AIWA
AIWA
The next vivid mem'ry that I can recall
Dealt with love of a quite diff'rent stripe.
Her name? It was AIWA, blonde beauty, smooth lines --
Most assuredly she was my type!
Japanese (and she's blonde? -- all except for the trim)
She had clean lines, was skilled and so slim --
With three diff'rent speeds she could run on her own
But most often I'd just plug her in.
I wanted her more so than anything else
Ever since I saw pictures in print.
But a hundred and twenty in '64 terms
Was like having to print your own mint!
I saved up my shekels -- took most of a year --
Each day I would stare at her frame.
Her look was all business -- but she could be fun --
She'd be good at most anyone's game.
The day fin'ly came when she came in the mail,
Safely wrapped in a Styrofoam coat.
I carefully stripped her of all but her skin --
Caressing her satin-smooth throat.
"Hello," I said softly. "Hello," she said back.
I smiled -- point of fact, I just grinned!
We were all but insep'rable from that day on --
For years my insep'rable friend …
I would take her to school and show her around,
Have my friends meet and greet her as well.
She would mimic them perfectly, or just for fun,
Make them sound like a chipmunk -- that's swell …
If it wasn't for her, I would probably not
Have spent hours just grooming my voice.
From
The Bible and Youth to the GC itself --
She made radio seem a good choice.
Now, with an iPhone there's no need for tape --
Just record what you want -- No big deal.
But back in the day, if you had to record,
There was nothing like reel-to-reel!
I've never had anything -- before or since --
That did more than it promised so well.
In terms of pure happiness things can provide,
That AIWA was no empty shell!