As Supercar Sunday, it drew to a close
Owners started their cars, with smiles aglow
But one car was sitting, making nary a peep
A little white Supra, by no means a heap.
A ground to the fuel pump decided to leave
The owner was stranded, but not really peeved
Respectful and knowing, he sat there and waited
For the tow truck with which his car would be mated.
The ramp lowered down, driver shook his head
"That Supra's too low to get on my bed!"
They scrambled for wood, they scrambled for lift
To save that preciously low front clip
More wood was brought, and more height was gained
'Twas only that Supra in the lot which remained.
The car climbed up slowly, with nary a scrape
With that low front lip maintaining it's shape.
The oh-so-low Supra was off for repair
I hope that the owner won't tear out his hair.