The Life of a Roadster

I’m fresh off the assembly line

Shiny, bright and red

I’m sitting in the showroom

I can surely turn a head.

Off I go for a test drive



He signs on the dotted line

I am headed for his home

I’m looking mighty fine.



He makes room in the garage

I have my first place of my own

He waxes me every weekend

And I’m feeling right at home.



For years we go everywhere together

He is always by my side

Then he leaves me on the driveway

And pulls a new car inside.



I sit out in the weather

I fade and lose my shine

He gives me to his teenage son

My gears they lurch and grind.



I try my best to last through his tests

But his demands are high

He guns the engine and squeals the tires

And races side by side.



He eventually tires of me

My knobs are broke

My seats are torn

My engine stalls and chokes.



He pushes me under a tree

The weather is really hot

Kids jump in and they pretend

That I am taking them somewhere I’m not.



I sit like this for many years

Forgotten, abused and ashamed

I used to turn a lot of heads

Now I fill up when there’s rain.



I hear someone approaching

Are they talking about me?

I am so embarrassed about my state

In my gear box there has sprouted a tree.



He says “I will take it”

Money exchanges hands

On four flat tires I try my best

As he pulls me behind the van.



He gets me home and cleans me

Tsk tsks at my disrepair

He slowly but surely transforms me

I can hold my head in the air.



He fixes up my engine

He gets rid of all my rust

He gets me four new tires

I am in the hands of someone I trust.



I am living back in the garage

And again I am turning heads

My chrome is new and shiny

My engine roars and revs.



I am grateful

And I hold my head up high

I want to make him happy

The man who did not pass me by.