If life is a journey; and marriage a ride,
Listen up, then, I say, while to you I confide
the details of two people - my mother and dad -
and some facts that should leave us all happy, not sad.

Now, what sort of transport, would those two employ
in the journey of life, through both sorrow and joy?
An oxcart, a rickshaw, gas-guzzling polluter?
Don’t you know they began with a new Vespa scooter?

They were snazzy, thereafter: a Jaguar from Britain
(and by then with each other I guess they were smitten).
I think such a car was for them just a lark,
and it can’t have been easy to parallel park!

I’m not sure what came next, please don’t make such a fuss,
by the time I was born, ’twas a Volkswagen bus.
We had three of those doozies, with the big sliding door;
and a clutch, and a stick-shift for four on the floor.

There were little, small windows, more function than flair;
both the engine and passengers cooled by the air.
There was not, I don’t think, still a knob for the choke;
they were good, simple cars, made for good, simple volk.

There was briefly a wagon, our trips did enliven;
I remember us all piled in at the drive-in.
A blue Chevrolet didn’t make us feel smug,
nor a buff-colored, rusting, old Volkswagen bug.

Then Japanese cars were the rage for a while:
a Datsun, then Camrys for mile after mile.
A Prius was next, when they hit the west coast.
“We’ve gone green, don’t you know,” you could just hear them boast.

Now, some modes of transport were less useful means;
When my mom rode a horse, we could all hear her screams.
And these days when you see them, don’t stare like a stalker
if they, both of them, happen to walk with a walker.

What you learn in this life, as the years pass on by,
is it simply don’t matter what you drive, ride, or fly.
Down a hill, you can start an old car with a shove,
but life’s not the same without someone to love.

A car’s just a method to get there from here,
it’s the people you go with you really hold dear.
My sister, my brother, and I all agree,
that there’s no better combo: those two and us three.

Thank goodness that airbags and seatbelts protect us
when things went awry, things that damn nearly wrecked us.
More thanks for the strong, loving arms, the embraces,
and the soft, gentle touches wiping tears from our faces.

Now don’t forget Hazel, and Sammy, those two,
who are driving through life with a much younger view;
we want them both always to aim for the stars!
(Note that Hazel still drives one of grandpa’s old cars.)

Oh, life is a journey, you don’t want to miss,
so you might as well stop now and then for a kiss;
there are times that will leave you all tired and grumpy;
hang on tight and remember, this ride can be bumpy!

My old man and my mom have hit sixty-five years,
of living together through laughter and tears.
They have covered some miles, they have gone a long way,
and I’m proud of them, really, I just have to say.

After all of these years, who cares what they drove?
What matters is, year after year, they still strove
to stay on the journey, and stick with each other -
those two dear old coots, my papa and my mother.

There were accidents, breakdowns and tires that went flat,
three’s been traffic, and blizzards, and rainstorms, all that,
when you might have pulled off of the road needing towing,
but you stepped on the gas, and you just kept on going!

Keep on going as far as the journey will take you;
(if one thinks of stopping, the other will make you).
Here’s to you on this milestone of thirteen-times-fives;
And may God bless the journey the rest of your lives!

For M&D on their 65th wedding anniversary
with love from Sean