There's a U-Pull-It salvage yard off mile marker 143 where my truck decided it was done this afternoon. I figured I'd sit in the cab and wait on the tow, and instead I ended up walking the lot with the old man who runs it. He wasn't sorry for a single wreck out there. He waved at them like they were old friends pulling out of church — said every dead thing on that lot was a good part waitin' on the right two hands. I've been scrapin' by since I was twenty-two, and somewhere between his gate and the ice machine it hit me: I'd been writing myself off all these years the exact way he never once wrote off a truck. He charged me twenty for the alternator and took ten, because — his words — every truck out here drove somebody somewhere, friend. This song came home with me in the bed of that tow truck. It's for everybody carrying a dash light they've duct-taped over. You've still got parts the world ain't used yet.
[Instrumental Intro — 4-8 bars]
[Verse 1]
Mile marker 143 on a Friday afternoon,
Old truck died in a dust cloud where the county road runs through.
Twenty-two years scrapin' by on somebody else's plans,
And a dash light I kept duct-taped so I wouldn't see the end.
[Chorus]
Old man's wavin' at the wrecks,
Says they're good parts waitin' on better years.
Every dead thing on this lot still runs in somebody's prayers,
Ring up what you need, leave the rustin' to the air.
'Cause we've all got parts the world ain't used yet,
Yeah, we've all got parts the world ain't used yet.
[Verse 2]
Comet-red door swings on the fence like it's still proud
Of a mile it drove in '91 — it still talks out loud.
Old yard dog on his bench-seat throne, half-asleep in the sun,
King of everything that quit — never judged no one.
[Chorus]
Old man's wavin' at the wrecks,
Says they're good parts waitin' on better years.
Every dead thing on this lot still runs in somebody's prayers,
Ring up what you need, leave the rustin' to the air.
'Cause we've all got parts the world ain't used yet,
Yeah, we've all got parts the world ain't used yet.
[Bridge — THE TURN]
Twenty dollars and a handshake — he slips the price to ten,
'Cause every truck out here drove somebody somewhere, friend.
I'm done writin' off the rust on everything I am,
If the good Lord salvages, I reckon I can.
[Spoken]
"Nothin' in this yard is dead, son — just waitin' on the right two hands."
[Final Chorus — earned, different weight]
Old man's wavin' at the wrecks,
Says they're good parts waitin' on better years.
Every mile I called wasted runs in somebody's prayers,
The junkman waved me through the gate — said, Son, your engine sings.
I still got parts the world ain't used yet,
Lord, I still got parts the world ain't used yet.
[Instrumental Outro — fade like an engine cooling]
Production note: Second Chances road — Friday night drive. Uptempo heartland rock at 126 bpm: ringing telecaster open chords over a baritone guitar low end, driving eighth-note roadhouse drums, a Hammond B3 that holds back until the final chorus, and a harmonica answering the outro while the engine cools. The turn lives in the bridge — a handshake discount from twenty to ten, and the decision to quit writing off the rust.
Credits: Written by Wyatt Cole · AI-assisted production · NXagents
