My 62 Pontiac was a mighty machine,
low and wide and mean with 425 horse ready,
As we cruised the neighborhood, every eye would stop.
It was a a convertible, electric blue, white vinyl top.
It had mag wheels and glowing lights to show them off.
It made the older people scoff but to me and my teenage friends
it was the living end.
We washed it twice a day or more.
We fed it gasoline and oil and polished every spot.
We lived within the confines of that car
and while it lasted, we were hot.
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