The Ballad of the Toyota Camry

I was finished my shift at the place where I worked
and was heading for home in my car
a straight stretch of pavement, ’bout half hour long
I was thankful it wasn’t too far
This section of highway was quiet most nights
and I’d be all alone with my thoughts
but a game had just ended not far off the road
so on that night the traffic was lots.
As I travelled north-west at about 100 k*
I was certain cross-traffic would wait
but a gal in a truck didn’t bother to stop
and she didn’t see me til too late
I T-bone her truck with a sickening crunch
and I watched as the hood of my ride
buckled up in an instant that seemed far too long
and I heard the glass break at my side
my tale’s not too tragic, for nobody died
the Reaper was elsewhere that night
so save from some bruises and joints that were sore
you might say things ended all right
I was finished my shift at the place where I worked
and was heading for home, not too far
but a gal in a pickup truck got in my way
the wreck of my very first car.

*100 kilometers per hour, or roughly 60 miles per hour


This poem is a true story, and took place roughly 2 decades ago. A hockey game had just finished at an arena situated just off the highway, and cars were crossing the west-bound lane to head east into the city. Although cross-traffic had a stop sign, it was being largely ignored that evening. I was very thankful when traffic lights were finally put up at that intersection about a year ago.  This is written for dVerse where we are writing folk poetry.  I hope that this fits the bill


14 thoughts on “The Ballad of the Toyota Camry

  1. Just the title of your blog “The Quest for Whirled Peas”……….. makes me smile every time I see it! That should be on a T-Shirt or something! haha 😉

    P.S. Glad you were not seriously hurt in the accident and that they finally put up a traffic light there!

  2. Love the title — and especially the line “the Reaper was elsewhere that night.” Isn’t it interesting to think about our lives and then write an instant into a ballad or a poem of some kind? Putting to paper — an instant that was a shocking sound to you, now permanently inscribed on paper (or computer screen?).

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