Out in West Texas, we were traveling one day

On Highway 87, headed home with a load

As we were approaching a town called Canyon

We spied an old truck, along side the road.

Worn and tired, this old truck had retired

A red and white truck, parked out of the way

'Twas an old Coca~Cola truck, but guess what?

It surely was not loaded with cokes today.

This truck had a sign stuck on the door

The sign simply read, 'FIREWOOD FOR SALE"

This old farmer had made a few sales

But we had no room; not even for one bale.

We had some laughs about all this wood

On this old truck, cut and stacked just right

How odd it looked for still on this door

Reads "Coca~Cola" on that red paint so bright.

In the car was Floyd, my retired brother-in-law

He had worked at Coca~Cola for many a year

Excited he got and we just had to stop

Photos of Floyd and this old truck, we'll hold dear.

It brought back old memories of his years gone by

'Cause he had a route and drove a truck like this

But later he got to work in the plant

Working a route, he did not miss.

C~C uniforms he wore with pride

Cleaned and ironed, all spick-and-span

Something made from his old uniform

I still have: from his uniform of tan.

We went to the grand opening of Coke's new plant

To show off the plant, Floyd would gladly do

I showed him a really neat Coca ~ Cola clock

I was really surprised when my birthday came.

He bought for me this C~C clock

Perfect time it kept, for many a year

Two decades and eight, its time was true

I miss my old clock: to me, it remains dear.

Seeing this old truck still working so hard

Had brought a big smile and to him a big thrill

Time marches on but his memories were clear

Of good times he had and we remember them still.

Bessie MelVina Carathers

May 28, 2001