Ode to a Transmission

For my first blog, I would like to pen an ode to the transmission in our van which recently broke:


O Fickle hand of fate, so rough
Why make this fragile metal beast?
Why not make it of sterner stuff
Like adamantium at least

While driving up 154
My ear attuned to T-Bone's babble
Our van said "pop"
We had to stop
For forward it refused to dabble

Our vaunted steed no longer baller
We needed fixing of our hauler
There was no need to feel blue
Rizzoli would know what to do

His next advice was fairly brief
Our engine must procure the beef
A better tranny was required
Or else our ride would be retired

The new transmission was obtained
Its gears possessed of godly might
And with its saga now explained
It transports us into the night