12/18/2025
’Twas the day before the parade, when all through the shop,
Not an engine was quiet, not a single prop.
The lead boat was waiting, its lights strung with care,
In hopes it would glide through the crowd with some flair.
But trouble was brewing beneath the old hull—
A sputter, a cough, something terribly dull.
The mayor cried out, “We can’t lead the parade!
Without this boat running, the magic will fade!”
Then in strode the crew from aarons outboard’s,
With toolboxes shining like bright Christmas swords.
Aaron himself, with a grin ear to ear,
Said, “Don’t you all worry—we’ve got it this year.”
They rolled up their sleeves, they dove right inside,
Checking spark plugs and cables with holiday pride.
The wrenching and clanking rang warm through the air,
Like elves in a workshop with outboard repair.
The clock kept on ticking, the daylight grew thin,
But the crew kept on working with wide, steady grins.
At last came a rumble, a smooth humming sound—
The kind that says power and Christmas all bound.
The mayor cheered loudly, the townsfolk all beamed,
The boat was now running far better than dreamed.
With garlands and ribbons and lights glowing bright,
It sparkled like starlight on that winter night.
And so Christmas morning, the parade led the way,
With the boat shining proudly in festive display.
The crowd clapped and whistled, the children all roared,
“For the heroes who saved it—aarons outboard’s!”
And the crew waved back warmly, their work now complete,
As the boat glided forward down holiday streets.
For nothing says Christmas like teamwork and cheer—
And a well‑running outboard this time of year.