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Santa's alternative transportation. (Image source: raritan-online.com)
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Twas the day before Christmas, when through all of the
paddocks.
Not a
motor was idling, not even a single Cosworth “Lump” could be heard.
The garages were swept and tidied with care,
In hopes that Roger Penske soon would be there;
The mechanics were nestled all snug in their beds.
While visions of Championship bonuses danced in their heads. (Not to mention HULIO dreaming of what
might have been, if only he hadn't crashed over that 'Yump in Houston)
And
“Princess” in her negligee, (Or
was that her Cowboy Hat 'N swim suit?) Along with Paul Tracy in his crash bucket, had just settled
down for a quick tryst in the sack.
(Hey!
I hear that Danica’s still available, right 'Ricky-boy? Likes Yuhs better not
loose Danica's number...)
When out on the lawn there arose such a racket, ‘ol PT sprang from the bed to
see what “TAG, Suitcase Servia, Whiney Bags and Bad Bobby D’ were groaning
about.
Away
to the window Tracy
flew like a demon. Ran over the back markers and punted the Hamburgular clear
outta the way.
The
smoke from between Sea Bass’s ears. Glistened like a smoke signal, without a
glow. When, what to PT’s wandering eyes should appear but a Ferrari ENZO
followed by an armada of Prancing Horses in tow.
The
ENZO was piloted by an ex-Formula 1 driver, still brutally quick.
That Tracy knew
in an instant it must be Michael Schumacher.
More rapid than a grid full of Bridgestone alternate “soft rubber tyre’ Formula
1 chassis in “Qualie Two” light fuel tanks mode. The seven times World Champion
whistled and jeered, and called them by name;
Now,
Mika now, Coulthard! Now, Rubinoe and Ralfanso!
On,
Heinz-Harald! On Villeneuve! On Damion and Irvine!
To the
front of the grid! To the head of the pack.
Now
burn rubber, burn rubber baby, burn rubber quick!
As
tyre tracks that leave ominous black streaks behind. While Herr Schumacher
leaves another competitor further behind!
So up
to the roof-top the Prancing Horses flew. With trunk loads of presents and
Schuey too. And then, came a banshee wail of the ENZO, high atop the roof.
The
revving and idling of each assorted Ferrari. As PT rubbed his hands. Down the
chimney Schuey forlornly came. He was dressed all in Scuderia Red, from his
head to his foot.
And his Nomex driver’s suit was all tarnished with ashes and soot;
an assortment of winning trophies, he’d stuffed into his back pack.
His
eyes -- how they twinkled! His rosy cheeks, how they glowed.
His
hair as always was perfect, (by Loreal...) his jaw like a chisel! His lips
clenched in a mischievous smirk. As the smile was reminiscent of a Cheshire
cat;
The
remains of a Cuban cigar hung limply from his teeth. As clouds of Smoke
encircled his head like a wreath;
He had
a taunt face and washboard abs. that still showed his youthful physique when he
laughed at the dumbfounded PT. He was strong and fit as an ox, a festive and
jolly elf; Thus Paul could only laugh when he appeared
A wink
of his eye and a twist of his head. Soon gave TRACY nothing to fear. As Schuey spoke nary a
word, but went straight to his work. Filling all of the stockings with various
racing trinkets. (Such as the 2002 Borg Warner Cup, a new three year contract
signed by P.L. Newman & Carl Haas along with some of the Hamburgular’s
secret winning sauce…)
Before
Messer Chrome Horn could wipe away his astonishment, the famous German turned
Quickly, laying his finger aside of his nose. And giving a nod, up the chimney
he rose;
He sprang to his idling ENZO, and to his waiting minions gave a whistle. And
the screeching of tortured Ferrari lumps could be heard as they burst away like
rocket ships! But ‘ol PT heard him exclaim, as he power-slided out of sight;
"Happy Holidays to all, and to all a good-night."
Merry Kringle Y'all!
Tomaso
(Originally written
by Tomaso – December, 2007)
