Tony Radford
March 19th, 2011, 01:29 PM
Cobra
By Tony Radford
I never got bored with my souped up Ford and some quarter-a-gallon gas,
the things I did as a ’60s kid when I felt like going fast.
Showing our might from light to light, the sound of squealing tire,
proving who’s boss with a loud exhaust just bellowing smoke and fire.
But then, like now, most all would bow to the sign of a coiled up snake,
and the story be told of a vision bold, as history one would make.
A little car from a land afar, was about to lose its heart,
when a man in black and a cowboy hat would give it a fresh new start.
“Back in the day”, as the old guys say, “That Shelby did it right”,
and Hans and Franz from track Le Mans would finally lose the fight.
He bought just two, painted one blue and added some stripes for looks,
and Carroll’s name soon became the subject of countless books.
They both had a date with a little V-8 and would join the FIA.
Ferraris and ‘Vettes would lose all bets when Cobras came to play.
But the glory was brief, for like a thief, the big blocks stole the stage,
“Get the tools, we’ll show those fools, it’s time to turn the page”!
Like a gift from heaven, the four twenty seven became the magic word,
with a nip and tuck, and a bit of luck, Mr. Shelby produced “the Turd”.
A beauty not, she ran real hot, they’d chop, bend, twist and hack,
with a big block sound and race track bound, the Shelby team was back!
The same cute face, but a whole new race, so many trophies won,
that big V-8 would seal their fate, a legend they’d become.
There was no escape, that curvy shape, a captivating style,
like a valiant steed, she’d hit top speed in about a quarter-mile.
As they say, she’d have her day, but all good things must end,
for winning’s sake, we must innovate or the lead we’ll not defend.
She couldn’t meet the need for “sleek” and the Coupe would hit the scene,
but the Cobra’s reign had won her fame and a song from Jan and Dean.
Years would pass, but then at last, like a Phoenix from the flame,
a glass remake of a famous shape would restore the Cobra name.
Vintage bold, though not so old, a replica they say,
but oh so real - the look and feel, with parts from modern day.
An industry would come to be, as makers sold their kits,
and Snakes galore from shore to shore would give old Shelby fits.
Any show where Cobras go, they’d garner such appeal,
but such dismay when lookers say, “Is that a kit or real?”
The words “kit car” could leave a scar on some of the owners’ pride,
but truth be told, they’d trade their soul for a chance to take a ride.
A day of sun can yield more fun than a Cobra man can take,
but whatever you do, be sure that you don’t call his car a fake.
She may not be from sixty three, but to him she’s solid gold,
a vintage heart, some modern parts, and smiles a hundred fold.
By Tony Radford
I never got bored with my souped up Ford and some quarter-a-gallon gas,
the things I did as a ’60s kid when I felt like going fast.
Showing our might from light to light, the sound of squealing tire,
proving who’s boss with a loud exhaust just bellowing smoke and fire.
But then, like now, most all would bow to the sign of a coiled up snake,
and the story be told of a vision bold, as history one would make.
A little car from a land afar, was about to lose its heart,
when a man in black and a cowboy hat would give it a fresh new start.
“Back in the day”, as the old guys say, “That Shelby did it right”,
and Hans and Franz from track Le Mans would finally lose the fight.
He bought just two, painted one blue and added some stripes for looks,
and Carroll’s name soon became the subject of countless books.
They both had a date with a little V-8 and would join the FIA.
Ferraris and ‘Vettes would lose all bets when Cobras came to play.
But the glory was brief, for like a thief, the big blocks stole the stage,
“Get the tools, we’ll show those fools, it’s time to turn the page”!
Like a gift from heaven, the four twenty seven became the magic word,
with a nip and tuck, and a bit of luck, Mr. Shelby produced “the Turd”.
A beauty not, she ran real hot, they’d chop, bend, twist and hack,
with a big block sound and race track bound, the Shelby team was back!
The same cute face, but a whole new race, so many trophies won,
that big V-8 would seal their fate, a legend they’d become.
There was no escape, that curvy shape, a captivating style,
like a valiant steed, she’d hit top speed in about a quarter-mile.
As they say, she’d have her day, but all good things must end,
for winning’s sake, we must innovate or the lead we’ll not defend.
She couldn’t meet the need for “sleek” and the Coupe would hit the scene,
but the Cobra’s reign had won her fame and a song from Jan and Dean.
Years would pass, but then at last, like a Phoenix from the flame,
a glass remake of a famous shape would restore the Cobra name.
Vintage bold, though not so old, a replica they say,
but oh so real - the look and feel, with parts from modern day.
An industry would come to be, as makers sold their kits,
and Snakes galore from shore to shore would give old Shelby fits.
Any show where Cobras go, they’d garner such appeal,
but such dismay when lookers say, “Is that a kit or real?”
The words “kit car” could leave a scar on some of the owners’ pride,
but truth be told, they’d trade their soul for a chance to take a ride.
A day of sun can yield more fun than a Cobra man can take,
but whatever you do, be sure that you don’t call his car a fake.
She may not be from sixty three, but to him she’s solid gold,
a vintage heart, some modern parts, and smiles a hundred fold.