The Perfect Car

I wanted something low and sleek.
I wanted something fast.
A car like no one I know has,
a car with lots of class.

Yeah, when I drive that fine machine
each head would turn to see.
You’d glimpse the envy in their eyes.
How they’d wish they were me.

Yeah, that’s the kind of guy I am,
the coolest guy around,
who drives the fastest car, by far,
a missile on the ground.

And as I looked around the lot
a sports car caught my eye.
The sticker price was not too bad.
(In truth, it was real high.)

Then someone grabbed me by the arm
and pushed me to the right.
She pointed at this vehicle
that just came into sight.

I stopped right there and hung my head.
No, no, don’t let it be.
That’s not what I was looking for.
That’s not the car for me.

I’d never drive something like that.
In fact, I’d bet my life.
She said that’s just the one for us,
my charming little wife.

She said you’re not the young stud now.
You’re just a family man.
And this is what we have to buy.
This perfect mini-van.

No, no, no, no, I'm begging you.
Please say it isn’t so.
We bought the mini-van, of course.
I didn’t drive it, though.

I let her drive it off the lot
and take it home that night.
And me? I hid behind the seats
and hunkered out of sight.

Oh, what the hell, what can I do?
Sometimes you just can’t win.
The neighbors all drive mini-vans
and now I’ll fit right in.

Sob