Ode to the Cars

Ode to His Cars

A Jetta, a Cobra, and then there’s the truck.

Kelly keeps repeating “Brian, what the f*!#?”

“You’ll never understand. I refuse to explain.”

So I bite my lips and I try to refrain.

Some days they’re working. Most days they ain’t.

One day it’s the tires. The next it’s the paint.

At least they look clean ‘cause you wash yours each day.

But my Honda? Once white, it’s now brown and gray.

“I love you, Kelly, but I love my cars more.”

Can’t say I haven’t heard that one before!

Your three come in handy, if we’re not going far.

But more than 10 miles? We’ll just take my car.

We can’t take the Cobra if it’s raining that day.

The truck’s windows roll up only half way.

The Jetta will smoke and it might overheat.

And then we’ll just have to get there by feet.

Despite this frustration, I love you so much.

I want a house, a dog, and kids, and such.

But this dream of mine may never come true,

So a ten car garage will just have to do.

(…and I’ll just park my Honda in the driveway.)
 

*These three cars will one day be the death of me. Or my relationship. I think I will start a support group for wives and girlfriends of car-obsessed men.