Dead-End Chevrolet

You dear, sweet car
Do you remember when we first met?
You had a For Sale sign on your rear window
And I stood on the other side of the street,
Every morning,
Watching you,
And waiting for the bus to come.
We all thought you were beautiful,
All rugged like that,
Never to move,
For that torn apart red and blue paint
Held you captive there.
Who would leave first, I wondered,
You or I?
Whose daily routine
Would come to an end quicker,
By perhaps a summer vacation,
Or by a terrible winter storm?
But no, you remained there,
Strewn about in that way of yours,
And I still waited,
Taking comfort in you being there
Across that 40 mile-per-hour street,
And knowing that you always would be.