A Poem

AUGUST EPISODE ~ by John B. Giesbrecht
Established in 1961, Prior to the trip to Kennedy Meadows

On a sunny summer day
‘Twas then we traveled away
Through Sonora vacationlands gate
Up to Tuolumne’s 108

On to the place that won’t bore us,
In Stanislaus National Forrest
With spirits higher’n elevation, we said:
Hell: This is Vacation!

We loaded our rear, then threw in gear
And roared off toward Destination
My bombs spitin Fire,
Bumps hit every tire,
But soon, over smooth roads we’ll go.

Six-gun by my side, enjoying the ride
And playing the radio
Got to catch Jim, He’s not far ahead
Can see by the turds along the roadbed.

We’ll stop in LaGrange to water our thurst,
For the next few miles it’s best I go first.
I’ll do as I please, Might go through Chinese
And wait by the road for Jim and his load.

Here’s the one-twenty, the stretch we can fly
Just watch for a Cop, to pass the time by.
Now on a down grade, something whizzed by-
A hot rod dare devil that’s dome on the fly.

From traffic behind, a bull dodged in line
He’s sneaking up fast,
and might slow the domes ass.

Sonora’s gone by, we start climbing high.
With rocks and pine trees, a fresh mountain breeze
A good place to be, among scenery.

With trees that demand speculation,
With rocks in every formation-
This is my idea of vacation.

And I don’t give a damn,
For people who’ll scram,
Uncared for conservation.

We’re on our way,
A thought for today,
Make the most of it, Man,
Have fun while you can
‘Cause after it’s over, and you’re coming home
You get a sad feeling, unless you’re like Dome.

We’ve passed the last town
And sun’s sinking low
But why should we care
‘Cause we’re on the Go!

When sundown is near, in my pack I’ll peer
And pull out a can of cool western BEER.

Turnout ahead- I’ll stop for a rest
Give things a check
Then on to Pinecrest.
Motor a fire- we’re off once again
With air getting cool and dusk setting in.

As sun is sinking toward the far west
I’m thinking of things I like the best.
Flying along, I’m singing a song
The radio’s quit- but who gives a shit!

Stars are out now, and moons on it’s rise
Ridges lay outlined, Against clear blue skies.
From over a meadow- across Pinetrees high
Swoops an owl, on his nightly fly.

Roads getting smaller, we’re almost there.
With moonlight through Pine trees.
Adventure in air.
The time has arrived, ahead lights tell me,
We’re here once again.

The Place? Kennedy!!!!