Smokey Mountain Breakdown

                By George J. Kimble


It was a bright warm October day

The Corvette Caravan was well on it's way

Headed east to the Great Smokey Mountain Range

When the Mako Shark started acting strange


We were rolling in a great long line

When the Mako started falling way behind

I took an off ramp and came right back up

I ran down the Mako as it was passed by a truck


The group was now far out of sight

The driver's face was a picture of fright

I hand gestured, What is the matter

I observed the tires and none were getting flatter


The driver pointed to her car's left rear

Then she pointed to her left ear

I dropped my glass and gave a listen

The song from her side pipes said the 350 wasn't missing


I saw no smoke or fluids trail

As I dropped in behind the Mako's tail

We progressed slowly, but were approaching our goal

I prayed, "Please don't let the Mako's demon take his toll"


We finally arrived at the mountain farm

It was beautiful with rustic charm

In the driveway the others were anticipating

For over an hour they had been waiting


Some of these members were here to go racing

The mechanical types were back and forth pacing

All of a sudden it was like a Nascar pit crew

A flurry of action, each member, knowing just what to do


The problem was a half-shaft on the left rear

When it was removed I heard a great cheer

A discolored u-joint revealed the true culprit

She dialed up some auto stores and one said, "We have it"


A voice said, "Now don't get to excited"

"The half-shaft and u-joint still have to be united"

"A press is needed to install the u-joint on the half-shaft"

The caller said, "But, they have one", and we all laughed

The end of the job was like a walk in the park

Everything was fixed before it became dark

Then the Corvette Club sat down to a Bar-B-Q meal

From this event I learned a great deal


A Corvette caravan isn't like herds that roam the great plain

That abandon the weak, and those that are lame

Yes, Corvette Club members race and compete

But, We never leave a member broken down on the street


                By George J. Kimble


Opportunity, never knocks like some believe

It whispers near the door and quickly leaves

It is a fleeting and swift coincidental convergency

When time, circumstance, and desire unite in urgency


Those who are prepared, daring, and aware

Leap upon this wispy silhouette with flair

They disregard their limiting fear

They apprehend its essence and draw it near


A slight blip upon an electronic screen

A murmur in cyber space, what did it mean?

No time to worry, No time to think

Seize the moment quick as a blink


So it came to pass in that glow of wonder

Corvettes were summoned to the Valley of Thunder

They were called to assist the Titans of racing lore

Who prepared for battle on Thunder Valley’s floor


Legendary heroes would challenged these courses

In chariots of steel harnessed to multitudes of horses

They would soon guide their machines like an arrow

Down the paths of the straight and narrow


When pomp and heraldry were bestowed,

The Corvettes were called to bear the load

Transporting the gladiators before the masses,

The top contenders for each of the Dragster’s classes


The spectators’ screams echo in The Valley

As the feverish crews begin to rally

Sir Cory McClanathan and Sir John Force

Have now taken their post upon the course


Demon Mustang, grotesque in proportion

Defiantly approaches the lights of caution

Abreast of him is the long fuelie rail

Exuding confidence, to never fail


The Earth quakes beneath howling dragons’ claws

Flame and smoke elicits raucous applause

The lamps flash amber, then burst to green

Unleashing the spectacle of man and machine


In less than five ticks on the clock’s face

We witness the conclusion of the race

300 MPH in a quarter of the mile

Provokes our faces to a colossal smile


There was a disturbance in the Force at the end

Sir Cory will live to fight again

The Force was defeated and won’t return

Sir Cory had too much power to burn


Yet to our disbelief and surprise

While the night’s sleep was still in our eyes

We were escorted around the back

And allowed to do hot laps on the high banked track


We were cared for in this mystical place

By a host with a special grace

Our needs were attended to with familial affection

We all, were very pleased, without exception


This experience was so fulfilling

The Corvette drivers again are willing

To take the opportunity of such grand wonder

And return to the Valley of Thunder


Thank you,

We salute you.

May the Gods Of Thunder Bless you every day

Sir Red Whitmore, of Bristol Motor Speedway