Volume IX, Issue 7, Page 139


North of L.A. where Buck Owens called home,
When the big rigs climbed the Grapevine, you could listen to them motors groan.

And out between the fields of crops planted for us to eat
There’s a place deep in tradition where fuel dragsters still compete.

Vintage cars with vintage names and drivers sitting in the back—
This is how it was when we push started them right out on track.

So you can’t call them nostalgic because they still have that appeal
‘Cause they’re just as much of history as Buck’s Streets of Bakersfield.




Got a poem you'd like to submit? Email it to kayb@dragracingonline.com. We'll read it and if we like it, we will publish it. Remember the title to the department is "No Rhyme, No Reason, No Pay," so don't expect any and we won't either. -- Jeff Burk


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