Twas the night before Christmas and all through the land. not a rover was leaking, not a series oil pan. The rovers were snug and all warm in their beds, with visions of slickrock and mud in their heads. Mom in her nighty, me in a Solihull cap, had just sat on the couch for a camel trophy recap. When out in the shop there rose such a rattle I swore my D-90 had just lost a big battle. I rose from the couch in a rather quick fashion Then rushed to the scene to see just what had happened. I threw open the door, and turned on the light, To my great surprise, everything was all right. Then out on the drive I heard a man grumbling, Something 'bout sir Lucas and his great mental fumbling. As I peered out my window and much a surprise, I saw jolly Saint Nick and an old 109. The fenders were all tattered, the bumper all twisted, The tires they where smoking and to one side it listed, the bonnet propped open, and his tools all askew, then Jolly Saint Nick quickly moved out of view. Then the lights came on dimly, with the left ones on first, Then jolly Saint Nick let out a foul curse. "Damn grounds", he was muttering as he came into sight, a few whacks with a jack and by gosh there was light. He gathered his tools and slammed down the bonnet, jumped into his rover and really got on it. The diesel was clanking, the smoke was a sight, as the old 109 disappeared from my sight. I watched the lights blink, Heard a cuss in the night "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night, Sir Lucas you bonehead, can't you do anything right…..