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Ballad of What I Thought Was Supposed To Be a Luxury Sedan
Oh Audi, sweet Audi,
My lovely little car,
You have your fair share of dents
And your engine is somewhat subpar.
You need four new tires,
And an engine belt too,
And the trim that hangs off you
Can’t be fixed with just glue.
Your steering is not straight,
And your gears sometimes slide,
And your axles need realigning;
Your wheels spin slightly on their sides.
Your carpets are stained,
Some of your dash lights have quit,
And the driver’s side floor mat
Has a fish hook stuck in it.
(No one knows.)
Yet your engine runs well,
And your handling’s great,
Which is quite fun to exploit,
In the winding canyons of this state.
And your trunk space is crazy,
Big enough to fit me,
And part of the seat can pull down
So you can fit skiis.
I love you so far,
And though it’s a close call,
I think maybe the Germans
Had it right after all.
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Most teenagers look forward to getting a car when they turn 16. I was no different. I dreamt for years of what it would be like to finally inherit my late father's 1999 Audi A6. As is the case with many fantasies, my Champagne-colored dream car was hiding a few not-so-attractive secrets. I wrote this poem a few months after I first got the keys to the A6. Almost two years later, we're still together--dents and all. But, as is true with every other relationship, there were a few bumps in the road.