Tales of the Shop
              by Robert W. Service-Advisor

              The Speedometer

Oh, the stories we hear, like the stars in the sky,
   Have all been encountered before,
But just when you think that you've heard of them all,
   A new one will drive through the door.

He brought in the car, said it didn't work right,
   And he wanted it fixed by tomorrow,
Said the speedo was bad, it was reading too low,
   And was causing him no end of sorrow.

So old Tom took it on, checking all of the faults
   That might cause anyone such a terror;
Even minor mistakes, lack of grease or a screw,
   No matter how small of an error.

Pull the dash, check the head for gears that were broke,
   Find anything there that ain't able,
And then follow the line as you move to the wheel,
   See if anything's wrong with the cable.

But the tests came up short, no fault found at all,
   So Tom drove it out on Route Nine,
And a stop-watch was used just to doubly make sure ...
   And it showed that the speedo was fine.

When he came for the car, and we asked him again,
   Just where was it bad, and how long?
He sighed, and complained, like you'd speak to a child,
   That the needle just had to be wrong.

Because, he explained, as I drive home from work,
   And I drive at the speed-limit posted,
All the cars on the road zoom by, faster than me,
   So the speedo just has to be toasted!

Oh, the stories we hear, like the stars in the sky,
   Have all been encountered before,
But just when you think that you've heard of them all,
   A new one will drive through the door.