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
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 |