Grease, Grit, & Gasoline

I was watching the news as of lately realized, we are still fighting over oil in 2025. My kind, hardworking late Dad, big Vic, was a mechanic who loved his work. He worked with oil, gasoline, and all those products. He didn't fight over the guy’s gas station down the street. They would shake hands. talk & laugh. The only argument I remember is the time when my dad worked for a real jerk before he bought his own gas station. The jerk boss refused to buy a heater, fan, or AC for my dad’s stall. My dad was not angry. He went to the bank and borrowed money to buy the gas station down the street from his jerk boss. He opened his own gas station. His former jerk boss visited my Dad ready for a fight. My Dad, big Vic, shook his hand, invited him to see his new station. The first thing my dad showed the old boss was his his AC and heater. The guy left. My Dad told him, “Have a wonderful day. Come back anytime.” That was decades ago in another reality of time and space. My Dad just wanted to work hard, take care of his family, and bring home the bacon. So, my friends, I wrote this country song dedicated to my late Dad, big Vic. He was my hero!

My dad was a country man. Simple in his ways, sharp in his mind. He could hear a misfire in an engine like most people hear a knock on the door. But what do most folks did not know? He was also a math whiz and helped me pass algebra when numbers felt like roadblocks. We traded songs on cassette tapes in his later years, our way of staying tuned into each other.

This song is for him.

It is for early mornings at the service station.

For grease under his fingernails and the ding ding that meant business and pride.

It is for a time when work was honest, and music came with hiss and heart.

Grease, Grit & Gasoline is legacy, memory, and melody rolled into one. If you have ever loved someone who taught you how to listen, this song is for you too.

Grease, Grit & Gasoline

Lyrics by Vicki Lawana Trusselli

[Verse 1]

Ding ding, the bell would sing,

Dad wiped grease off a silver ring,

Sun kissed the grit on the service floor,

Dreams rolled in through that station door.

[Chorus]

Grease, grit, and gasoline,

Daddy carved his American dream,

Hands like leather, soul machine-clear,

He heard a car’s heart before it appeared.

[Verse 2]

Out front, polish gleamed in dusty rows,

Impulse buys in the desert glow,

I chased parts through sun-stung heat,

While he blessed engines from head to feet.

The bell would chirp, I’d catch his eyes,

He’d nod like thunder beneath blue skies,

He felt the hum, read every line—

I tuned into people like he did with drive lines.

[Bridge]

Ding ding—a heartbeat in the haze,

Calling us back through golden days,

Ding ding said, “we’re here, we’re whole,”

A hymn of gears and unspoken roles.

[Final Verse]

Now the station’s gone, weeds crack the lot,

But I still hear him in every ticking clock.

Ding ding like a whisper through the steam,

Telling me to chase that dream.

The echo rolls in my chest like gears,

A voice that lives beyond the years,

Hope in oil, haunt in chrome,

Hero in grease, he brought it all home.

Written, created, edited, all that jazz by

Vicki Lawana Trusselli

Trusselli Art

#distrokid