Old Timer

Written in response to https://weeklyprompts.com/2023/02/11/weekly-prompts-weekend-challenge-old/

‘I’m not on the scrapheap yet, lad, I can still pull the carts like I used to.’

‘But your paints all chipped, and your metal is rusty.’

A puff of smoke filled the air, as his engine stuttered into action. It took a while before it started, but once moving, he didn’t sound his age. These young whipper snappers, with their glossy paint, and oiled wheels didn’t know what it was like to work. ‘I can still out run you my lad. Can you pull eight carts in one go, filled with coal, I think not.’

‘I’m all electric I am, fast too.’

‘Not saying you ain’t, I was young too, once. I took all the landed gentry on trips to the seaside. The Queen Mum too. We all age, we just need to understand there is room for all of us.’

‘True, old timer,’ he said.

‘Less of the old,’ the old train chortled.