: Michael-Robert: Embry. (@Soft_Power_Thinker)

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS Twas the night before Christmas, and upon my garage bench, Not a tool was a spinning, not even a wrench. The cars were all parked in their stalls with great care, In hope that St Nicholas soon would be there. This car guy was nestled all snug in my bed, While visions of fast cars raced through my head. Snuggled in with my jammies and my favorite wool cap, I was geared to slumber for a long winter’s nap. When out on the driveway there arose a valve clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the garage I flew like T. J. Hunt, But I tripped on a floor jack and had quite a shunt. The moon on the paint of FALCONSTEIN's hood, Had the luster of fresh polish which truly looked good. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But A Hauler of OLD BEATERS and a COOLER of cold beer. And pullling the trailer was a driver so slick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than racers his cars they all came, And he honked, and he shouted, and called them by name! “Now Plymouth! Now, Olds! Now, Buick and Chevrolet! On, Pontiac! and Caddy! On JAG from UK! Drive Dodge! Drive BUICK! Drive AMC too! Shift International! Shift Jeep! and OH how they flew!” The smell of burnt gear lube lingered thick in the air, And the marks of burnt rubber on the roadway were there, So off of the trailer and Oh how they flew, It was a sleigh pulled by cars, driven by St Nicholas too. And then, all a revving, I heard in the garage The distinct Lopey Cam of a certain little Dodge. As I poked in my head, he was turning around, And there in to my garage was St Nicholas found. He was dressed like a racer, from his head to his foot, And his race suit was tarnished with oil and soot. A bundle of car parts he had flung on his back, And he looked like a mechanic opening up his tool sack. His eyes-how they twinkled! My Gaze Did Not Break His cheeks were like chrome and his nose, metallic Flake! His long white mustache was drawn up like a bow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the ECTO. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old racer And I laughed when I saw him, like a barn find car chaser. A wink of his eyes, like the sparkle of chrome, And I knew this old fellow had Plenty of cars at his home. He spoke not a word, and delivered his treats, He filled the glove boxes, the trunks and the seats. And laying his wrench aside of his nose, He gave a nod,  and into his cab he arose! His semi fired up with a glorious roar, And away he drove right in front of my garage door. He cheered with excitement, as he drove out of sight, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”