Scrapyard Challange

November 16th, 2013
Motorcyclist | Bangkok

A broken tail light
Was always greeted with joy
In our household
Because it usually signified
A trip to the scrapyard

In the World before Halfords
Spare parts were like quarry
And Scrapyards
With their Towers of cars
Were our hunting grounds.

On arrival
We would scour the scene
For our own particular
Breed of car
Before stripping the carcass

Window winders, ash trays and lenses
Were all considered fair game
And we showed little fear
Climbing in and out of cars
Piled five or six high
Health and safety hadn’t been invented
And even common sense
Was in short supply.

When we had all of the ‘bits’
We would take them to the counter
Where the owner would pick
An arbitrary figure out of the air
If the price was right
A deal was done
If not…
We would put something back.

Now that people refrain
From opening their bonnets
These places have all but disappeared
Tinkering with your car
Is the preserve of ‘enthusiasts’
Not the man on the street.
At least I can say
That my old MGB
ended it’s life as
‘a doner’…