A surprise visit from Santa brings with it an extraordinary gift of 11 classic cars from the 1960s
‘Twas two nights before Christmas when all through my garage
Not a creature was stirring. Wait! Is that a mirage?
My tools aren’t always hung with the greatest of care,
But no one would visit this night, so why should I care?
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of classic cars dance through my head.
Our new Toyota to drive is really quite a charm,
But deep down, for a classic car I’d give my right arm.
When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
I swung up the garage door to see what was the matter.
Right out there on my driveway, much to my surprise,
A semi-truck was backing in; I couldn’t believe my eyes!
Behind the wheel a bearded old man in red, who was very big.
And his two-level car transporter was quite the rig!
There were five cars on the bottom, and six more on the top.
As I walked over to the cab, the truck came to a stop.
I looked closely at the old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment that he was really Saint Nick!
He finally put on the brakes and gathered up things in the cab,
While I looked at his load and saw exactly the kind of cars that he had.
No Dasher, but a Vette! No Lancer, but a Mustang!
No Comet, but a Cobra! A Cougar! And a Trans-Am!
A Superbird! A Super Bee! And a GTO!
A Javelin! A Charger! And a Chevy Camaro!
Eleven cars from the ’60s when I was a kiddie,
Seeing them all here right now made me really quite giddy!
I couldn’t believe them when I saw them under the street light.
Not one had a flaw, each one was perfect, just like this night.
He shut off the truck; it no longer made a sound.
Then down off the rig St. Nick jumped with a bound.
He then pulled out his iPad, typed in some words and mused:
“I have to admit that sometimes I get things confused.”
I’m no longer a kid, but that didn’t matter,
The big guy in the red suit continued his patter:
“I know you liked all kinds of toy cars when you were a kid,
And I always try to give you one – but once that’s not what I did.”
“Remember that year you got a baseball glove and a bat?
There was a mix-up – and, well, I’m sorry about that.”
I was speechless for a moment and may have seemed aloof.
But what can you say when Santa tells you that he goofed?
I had forgotten this, because it was so long ago,
But this guy’s memory, it seemed, just wouldn’t let go.
“So what I thought, is to finally set things right,
But I’m busy tomorrow, so I’m dropping them off tonight.”
He had each car licensed and had paid the insurance fees.
His eyes twinkled as he handed me a big ring of keys.
From the 1960s, eleven of the greatest cars,
All gifts to me from Santa; I had to thank my lucky stars.
He kept explaining things as he climbed back in his truck:
“How Santa operates is the reason for your good luck.
I try to give kids what they want; I’m glad you could wait.
It’s just that sometimes, even Santa is decades late!”
I still could hardly believe this was my new fleet.
I couldn’t recall a Christmas ever this sweet.
He rolled down his window and yelled as he drove out of sight:
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
Dale Johnson is an award-winning author, broadcaster and journalist who has worked in TV, radio, print and online. While the manufacturer provided Dale with a vehicle to test drive, the content of this review was not reviewed or accepted by the manufacturer.
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