The Drop Off Bar
In the drop off bar by a light from a far, You'll find yourself where the fourbyers are, all talkin' 'bout Jeeps they've rolled, the trucks they've sold, the nights they've been cold, and the stories they tell might make you feel old, long as the truth be told.
And amongst this crew who'd climbed a few, they could drive 'em hard, and drive em through, and make you buy a part or two just to up 'em one more. They'd crack in the cold like a manifold, and try to put the truth on hold, and all the while there lies would pile like broke U-bolts on the Palo Duro floor.
They we're kind of loud for a mud slingin' crowd. Texan tough Californian proud, where the easy trail just ain't allowed, and you'd better lock your hubs. They might concede damn yankees succeed, but the bulk they'd say of the 4x4 breed comes from the land of the mud and the weeds, and proudly winches out.
And I learned right quick in their bailywick it didn't even make a lick if you were an International fan. "That's child's play they'd sneer and say, the only rig there is to play is C.J.'s cause that's the way it is in Surprise Canyon.
To slash your tire on a root in the mire, ain't nothin' but hellfire, a good fourbyer just can't abide losin' a tire that way. Drivin' a jeep is an eagle's wing, from prehistoric fourbying, a panther's pulse about to spring, a monster truck ballet.
Like slippery rocks, an engine knock, a Big Foot truck with broken shocks, a rust set of antilocks, a moment caught in time. Suspended there by a Pro Comp pair, with nitrous oxide in the air.Two cowboy's in lawn chairs, watchin' folks winch up a hill.
And I'll make a stand that a good one can drive through a storm of Moab sand with a champagne glass in the shifting hand, and never spill a drop. Cause he's a strain of the old time gang, who'd belt 'em down, grab a hold to the steering wheel, and swing up in two tons of steel, and gas it 'til it stops.
"So how bout you, you rolled a few?" He mean to let me parlez voo and prove for true I'd been there too, whenever the hell broke loose. "I said, "Oh well, I drove a spell." but more than that I did not tell this hard core drop off clientele cause hell, I like GM's.
-TEX-
With help from COT'N'TOP, adapted from Baxter Black's Hell Creek Bar.