by Poetry99

© 2001 Dorothy E. Scott, all rights reserved

In the nineteen seventies my vehicle wore a fresh coat of paint, polished. New seat covers were velvet; it was a dream I had cherished. I earned eight hundred dollars; after my beauty was bought every girl wanted a ride. We would make the drag; my heart filled with pride. My canvas convertible top would be pushed back. Letting the wind tickle my hair and sideburns, grayish black. When I married I let my wife drive my red convertible when she was work-bound, Carried off on a large wrecker, my red convertible was broken and bent all around. Wheel axles were broken; there was a shattered front window. After thousands of dollars, my red convertible again made a show. Now my wife and I cruise our favorite drag every available chance. With the bumper sticker, "See Our Red Convertible At First Glance."