I wanted the
win, and I sought it,
I scrabbled
and timed like
a slave
Was it tires
or factor,
I fought it
And drove my
car into a
grave
I wanted the
win, and I
got it,
Came out with
a triumph
last fall
Yet somehow
life's not what
I thought it
And somehow
the win isn't
all
No!
There's the Alcan
(have you run it?)
It's the
cussedest rally
that I know
From the
big dizzy transits
that link it
To the
timed sections that
run in the snow
Gene says
Jerry was tired
when he made it
Jensen says
it's a fine
rally to shun
Maybe, but
there's some
as would trade it
For no
Summer event - and
I'm one
You come
to get zeros (dammed
good reason)
You feel
like a rallyist
at first
You lose
seconds like hell
for no reason
and then
you are worse than
the worst.
It grips
you like some kind
of sinning
It twists
Ken from a foe
to a friend,
It seems
it's been mistimed
from the beginning
And it
seems it will be
to the end
I've drove
on some mighty
steep hairpin
That's
plumb full of ice
to the brim
I've
watched the big driving
lights follow
Then hit
the snowbank so
cold and go dim
Till the
road set the freezing
tires screaming
And the oil
tumbled out,
diff and box
And I've
wished that I surely
was dreaming
With bad
chinese food at
every stop
The rest
halt - no sweeter
was ever
The gas
station pumps and
a meal
The coffee
spilt on the
odo
The drivers
asleep at the
wheel
The
navigator that never
knows wrongslots
The wilds
where the gas
tanks run dry
The
fudging, the factors,
the unfairness
Oh Jerry,
why can't I ask
why
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The
winter, the truck lights that blinds you
The handbrake
locked tight
as a drum
The cold fear
that follows
a speed change,
The transits
that make your
bum numb
The route
book thats older
than history
The tsd's
where the weird
miles dance
The
silliness, the CB's
the mystery,
I've bade em
good-bye -
but I can't
There's a
land where the
stages are nameless
And the
roads all run God
knows where
There are
instructions that
are erring and aimless
And seconds
that hang by
a hair
There are
factors that nobody
reckons
There are
controls unpeopled
and still
There's a
land - Oh it beckons
and beckons
And I want
a score dropped
and I will
They're
making my horsepower
diminish
I'm sick of
speed limits
inane
Thank
Jerry! When
I'm cited the third time
I'll
prepare for the Alcan
again
I'll drive
- and you bet
its no One Lap
It's hell
but I've driven
it before
And its
better than tickets
by a damm sight:
So for me
its the Alcan
once more.
There's
clearing a stage
and it's haunting
It's luring
me on as of
old
Yet it
isn't the win that
I'm wanting
So much as
just zeroing
the road
It's the
great big broad
rally up yonder
It's the
'TSD' where perfection
has lease,
It's the
slick roads that
fill me with wonder
It's the
good score that
fills me with peace
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