Originally Posted by Pfunk
For the guys that don't know.....
From Wikipedia:
The song describes a future in which many classes of vehicles have been prohibited by "the Motor Law". The narrator's uncle has kept one of these illegal vehicles (the titular red barchetta sportscar) in pristine condition for some "fifty-odd years" and keeps it hidden at his secret country home (previously a farm before the enactment of the aforementioned Motor Law). During one of his weekly drives, the narrator encounters an "alloy air car" that begins to chase him along the roads. A second such vehicle soon joins the pursuit, which continues until the narrator drives his Barchetta across a one-lane bridge that is too narrow for the air cars. The song ends with the narrator returning safely to his uncle's farm.
The song was inspired by the futuristic short story "A Nice Morning Drive", by Richard Foster and published in the November 1973 issue of Road and Track magazine. The story describes a similar future in which increasingly stringent safety regulations have forced cars to evolve into massive Modern Safety Vehicles (MSVs), capable of withstanding a 50-mile-per-hour impact without injury to the driver. Consequently, drivers of MSVs have become less safety-conscious and more aggressive, and "bouncing" (intentionally ramming) the older, smaller cars is a common sport among some.
Rush lyricist Neil Peart made several attempts to contact Foster while working on the album, but Road and Track did not have an up-to-date address, and Rush were forced to settle for a brief "Inspired by" note in the lyric sheet mentioning the story. In July 2007, Foster and Peart finally made contact with one another; Foster later posted an online account of their journey by motorcycle through the backwoods of West Virginia between stops on Rush's Snakes and Arrows tour. Neil Peart also described the Barchetta like the guitar in the song "2112"
Lyrics:
My uncle has a country place
That no one knows about.
He says it used to be a farm
Before the Motor Law.
And on Sundays I elude the Eyes,
And hop the Turbine Freight
To far outside the Wire
Where my white-haired uncle waits.
Jump to the ground
As the Turbo slows to cross the borderline.
Run like the wind
As excitement shivers up and down my spine.
Down in his barn
My uncle preserved for me an old machine
For fifty-odd years.
To keep it as new has been his dearest dream.
I strip away the old debris
That hides a shining car:
A brilliant red Barchetta
From a better vanished time.
We fire up the willing engine
Responding with a roar.
Tires spitting gravel,
I commit my weekly crime.
Wind
In my hair
Shifting and drifting
Mechanical music
Adrenaline surge...
Well-weathered leather,
Hot metal and oil,
The scented country air.
Sunlight on chrome,
The blur of the landscape,
Every nerve aware.
Suddenly ahead of me
Across the mountainside
A gleaming alloy air-car
Shoots towards me, two lanes wide.
I spin around with shrieking tires
To run the deadly race
Go screaming through the valley
As another joins the chase.
Drive like the wind
Straining the limits of machine and man.
Laughing out loud with fear and hope
I've got a desperate plan.
At the one-lane bridge
I leave the giants stranded at the riverside.
Race back to the farm
To dream with my uncle at the fireside.