Third hand, here’s what I know, or, as Dad whom had it explained to him explained it to me over the phone as mostly understood, as follows, might be…
Ode to a little red Sunfire — and her driver (of course).
‘Twas a few days before Christmas, and out on the farm,
Ma’s Hutterite pupils, (no need to alarm!)
Were singing some concert that I (regrettably) missed.
Though not so lucky, pops and dear little sis.
Now, dear little sis, driving ma’s little red car,
Snuck out a bit early to work at some bar.
The roads were not icy, they barely had snow,
(Perhaps that is why, they had decided to tow.)
Sis rounded the corner, came over some bend,
And sped past some cattle, (lowing?) and then…
Oh, what to her wandering eyes should appear,
But a big flaming tire, and some crumbling gears.
The bits and the pieces were bouncing quite fast,
Velocities gouging as they tumbled past.
Sis swerved and she braked and avoided the tire,
A big three foot beast, flaming, on fire.
It seemed, they would learn, that the chunks of some tool,
Had crumbled to bits on the road, (that’s not cool!)
Equipment, is strong if used without fault,
But doesn’t last long when dragged on asphalt.
Oh, dear little sis, stopped ‘long the side of the road,
Looking back at the mess of someone’s lost load.
She (apparently, now) went to see if she’d aid,
(All that medical training may finally have paid?)
Things were mostly ok, but the car, what a mess!
Some flung bits of metal had gouged, well… guess…
Scraped off some paint, and dented the finish,
And ratched up the engine (and saw her oil diminish!)
Not that it’s funny, but just then pops came,
He rounded the corner, probably cursing some name.
Checked over his daughter, checked over the mess,
Pulled out his BlackBerry, and managed his stress.
The cops soon arrived, took over the scene,
(Here details get fuzzy from what I could glean.)
Those boys, the ones towing, oh, they’re in trouble,
If nothing else, their insurance will double.
Yet, things could have been worse, someone had said,
Sis could have been hurt, or, you know, been dead.
Tho they found that ol’ tire, way out in a field.
(Well, rather it there, than in the windshield!)
They summoned a tow truck, and he gave a low whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I’m sure they exclaimed, as they towed out of sight,
“We should call the insurance! Oh, what a night!”