Patrick's graduation, 1988

Written upon Pat's graduation from "Worcester Poly", this poem recounts many of the greatest observations I made as these short years blew by. As to the details and the accuracy of the events, Patrick will have to be the judge, but I love remembering and reading, because it always makes me feel me a little closer to him.

A BEGINNING - NOT AN ENDING - 1988

Here you are now, home at last!

Efforts of four years become now 'the past'.

Long days - class lectures - laboratory drills.

Each challenge, it was met, each job you fulfilled.

There were friendships and there were fights,

Greg drinking koolaid in a pan late at night.

Dupe and Chris sometimes acted like they were foes,

Shifting tides of friendship - life's image always shows.

Mechanics of fluids, Fortran and 'diffy-que',

ideas for tomorrow - formulas proven true.

Even as Borden challenges Patrick's mind,

Sure was he that more "A-D's" he would find.

Derwood White came closer as a friend,

they played and studied - weeks on end.

Friendly fighting, intense, even hyper at times,

though always the next day to friendship reinclined.

The Buick was legend, or was it an Olds?

Stalking the Worcester streets on winter nights so cold.

He sits at the wheel massaging gently to his famous "breakstand".

Torque converter working, revs climbing over five grand.

Next lane over sits a bad Malibu in black.

"Whataya got in that thing?" he yells, one eye on the'tack'.

The light now amber, rear wheels almost bustin' loose,

Engine roar is deafening - lights green now, 4-barrel gets the juice.

The 396' gets the jump, he's a fender out in front!

Pat's wheels are a'smokin', got more torque than he wants.

Fender to fender now, ready for the shift!

Holley's getin' lots of air now, thanks to the fancy new high lift.

45 to 50 now Buick's bumper inchin' up!

He bangs it to second, the Malibu can't keep up!

Skylark lurches to the lead, rubber 'chirps' onto the street.

One more Chevy's shut down, to Derek, that's not too neat!

Now that wild machine is ready for a rest.

Won more than she ever lost, and give it her best.

More rust on the body now, motor mounts goin bad.

Looking back on everything, there's reason to be glad.

Pistol range was always fun when Dad would come down,

Ear muffs and goggles, stand steady now and don't clown.

Let's hear that 44' now, I'm ready for the roar!

Weight lifters come running in breakin' down the door!

"Who shot that cannon?..I thought we were had!"

22's and 38's never sound all that bad!

"It's a Smith and Wesson, stainless, 8-inch, Model #29.

When it comes to blowin' targets up, she'll do it every time!

"Hey, let's go four-wheelin', that's a Bronco 351.

Maybe even take off the top, and let in some sun.

Brush bar and big mudders, she looks ready to "charge"!

Take the camera along - get some pictures to enlarge.

Look at that poster, jumbo sized, on the wall.

There comes that Monster truck, mud spray-in' over all!

A Chevy, a Buick, a Caddy and a truck,

The gallery now complete, wish them all future luck.

Will Detroit be remembered? You can bet that it will!

That Kowasaki '4-banger left'em all standin' still.

Disk brakes all around, water cooled and all.

Rack and pinion, racing shocks-started building in the fall.

Such a mess at times, such a joy at times too!

Someone needs to be in charge - who'll it be? Guess who?

Frustrations and tempers, fightin' city hall,

Will we ever get it built? Will we ever heed the call?

Carburetor problems almost had us beat!

Last minute rushing - cursing - really felt the heat!

We drove all night, no time for lots of trials,

Pulled into the Motor city-that finally brought some smiles!

The new cam did the trick, we were really runnin' hot!

Worcester Poly's racing team blew-em all off the lot!

Well now, let's be honest, we were really pretty fast,

Didn't really beat'em all, but neither were we last.

We learned a lot of lessons - where shall I begin?

We waited too long to start, that was our major sin.

Working through frustration - temper flare-ups and all,

We resolved them - in our memories now, they're small.

Now I read these lines, the lessons, very clear.

Looking back to all of this somehow seems so queer.

It's a beginning, not an ending, this happy day of joy.

High honors, and high blessings, Patrick Hopkins, he's our boy!!