‘Twas the night before Cruizmas and all through the shop, not an engine was running, fine tuning had stopped.  The tools were all laid in the toolbox with care, the lights were turned off and I sat in my chair. I tried to keep quiet & not make a sound, for I knew that St. Cruizer would soon be around.

I wanted a glimpse of the short that he drove tho’ no one had seen it; there’s much that’s been told of its sleekness and power; trick paint job and such, to be able to view it would just be too much! My eyelids grew heavy as I started to nod, I knew that some sleep would be good for my bod.

When out on the road there arose such a clatter, it sounded to me like pressure plate chatter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, flipped up the shade and peered through the glass. The street light shone down on the new fallen snow, and lit up the night and the objects below.

Then what should my wandering eyes then behold, but a chopped ’50 Merc of the kind I’d been told. With a James Dean type driver so cool and so neat, I knew it was he that I wanted to meet. The car was a Cruizer with coats of Pearl flames, with a blown 409 it’d put most others to shame.

With Appleton spotlights full skirts and Moon wheels, fuzzy dice and rolled interior sure gave it appeal. St. Cruizer was dressed in tight leathers of red, and a full cage chrome roll bar secured the chopped lid. In his low riding Merc he was something to see, but the whine of that puffer sent chills throughout me.

He bogged to a stop with a puff of blue smoke & I knew in a moment that something had broke. He opened the shaved door pryed on the louvered hood; I knew how he swore that all was not good. All rod bearings and mains he spun themselves tight, I knew for sure “no more Cruizin tonight”.

I opened the shop up, we pushed the car in. All had happened so fast it made my head spin. I happened to have a new block on the shelf so I loaned him my tools and offered my help. We spoke not a word and went quickly to work, wrenching and tuning then he turned with a jerk.

As quick as a wink that motor was repaired, I couldn't believe it, I just stood there and stared. Then he turned on the key and when it fired gave a shout, he threw it into first and let the clutch out. He roared out of the shop, the rear quarters in smoke, to visit more Cruizers and other fine folk.

Then I heard him exclaim as he roared past my rail; “MERRY CHRISTMAS to ALL, HOPE YOUR MOTORS DON’T FAIL!”