After 25 years on the air, Click & Clack are calling it sorta-quits. The Car Talk blog confirms, it’s time for the boys to get even lazier.
RAY: Hey, you guys. My brother has always said, “Don’t be afraid of work.”
TOM: Right. Make work afraid of YOU!
RAY: And he’s done such a good job at it, that work has avoided him all his life.
TOM: And with Car Talk celebrating its 25th anniversary on NPR this fall (35th year overall, including our local years at WBUR)…
RAY: …and my brother turning over the birthday odometer to 75, we’ve decided that it’s time to stop and smell the cappuccino.
TOM: So as of October, we’re not going to be recording any more new shows. That’s right, we’re retiring.
And so, in tribute, the verse I always wanted to send them, but never did. Seems all the more appropriate now…
My car does not murmur; she groans and complains
And she limps–just a bit–on the right.
She shouts out in protest at tasks she disdains
As one cylinder fails to ignite.
Whenever we turn, there’s a noise from the brakes
That’s a hollow and cancerous cough.
The faster the highway, the harder she shakes
Until bits of her start to fall off.
I remember the days when she purred like a cat
So responsive, so agile, so fast;
She would tear through a curve and then leap down the flat
And refuse–stubborn thing–to be passed.
I will always remember the car she once was—
That’s the reason I can’t let her go;
It’s the things that she did, not the things that she does;
I suppose it will always be so.
I, myself, I admit, may be showing some wear
And my warranty’s long since expired;
There’s some rust in the joints and some grey in the hair
And what once revved me up makes me tired.
When I look, with my near-sighted eyes, at my car
It’s the beauty of old that I see;
If you look this direction—I see that you are—
Would you please do that favor for me?
Happy trails, boys!