A Classic, man

My friend, they don't make them like this anymore, let me tell you man, and don't listen to all that "malaise" era" malarkey, that's all shit...at least with this one—some people get a lemon and get sour, haha! But then tell me why it's still cruisin', fifty years young, damn near 30 billion miles on the odometer (and maybe it's more—they love to roll the miles back on those things these days, in this place, especially)! So maybe it's not winning races between lights on Biscayne Blvd these days (and if it could talk, it might try to tell you it won the Indy 500 and the grand prix—folks love to ham up their legend, and there were no phones back then recording and soiling the fun), but that was never this hunk's O anyways—this here is a late-night cruiser, baby! These days, it's more of a Saturday morning affair with this one, but back in the day this thing was picking up babes from all sorts of hideouts across town! This thing had a reputation, its vibrations would go out like an earthquake through the neighborhood, and then all the girls would come running out—hair in curlers, bata de casa, and much less than that if they had to and the stars were aligned... This thing was JT, man, let me tell you...what? yeah of course they've been cleaned, but you'd be right to think those back seats have got their mileage, too...] mean, how else is a young man supposed to test out the suspension? you know, things these days, they come back around, in style I mean. They're always taking our style from the old days and you see kids wearing it all of a sudden, after 30 years of sneering, they're asking to dig around in your record collection—or is it CD's now?—I can't keep up. Some of them are lugging around freaking TYPEWRITERS, can you believe it? I guess they can't come up with anything original these days...I blame the internet, the social media, you know...but, ah...let me not get into that or this old man will ramble past his bedtime. But listen—this thing's got character. It ain't made of plastic. sure...it could use a paint job...maybe a tuneup, some electrical work...the transmission is starting to slip... but there's a bigger picture, and it's this: this thing is still banging, it's still going, it loves to drive and it'll get you where you need to go...if you let it. Put your trust in it, and it'll even take you to places you never imagined, places you've only heard about second-hand in dreams! Just ask the owner—once upon a time he was creeping through these miami streets, tank filled with poetry, being everywhere but belonging nowhere, to no one, living from sunset to sunrise like a vagabond—some fine muchachas in the cockpit here and there, sure, but none with ears to hear the real verses of his heart... but my man...he kept going, kept on that road until he'd learned the map like the back of his hand, learned the right ways and the wrong ways and the back alleys with treasure and the back roads with danger, keeping his hand on the wheel and his trust in the wheels...and now? He's got a wife who loves him, his queen in her passenger seat throne, and two beautiful kiddos causing mayhem in the back, and everywhere he goes the people know him, sing his praises, sing along to his poems! Oh yes...ask him if he could have imagined that way back when, when it was just the man and his car writing a trail of sorrows in the moonlight and glow of neon on the lud...but before you do that, you've got to hear something really special. Go ahead, sit there. just feels right doesn't it? Key's in the ignition. Go ahead, you know what to do, go ahead and listen: EBLIKK LJK LACK LICK CLACK CLICK CLACK CLICKCLACK Like music to the ears. Happy Birthday Brother,