We love our cars, not only to take us from one place to another,
But more like an object of desire, like a peculiar type of lover.
We polish them, wax them or treat them to a mud bath,
We put in little things to personalize them like arts and craft.
We call them pet names and with a tear trade them in,
We fondly recall them, like a departed relative, like some kind of kin.
We speed in them and do wheelies and spin out of control,
We spend a fortune on them and add fixtures to them, a financial toll.
And we will them to the next generation and expect them to be glad,
We have seen cars go through morphing as they have been subjected to a fad.
The fins of the fifties, the GPS of today, the button ignition are examples of this,
We even tune the objects of desire up and give our auto mechanics a list.
And just as the car is about to be paid off, we trade her in for a newbie,
It loses ten percent of value as you leave the lot, mazel tov.