I can imagine you at a much faster pace. Back when Lenny Kravitz ruled the airwaves and ditching school was more of an artform. I can picture you driving – windows down, radio blaring, smiling eyes behind those tinted shades that kept you so hidden. And in the passenger seat, there she is. Your first love. Back then, your biggest concern was what to eat for lunch. And now your world is hindered with phone bills and gas prices. And from all the years of romantic abuse and social neglect, you have regressed into a fraction of what you used to be. Modest, reliable, and worn from the time that has passed, A more honest representation of who you are. All that pressure has done you well. She may have had the Grand Am, but at least I’ve got the Mirage.