Days of Thunder

By Roger J. Hull

Back in days of yore
Roundabout Nineteen hundred sixty four

The big bore Corvettes
And Cobras would roar

Round Road America, round
They’d go, pedal to metal

Inches to spare, they’d clip corners
With the outside front wheel in the air

Blue with white stripes, white with red
the colours would tell who was ahead

The ground would shake
And the crowd would scare

Down Canada Corner hill
Rolled the big bore thunder

Spinning and squealing the tires
Round the corner, black rubber fires

Round they’d go like dogs in the chase
A fearless lot with smiles on their face

Up the Dunlop hill and disappear
Only to later on the horizon, reappear

Like mystical Ancient Gods and
The rumble of approaching thunder

[Sports car racing at Elkhart Lake, WI.
 Road America in the ‘60s]

[Roger volunteered for the field crew,
but never got to race any of his many sports cars.]

Corvettes in a Curve  

Corvettes in a Curve

 Mail Roger


More Poems

My Place

Read War's End, the Novel

Copyright 2008 © Roger J. Hull


A  Cobra racing at
Elkhart Lake