Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the site
Not an engine was turning, neither red block nor white
The race skins were hung in the shed with such care
No one slaloms on Christmas. With a mate, who would dare?

The tools were all stashed, in their boxes and racks
Parts were all put away, rags in neat stacks
Magazines and manuals, all returned to their places
Schematics and parts lists, In their respective spaces

A couple of phone calls, some messages sent
Convey greetings to others, of motorhead bent
Scrub well under fingernails, please leave the sink clean
Your in-laws are coming, and another fifteen

At day’s end you ponder, if tomorrow there’s time
To paint those new calipers, would that be a crime?
After all it is Christmas, but rise before six
You could do just a few things, to your favorite bricks

Then rush to the store, for flowers and brandy
For guests bearing presents, hopefully something handy
But now close the GA-rage, and take off your shoes
You finished that valve job, almost time for a snooze

Too late to make dinner, too late for a drink
Too late to go out now, you’re poised at the brink
You’re tired and dragging, as you head for the shower
Plenty to eat tomorrow, at the awaited hour

But wait, what’s that racket? After one in the morning.
Could the neighbors be at it? They deserve a stern warning
You creep to the window, and peer toward the street
Not a creature is stirring, the silence complete

But someone was yelling. You put on your shoes
And step out in the darkness. The scene to peruse
And what do your tired eyes happen to meet?
How can this be? What is this feat?


There by the curbside, park lights aglow
A bright red V70. But wait—it’s in tow!
Ahead of the vehicle, hitched to the front
Eighteen elegant creatures, now that’s lots of grunt!

Your mouth is agape, your senses are reeling
When what on your shoulder, are you suddenly feeling?
A gent in a red suit. Insistently tapping
“I could sure use some help here, you look young and strapping.

Had a flat near Newfoundland. Such a hassle whenever.
I’m two hours behind, better late than never!
And what with these packages, each season more numerous
I’m thankful for Amazon, now isn’t that humorous?”

He opens his hatch and a marvel to see
Thousands of packages. Just how can that be?
Two trips does it take, from his car to the doorway
“No chimneys for this bunch, I’m too old for that play”

Your tongue all a-tangle, you stumble to speak
“Saint Nick…in a Volvo? That’s oh so unique!”
“Oh no” says the driver, “Saint Nick’s yet to come.
I’m a contract employee, an agency from.

This car stuff you see, he simply can’t handle
He just does the light stuff, those don’t hold a candle
So Nick has some helpers, These days as you see
To haul certain items. Helpers like me!”

With that he sprang lightly, to the curb and his ride
He honked at the reindeer, once settled inside
With engine a-racing, and hooves all ablaze
He leaves for the next stop, someone else to amaze

You wave still not certain, if it all was a dream
But the packages tell you, this is just what it seems
As you locate the boxes, you can hear his faint call
Merry Christmas you gearheads! Merry Christmas to all!