Trust Fall

Climbing under the still rust free cab,
I survey the possible cause of the stubborn
truck's refusal to shift.

Not a leaking clutch slave cylinder -
Not an unwarranted thought, but that
leaking cylinder you saw on the frame
rail between the clutch pedal linkage
and the transmission, it was no slave,
it was the master, and she stops just fine.

After consulting the manual,
now falling apart after twenty years
of question and answer sessions,
I am set on a course to find and adjust
the clutch release lever. A few turns
in the wrong direction, and the gear shift
silently reprimands me by bending ever so slightly
as I attempt to put her in gear. I reverse course and
rectify my wrongs. After "Jungleland", "Glory Days", and
"God Will", Lyle and Bruce have seen me through, and
with trips to secure sockets, wrenches, and an extension,
out of the way,  it is time for the moment of truth.

She shifts! She runs! We drive through the cool breeze
together once again - but there is built up tension between us -
gifts of distributors, spark plugs, carburetors - even a new fuel tank
all went unrequited and left me stranded and pushing my way home.
"Y'all need to take short, trust fall trips" my brother wisely advises.


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