I was driving down East Sprague Avenue
On my way to Radio Shack,

The truck ahead was loaded to the gunnels
With old mufflers and tailpipes, heading back

To the local metal recycling center --
Still needed in peacetime as before

I became a man -- working thru school
During US versus Axis war,

It all began with used tin cans --
Grandpa scrubbed the labels off,

He had paranoia over nosy neighbors --
Felt vague fears that they would scoff,

It did little good to try to convince him
That recycling was worth the effort,

Still he did his part, saving bottles and cans --
Used metal as a last resort,

He couldn't till his Victory Garden
With a wooden hoe -- he'd observe

That draft dodgers, unlike Jimmy Stewart,
Had no willingness to serve,

He'd remind us that he had two sons in the Army --
Others 4-F, had families or worked the farm,

That's what was needed on a Rock Creek ranch --
A male offspring with muscle in his arm,

Now American steel mills are closing daily --
The Japanese corner the market,

There's such a plethora of imported cars,
If one had to, could he somehow just park it?

With new models coming out every month --
Samurai, Kamikaze and Bonsai,

GM and Ford, though still competing,
Should give Japanese names a try,

Lexus all pray that tomorrow will bring
Prestige to American cars,

We could hope, before setting off for the planets,
That they don't have parking meters on Mars.

by D. Edgar Murray 03/13/2000.