Written by Tonya Landers
My frosty gray, lavender gray
ghost of a sweet ride.
'65 was her year. My own birth,
to hers, was 5 years near.
Her interior was white leather,
It was cool, it was hot,
depending on the weather.
She carried my friends, my son, my dad.
We had a blast, but it was more than good times
that we had.
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons
in the sun and the rain and the
snow.
And the smell of her, musty and old.
Gas and grease, oil and tires.
And the scent of love
then and now.
She served me well, faithfully and true.
The day I sold her forever I'll rue.
She's gone, I've lost her. A traitor was I.
I'll regret my loss, till the day I die.
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