(with apologies to Alexander McCall Smith)
No one can ever love you like I do.
I couldn’t love that van reliable, and new,
so comfortable, smoothly humming, shiny blue,
I love to see the history of long-remembered knocks,
enjoy the feel of passing over pot-holes, ruts, – the shocks
never much absorbed, I keep awake with clang and jolt;
– but when the bang can’t be ignorned, a really major fault,
reluctantly permit it bear mechanical assault
to diagnose and mend, or fit another salvaged part:
it then transports me well again
– my van of faithful heart!
The bump in its upholstery,
with its funny dip and hump,
just fits so perfectly my own quite weighty lump!
This vehicle is scorned by every progress-loving man,
but this detective lady, who’s traditionally built,
will never, ever want to change
her friendly, little ancient white van!
(of course I also love my J.L.B.:
my precious husband’s love amazes me.
I fly into his arms in such a state,
and trust him as I trusted long my Daddy, late).