March 17, 2010
By Anonymous

As I shut the door
On my first set of wheels,
I think back to the hard work
that got me this amazing vehicle.

"You need a car?
Yes mom and dad, a car. A fast car.
A cool car. A totally wicked
really awesome car."

I sit back in my seat,
enjoying the comfort,
reliving the arguments
about which car I should get.

"Do not buy me a beat up
piece of junk. For I will simply
go to the nearest dealership
and get some cash for the clunker."

I turn the key
and the engine turns over with a growl.
As I smoothly shift into first gear,
I remember what I wanted first.

"It's gotta be a sports car.
I don't care what company,
as long as its made in Europe.
Europeans make good cars."

Third gear comes
with the tires gripping to the pavement.
The requirements I laid down years ago,
come back to me as I drive.

"It has to be red,
it has to have at least 300 hp,
it has to do 0-60 in under 5 seconds,
and it has to get me girls. Lots of girls."

I'm in fifth gear,
and by now I'm cruising on the highway.
I begin to recollect the list,
of possible first vehicles.

"Ferrari California.
Lamborghini Murcielago.
Porsche 911.
Corvette Zr1."

I really can't thank my parents enough,
for getting me this fantastic machine.
And I'm extremely glad
they didn't listen to a word I said.

The author's comments:
Well. My experiences with getting a car kinda played a little role as inspiration.

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