You and I have shared nearly 123,000 miles together over these last five years. You're always filthy, trash piled up in every nook and cranny. You get great gas mileage but I keep having to replace the brake pads; maybe that's my fault, not yours.
You listen to me sing as loud as I want to any music that I want. You never complain. You've been with me through wrecks and heartbreaks, happiness and fights. You've taken me down roads I've never been before, been there with me when I was lost and had no cell service. You've picked up friends, drove across states to see familiar faces with me. You've let me cry and lean on you when I couldn't break down in front of anyone else.
You always remind me I'm running late but somehow get me where I need to be. You're neglected but still you push on. You hold my babies, my most precious cargo, their toys and blankets and dreams laid out on your backseat. You hold so much to be so little.
You never let me down, except for when you can't help yourself. You've been backed into things, slammed into guardrails, driven under fences and left in the snow. You watch me ride around with the windows down pondering the beauty of life and nature and you always play what I need to hear on your radio when I need to hear it most.
You are the best, and even though I look forward to moving on to something bigger and better, you've been my companion, my constant for almost six years. I can't imagine moving on, letting you go. There's no one quite like you. And for that I think you. Thanks for being there for me. You see me at my most vulnerable, the real me. The one who sings at stoplights and unbuckles her pants when they're too tight. The one who's not afraid to fart or burp in (if no one is riding with us); the one who can't not tear up at Darius Rucker songs and Lady Gaga songs. You see me every day and you accept me completely. Why can't the rest of the world be like that?
You listen to me sing as loud as I want to any music that I want. You never complain. You've been with me through wrecks and heartbreaks, happiness and fights. You've taken me down roads I've never been before, been there with me when I was lost and had no cell service. You've picked up friends, drove across states to see familiar faces with me. You've let me cry and lean on you when I couldn't break down in front of anyone else.
You always remind me I'm running late but somehow get me where I need to be. You're neglected but still you push on. You hold my babies, my most precious cargo, their toys and blankets and dreams laid out on your backseat. You hold so much to be so little.
You never let me down, except for when you can't help yourself. You've been backed into things, slammed into guardrails, driven under fences and left in the snow. You watch me ride around with the windows down pondering the beauty of life and nature and you always play what I need to hear on your radio when I need to hear it most.
You are the best, and even though I look forward to moving on to something bigger and better, you've been my companion, my constant for almost six years. I can't imagine moving on, letting you go. There's no one quite like you. And for that I think you. Thanks for being there for me. You see me at my most vulnerable, the real me. The one who sings at stoplights and unbuckles her pants when they're too tight. The one who's not afraid to fart or burp in (if no one is riding with us); the one who can't not tear up at Darius Rucker songs and Lady Gaga songs. You see me every day and you accept me completely. Why can't the rest of the world be like that?
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| Thanks little Chevy -- if I lived near a levy, I'd totally drive you there, too. |
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