I’m a V8

My car was made in nineteen seventy,
Me in sixty five,
I look at the two of us,
It’s like we’re both alive.
Both approaching middle age,
We scoff at old and young,
Not so slow that we’re disadvantaged,
When it comes to fun.
We both laugh at the new models,
Me at the kids today,
It of power-absolute-ly-every-thing,
And muted interiors of gray.
We both laugh at the old models,
Me of the wrinkly set,
It at the models old and decrepit,
In them no-where you will get.
Our bodies are both showing age,
You’ll find the odd dent,
In places rust is showing through,
And our steering arms are bent.
Our springs are starting to sag a little,
Noises come from our rear,
We don’t respond each and every time,
When us someone tries to steer.
But give us the open road,
Where freedom plays its part,
We’ll show you all a thing or two,
For what matters is the heart.