“Even if the car is painted blue, it doesn’t mean it is always a the hue of you” Gun Roswell
There, in the streets, it stood parked, right there in the busy hoods, the old girl of a thing, the blue car, from the seventies or something, self cared and well preserved, even if it wasn’t much to look at. No ‘ohs’ or ‘ahs’ from the passers by, maybe sometimes, a hint of smile, but mostly considered a heap of a rust bucket, to be thrown all the way to the town of Nantucket.
But the owner of said vehicle, defended the tiny car quite maniacal, as it had won the heart and soul of the keeper so bold, daring to take this vessel from the beyond and keep it safe from wind and storm, whenever they were not driving along, the busy streets singing along to old tunes as heard then and now, on the radio.
It may be a tiny old and blue car, but it will drive you so far, or at least as far as you need to go, even if it may be quite slow, but hey, where is they hurry anyway? Just take a seat, buckle up tight and then, well, drive!