ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

The Windscreen Cleaner

As I drove down the street last night
I came across a traffic light.
The traffic had banked up ahead
Because the light had turned to red.
A fellow sprinted up to me
Grinning slightly crazily,
Then asked me, like some ghoulish fiend,
If I would like my windscreen cleaned.
Foolishly, I said I would.
He made his promise to the good,
But then, despite my shout “Enough!”,
He started lots of other stuff.
In seconds of frenetic toil
He pumped my tyres, changed my oil,
Checked my fuel, and water too.
(His nimble fingers fairly flew!)
Then, most savage of attacks,
He propped my car up high on jacks!
He shouted through his flashing teeth,
“Just quickly checking underneath!”
I replied, “I know you’re keen,
But soon this light will turn to green!”
Sure enough, it did just that.
I didn’t like where I was at
And so, to save a sagging day,
I hailed a taxi right away!
And thus to work, then home once more,
Taxis took me, door to door.
My car? I know. I am a dill.
I guess he’s working on it still.

© Stephen Whiteside 22.05.2016

One for the " KIDZ" .

But kids don't drive, Neville. Don't tell me, I've done it again - written a poem for which there is no audience!

I didn't mean, no audience.
In the rhythm and style, I thought I heard an echo of C.J. Dennis Book for Kids. e.g. The Traveller, et al. Just a thought, others probably hear it differently.

I think that for just about all of us, our lives are ruled by the motor car and kids from the earliest age surely relate to driving cars ( don't you think). There's toy ride things in our local shopping mall where kids can pretend to drive cars and helicopters. Kids love 'em. ( after parents feed the thing with money )

True enough. Thanks, Neville.

Many a time I have fallen victim to those armed with bucket and squeegee at traffic lights, but never one as thorough as in this poem

It did take me back to days when service stations were truly service stations, and attendants would cheerfully give the car a once over while pumping petrol. Days that are alas long gone

Beautifully descriptive Stephen and entertaining.
Wazza

Thanks, Wazza.

Good poem Stephen! I am told than in parts of South Africa if you stop at red lights people rush out jack up your car and steal the wheels. You got off lightly!
Many long years ago my wife and I used to run an all night service station and cab wash. Every car that came in to be filled up by us had its tyres checked, its windscreen cleaned and the oil checked. No kidding. My wife and I used to wash a cab inside and out, dry it and paint the tyres in eight minutes for the princely sum of eighty cents. On an average night we used to wash up to twenty five cabs. The good old days.

Really enjoyed this too Stephen. Reminded me of Manila where we were accosted every single time we stopped, whether it be for window cleaning or someone selling things! But as for service stations, it's always a treat when I go for petrol when visiting the folks in NZ as some stations over there still do everything for you like this and it's brilliant!