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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
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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
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