An ode to my first car. |
The Little Pinto That Could I once had a Pinto car, That if you rear ended would explode It had purple tinted windows, And the inside smelled like a commode. It had fake wooden panels, On one side, then the other The left windshield wiper was broken, By my stupid older brother. Sometimes It wouldn’t start, But sometimes when it did The smoke would billow forth, From the tailpipe and trunk lid. It had an eight track player, With one working knob upon it It played Chuck Mangione over and over, It made me want to vomit. The tires, they had no hubcaps, And Often, they’d go flat One time I started my engine, And the fan blade minced a stray cat. But it was my first car, The key to my leaving the nest. And I don’t care who contradicts me, Pintos are the best! This poem was built to be bad. Please help my progress in this contest by rating it one . Thanks! |