Sing with me…
He bought her.'62 Corvette C1.Red body.White coves.Chrome shining.Sixty-four years old.Gray hair and all.Said he only wanted to cruise.Yeah...We'll see.Bought me a Corvette,C1, sixty-two,red dress, white sides,man, look at that view.Five-three V8,three-fifty horses inside,turn that key one time,whole garage comes alive.What a ride,what a lady,old-school beauty,still lookin' crazy.Sixty-four years,still stealing the show,but something ain't right...Hold up.I know.Looked her up,looked her down:"Girl...you need some heelswhen we hit this town."And that's where trouble started.He went online.Just to look.Sure.Click one,click two,then the chrome came through.Twenty-inch wheels,brand-new shoes.My head said, "No."My heart said, "Go."Five minutes later:ORDER CONFIRMED.Bolted 'em on,rolled her outside,gray-haired ladywith a whole new stride.Red dress shining,chrome heels bright,V8 talkingto the city night.I said:"C'mon, baby...let's take those heelsoutside."Red Corvette,chrome on her feet,rolling through New York,bringing heat to the street.Top down,city lights,V8 humming between the walls.She ain't hiding those gray hairs.She owns 'em all.My Corvette with the gray hair,my Corvette built like a champ.Sixty-four years,still standing right there,V8 heartbeatmake the whole block stare.My Corvette,my Corvette,chrome heels hitting that city street.My Corvette,my Corvette,old lady?Man, please.Red light.I'm chilling.Hands on the wheel.Then black Porschepulls up clean to my side.Okay.I see you.Actually...Nah.I don't see you.I don't hear you.I don't know you.I'm minding my business.ThenVRRRAAM.Really?VRRRAAM.Dude keeps revving,creeping ahead,rolling back,trying to get in my head.Me?I'm cool.My Corvette?Just sitting there.V8 going:rum... rum... rum...Like an old ladylooking over her glasses:"Kid...you sure?"Porsche kept talking.Driver kept ignoring him.Corvette heard everything.I'm waiting.He's revving.I'm waiting.He's moving.Still red.Easy, baby.Still red.Wait...Wait...GREEN.Curtain came down,whole street woke up.Foot hit the floor,V8 stood up.Rear end dropped,chrome caught light,sixty-four yearsjust took flight.First.Second.Chrome heels bite.Three-fifty horsespulling all night.I ain't saying much.She knows what to do.Old-school ladyjust flew right through.Whole thing lastedone, two, three.Quick little glancein the mirror from me.Where's that Porsche?Oh.There it is.Funny...looked bigger at the light.But that wasn't eventhe best part.He wasn't alone.Girl in the passenger seat.I caught that face.She looked ahead.Then looked at him.Then looked at me.Back at him again.No words.Not one.Didn't need 'em.That face said:"So...what was that?"Me?I looked straight ahead.Remember...I wasn't racing anybody.Right?Right.My Corvette with the gray hair,my Corvette built like a champ.Sixty-four years,still bringing that heat,young Porsche talking,old-school owning the street.My Corvette,my Corvette,chrome heels, V8 beat.My Corvette,my Corvette,old lady?Man, please.Next red light.Here we go again.I stop.Couple seconds later...black Porsche.Pulls up beside me.Quiet.No revving.No jumping.No creeping.Nothing.Now he's looking straight ahead.Don't see me.Don't hear me.Don't know me.Hmm...I know that move.I look at my Corvette.She's just sitting there.Rum...rum...rum...Calm.Gray hair.Red dress.Twenty-inch chrome heels.Sixty-four years old.Nothing left to prove.Then it hit me:Not every grandmaneeds a rocking chair.Some of 'em...got a V8.My Corvette with the gray hair,my Corvette built like a champ.Born in sixty-two,still owning the night,gray-haired lady,but the fire burns bright.My Corvette,my Corvette,red dress, chrome heels, V8 beat.My Corvette,my Corvette,sixty-four...still owning the street.He said he bought herjust to cruise.Well...technically...he did.