A rusty chariot, a clanging beast,
With engine coughs and wheezing feast,
She rumbles on, a weary soul,
Her paint chipped off, a faded goal.
A symphony of rattles loud,
Her steering wheel, a shaky shroud,
The windows leak, the seats are torn,
But still she carries, hope reborn.
Through dusty roads and winding paths,
She navigates, despite the wrath,
Of potholes deep and rain-soaked streets,
She perseveres, with rusty feats.
Her headlights dim, a ghostly gleam,
A testament to time's cruel dream,
Yet still she shines, a beacon bright,
A symbol of resilience, day and night.
So let her rumble, let her sing,
This jalopy, a wondrous thing,
A relic of a bygone age,
With stories etched on every page.
For in her flaws, we find a grace,
A testament to time and space,
A reminder that, even worn and old,
A heart of gold can still unfold.