This is my car.
I’ve owned it since the summer after my freshman year.
I was scared to drive it at first.
The air conditioning didn’t work.
And there was no radio.
But best believe it was still bitchin.
I remember at about 45,
When I used to drop it down to second.
The car fishtailed when pedal was metal.
And even from 65 to third,
Best believe I had those tires screechin’.
Oh once those tires grew from 8 to 10,
The car got sticky.
Picky I then became,
Gripping and boosting along my way.
For the death is not near,
But the hiatus ever so clear.
Soon she shall be back,
Big fast and black.
