My Automare
You truly are my automare
My four-wheeled bankruptcy
My fuel-injected money pit
Made from steel and reformed shit
A velour upholstered credit card hit
Five gears of utter hell
We got off to the worst of starts
And it went downhill from there
Grinding brakes and groaning springs
Ropey tyres and front wheel spins
These are a few of my least favourite things
But I’ve suffered them, even so
The dodgy dealers who inflicted you on me
Saw me advance for miles
Well they couldn’t have missed me leave for home
They just followed the clouds of belching smoke
As they shared the profits and endless jokes
Of which I was the best punchline
Now you’re the bionic automobile
Cos there’s nothing original of you left
A car that’s running but barely alive
We cannot rebuild you, though Christ, we’ve tried
So I’m stuck with you till the end of time
Till death unto us part
I’d drive you off the edge of a cliff
But you’d conk out halfway down
I pray for a thief to tear us apart
Trouble is, you wouldn’t start
And he’d probably sue me for emotional harm
So like a leech, you stay
You stay there, being my automare
My 16-valve penury
Four wheels causing me endless pain
Tyre pressure, blood pressure - rising the same
You’d make Jeremy Clarkson take the train
And Jenson Button jump a bus
I tried to take you for a part-exchange
But the dealer committed suicide
So into Autotrader you went
Two careful owners and a third on the edge
Of a complete breakdown – you didn’t sell
People just turned up to laugh
Laugh at my rust-ridden automare
My air conditioned last will
But as the rain slashes down on a freezing cold street
And I climb inside you for some warmth and relief
You start first time and drive like a treat
And I get home dry and you don’t miss a beat
Neighbours all shout “your car’s really sweet”
But you’re nothing more than a motorised tease
You grey hair-inducing
Swear word-producing
Worry line-creating
Sleep-deprivating
Irritating, infuriating, personalised
Automare!