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BUT SO WHAT IF I SIMPLY SHOOT?
Monday, April 26, 2004
20 years ago I watched in awe
As my dad drove up the driveway
More than proud to have a brand new family car
30 miles to the gallon
Zero to 60, sometimes
I remember putting down the backseat
And lying on the hatchback
Looking at the sky, watching trees go by
I was the son of a preacher
And he was a rich, poor man
No AC, no FM
And no regrets
In my Chevette
The winter cracked the highway
And we tried to dodge the potholes
He never promised us it would be a gentle ride
He never had a problem though
Keeping it on the narrow road
--Audio Adrenaline--
White and unpolished, bird poo still on its door.
Holes on the sides of the roof, allowing a leak.
Both side mirrors are non-existent, instinct required when changing lanes or doing side parking. A fire extinguisher sticker slapped on the passenger side’s front view, obstructing vision.
Enjoys petrol like free dessert, drinks lots of water to keep cool.
Left back boor dented and unattended.
Accelerator gives engine a roar when stepped on. Who needs a modified exhaust when the original thing sounds louder than the modified one.
Car brake’s hydraulics fails from time to time. Tyres way past its peak of glory. They don’t screech they have to make a sudden stop. They slide to a halt.
Seatbelts don’t make a difference. Always left unbuckled, because they don’t really function anyway.
Loved by car thieves, who visited for three times already.
The radio sits pretty, even thieves don’t want it.
Old and battered, but it still gets me there.
And that’s not all. There’s more: Air cond works only on the right vent, and its shafts are always falling all over the place. Clutch has a similar feel to a bass drum stepper. Risky left window may fall right down and never come up again if carelessly wound. Boot rubber partially sticking out, looking like a tail or flappy rudder.
Unpolished, with some bird poo, like me. Not the best-looking hunk in the world.
Holes on the anterior, like me. Left unattended, evident because of neglect.
Blinded on both sides, like me. Can’t see nuts without aid.
Consumes carbon compounds, like me. Always consuming like it’s free.
Have taken a few knocks, like me. Some still unrepaired.
Loud exhaust, like me. Loud with rubbish, good and bad. Unabashed with criticism, sometimes funny, sometimes not. And proud of it, original and unmodified.
Hard to brake, like me. Once started, always hard to stop.
Unbridled by safety belts, like me. Goes for broke – to make it, or break it
Loved by thieves, like me. They can take anything from me, but one thing they can never touch – heart.
Radio sits pretty, like me. Can’t really dance, and can’t really sing.
Feels old and battered at times, like me. But still knows where it wants to go.
And that’s not all. There’s more. The unenviable, regardless to say, are known and obvious.
But despite all that…
A few still like to ride in my car.
As my dad drove up the driveway
More than proud to have a brand new family car
30 miles to the gallon
Zero to 60, sometimes
I remember putting down the backseat
And lying on the hatchback
Looking at the sky, watching trees go by
I was the son of a preacher
And he was a rich, poor man
No AC, no FM
And no regrets
In my Chevette
The winter cracked the highway
And we tried to dodge the potholes
He never promised us it would be a gentle ride
He never had a problem though
Keeping it on the narrow road
--Audio Adrenaline--
White and unpolished, bird poo still on its door.
Holes on the sides of the roof, allowing a leak.
Both side mirrors are non-existent, instinct required when changing lanes or doing side parking. A fire extinguisher sticker slapped on the passenger side’s front view, obstructing vision.
Enjoys petrol like free dessert, drinks lots of water to keep cool.
Left back boor dented and unattended.
Accelerator gives engine a roar when stepped on. Who needs a modified exhaust when the original thing sounds louder than the modified one.
Car brake’s hydraulics fails from time to time. Tyres way past its peak of glory. They don’t screech they have to make a sudden stop. They slide to a halt.
Seatbelts don’t make a difference. Always left unbuckled, because they don’t really function anyway.
Loved by car thieves, who visited for three times already.
The radio sits pretty, even thieves don’t want it.
Old and battered, but it still gets me there.
And that’s not all. There’s more: Air cond works only on the right vent, and its shafts are always falling all over the place. Clutch has a similar feel to a bass drum stepper. Risky left window may fall right down and never come up again if carelessly wound. Boot rubber partially sticking out, looking like a tail or flappy rudder.
Unpolished, with some bird poo, like me. Not the best-looking hunk in the world.
Holes on the anterior, like me. Left unattended, evident because of neglect.
Blinded on both sides, like me. Can’t see nuts without aid.
Consumes carbon compounds, like me. Always consuming like it’s free.
Have taken a few knocks, like me. Some still unrepaired.
Loud exhaust, like me. Loud with rubbish, good and bad. Unabashed with criticism, sometimes funny, sometimes not. And proud of it, original and unmodified.
Hard to brake, like me. Once started, always hard to stop.
Unbridled by safety belts, like me. Goes for broke – to make it, or break it
Loved by thieves, like me. They can take anything from me, but one thing they can never touch – heart.
Radio sits pretty, like me. Can’t really dance, and can’t really sing.
Feels old and battered at times, like me. But still knows where it wants to go.
And that’s not all. There’s more. The unenviable, regardless to say, are known and obvious.
But despite all that…
A few still like to ride in my car.
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