调：C major
Verse 1
C
B
Bb
A
This is the way that it was.
Just as far back as I can remember,
drafty old garage,
getting grease on my hands and feet,
smelling the exhaust
and watching my dad and brothers
tear down an old truck or Model T,
or some other kind of souvenirs.
Only one thing on my mind,
man, I was dying to dig into them gears.
Quit the 11th grade,
went into debt to get my first rig.
bucks in arrears.
Headed down the open highway,
eating that concrete coming my way.
Brother, I had it made.
I got to know all the spots
along the way
And they got to know me
I courted the waitresses and the cashiers
I was king of the highway
They treated me to the coffee
What went on inside my head
There ain't nothin' in this old
noggin'
Finally set my sights on a
pretty little thing
South of Ardmore
Every time I pulled away from her place
So I says,
hon, if you don't like my leavin'
Then you just pack your little old bag
And jump on board
Ain't nobody gonna stop you
Watch old daddy make her swing
And for some pretty music,
just listen to the hummin' of my gears.
Man, I was fed up,
clean to my ears.
was my motto.
I had tracks to make,
so I flew the coop.
Turned old Ginny around
and headed north.
This time I mean to tell you
Latched on to another
up in Kokomo.
This looked like the real thing
so I popped the question quick.
whenever old Ann Cupid appears.
We tied the knot
and rented a place up the road.
She didn't seem to mind
my leaving near as much as I did.
Well, you know that old saying,
that bad nickel always reappears.
Next night when I got home,
there was Brownsville
The wife was crying,
the other not saying nothing.
Nothing now, that is.
And don't you know
she had said plenty already.
up on top of the truth.
G
D
G
like her face all covered with smears.
cause inside my head
and all of a sudden
I was at the wheel.
and a sandstorm at the same time.
We was headed down
Baker's Ridge
wide open
and the brakes was gone.
was blasting my head off.
The hood flew off
F
D
G
D
I was diving head first right straight into them whirling,
G
C
B
Bb
A
grinding, spinning, greasy gears.
Well, that's all of my
story, Mr. Reporter.
Just tell them I'm real sorry
for what I done.
Think it'll come out in the papers
If it's worth anything to you,
just give it to my widow.
Don't know where she is.
between here and Kokomo.
And that guy that's buying them,
That run away from home
And jammin' them galding, greasy gears
D
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