I slipped to key into the lock.
The door swung open wide,
Sat in the seat, started it up.
The engine sounded snide.
I clicked on the old stereo,
Cranked it on 'COZ.
The speakers were pounding loud,
They're singing out to me.
I shifted gears, and took off fast,
Laying a patch of black.
White wall tires were screaming high;
Power it did not lack.
Sliding onto highway Seven,
While doing fifty-five,
I was still going much too slow;
Banged into overdrive.
Then up ahead I saw a 'vette,
Color of apple red.
I crept up closer behind him,
Wanting him to feel dread.
I slammed the shift into high gear,
Was making out my will.
My Mustang passed him easily,
Like he was standing still.
Looking in my rearview mirror,
That 'vette was fading fast.
I realized now that in this race,
I would not come in last.
Cruising again at highway speed,
In my rearview mirror,
I could see that apple red 'vette
Had sneaked up on my rear.
He revved it loud. He tried to pass.
I think he blew a seal.
No bitter grimace masked his face,
But then he lost his wheel.
His car spun off into a tree,
He must be dead I trust,
Seeing his life before his eyes,
'Nother one bites the dust.
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