Sitting quietly looking over my hood.
My Toad will start "she really should".
I gripped the wheel, I pushed the clutch.
And what I got, well, it was not much.
A groaning churn I here from afar.
With clicking following, from out of my car.
I sit dejected and in quiet dismay.
I come to the realization of no Sprite today.
Adapted from Dean Smith.
'87 RX-7 TII: Hit me, I need paint.
MCMLXIX Sprite: Hit me, I need paint.
'90 GS-500E: DO NOT hit me. Though I could use the paint...
If God dropped acid, would he see people?