I met you on a Tuesday in the mid of the scorching summer heat. You were a unique piece of specimen, a rarity, a classic, and I drove you off that lot that night. And though you were just a broken down trailer I was happy I found you. You were kind of small and shabby and there really wasn’t anything fine about you. You were really cheap and you needed a lot of repairs. But you were all mine and I was all yours and for the first time in my life I was an owner of something.
I remember our first night together; we drove down to the ocean. I was so afraid you might break down along the way but you got me there. We drove right into the ocean and as the warm water touched my feet I knew I was where I was meant to be. The waves crashed down on you like a sinking ship but I got you out just in time. That night I fell asleep in the warmth of your comfort and it felt like a thousand nights in a broken down trailer and I was alright with that.
I lost you on a Friday as the start of autumn began. You were from a small town trailer park and now you’re in a big city shop. I knew you were destined for much bigger things than me. I knew I couldn’t give you all the upgrades you desperately needed so I gave you up. And as I walk this lonely road thinking about you, my arms start to drag, legs start to rattle, my back starts to crack, and my heart starts to squeak. As I fall to my knees I become a broken down trailer. I wonder who’s going to save me now.