Paint it liberally in any hue,
But I suggest an indelible blue.
Blue, because it resonates calm,
wherever on earth you find it.
You may have to feed the engine turpentine.
But in that resourcefulness find no disgrace.
Such is the nature of the times.
What by chance fuels your shame,
cleans your brush, and
fuels your loftiest aims.
So dip your brush in the tank, and wait
for each indistinct layer to yield,
Like all corruption must.
Freed from pigmentary bonds,
the bristles once tawny and weak
fluidly produce the finest work.
Then look back to stage one.
Its toil will show
Not just an investment,
But a labour of love . . .
. . . a spoonful of which protects,
and more importantly, nourishes
a just and enduring tuk-tuk spirit.
So proudly take to the road, tuk-tuk,
Face the wind, and Ride.