Just two little litres
Of boxer madness
Whine and backfire.
The turbos put up
No fight to spin
And my claim to win
Hinges on the pressure
Of cold air pumping in.
Is it wrong to call this car
My friend?
I could Spend hours
Disassembling you
And solving your puzzles
With the skin of my hands.
Let’s go out tonight.
We’ll find a dirt road
Or climb a mountain
Or attack the asphalt.
We both have the style
My aggressive Subaru.
Growling at strangers
Win or lose.
We face untold dangers.
Outcast by credentials.
We come home.
We sing the blues.
Racing a world that
Makes us feel alone.
I wax your paint.
I polish my boots.