I remember the car, the freedom it gave
For going and doing and coming back home.
But it wasn't a statement of who I then was--
No, just my way out; transportation, that's all.
Its sleek glamor, its lines, its sporty appeal
Were irony since they were wasted on me.
I would drive it, just drive like a little old man.
No tickets; just wheels; just my ride--nothing more.
"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Matthew 6:19-21 ESV)
The Chevrolet in the photo reminded me of the era of my first car. Actually, my first car was a 1966 Plymouth Barracuda.