jjacob
Member
Written by Fiat Club America member Kevin Pound
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and out in the shed
Sat a tired old FIAT, its battery dead
Its fenders were rusted, the floorpan had holes
The seats and the carpets had been eaten by voles
The tires had dry-rot, the gas tank was leaking
A turn of the wheel sent tie rods a-creaking.
So I put on my coat with a weight on my heart,
And went out to the shed to get it to start.
The engine turned over--there arose such a clatter!
I knew from the sound it was timing chain chatter.
From under the dashboard there came a bright flash:
The wiring harness had just turned to ash!
“I’ve had it with Fiats!” I finally swore
“Enough is too much! I can’t take anymore!”
When what to my red, teary eyes should appear
But a little Italian (hell, I need a beer!)
“Buon giorno,” he said, poking me in the belly.
“You needa my help? I’m Gianni Agnelli.
“This one can be saved; there’s no reason to grieve.
All you need is some faith--Man, you gotta believe!
“A hammer! Some duct tape! Get me more tools!
When you work on these cars, just make up-a da rules!
We’ll get her cranked over—no way that she’ll stall
(But stand over there wit’ you back to the wall.)
A cough and a sputter, the cacophony stunning--
I couldn’t believe it! The damn thing was running!
The ghost winked at me and said, kicking a tire,
“Whatever you do, DO NOT TOUCHA THIS WIRE!”
The old man then vanished amid sneezes and farts
But when the smoke cleared he had left me some parts.
So I opened the shed door and let the top down
Put pedal to metal and went out on the town.
And I thought to myself as I missed second gear
Merry Christmas to All and a Happy New Year!
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and out in the shed
Sat a tired old FIAT, its battery dead
Its fenders were rusted, the floorpan had holes
The seats and the carpets had been eaten by voles
The tires had dry-rot, the gas tank was leaking
A turn of the wheel sent tie rods a-creaking.
So I put on my coat with a weight on my heart,
And went out to the shed to get it to start.
The engine turned over--there arose such a clatter!
I knew from the sound it was timing chain chatter.
From under the dashboard there came a bright flash:
The wiring harness had just turned to ash!
“I’ve had it with Fiats!” I finally swore
“Enough is too much! I can’t take anymore!”
When what to my red, teary eyes should appear
But a little Italian (hell, I need a beer!)
“Buon giorno,” he said, poking me in the belly.
“You needa my help? I’m Gianni Agnelli.
“This one can be saved; there’s no reason to grieve.
All you need is some faith--Man, you gotta believe!
“A hammer! Some duct tape! Get me more tools!
When you work on these cars, just make up-a da rules!
We’ll get her cranked over—no way that she’ll stall
(But stand over there wit’ you back to the wall.)
A cough and a sputter, the cacophony stunning--
I couldn’t believe it! The damn thing was running!
The ghost winked at me and said, kicking a tire,
“Whatever you do, DO NOT TOUCHA THIS WIRE!”
The old man then vanished amid sneezes and farts
But when the smoke cleared he had left me some parts.
So I opened the shed door and let the top down
Put pedal to metal and went out on the town.
And I thought to myself as I missed second gear
Merry Christmas to All and a Happy New Year!
Last edited:
