her engine revs and it is quite frightening.
The distant sound of the sky and road rumbling,
it is her purring, grumbling, thundering.
She is a Thunderbird and the roads are her sky,
she is my wings with her I can soar, I can glide.
I can cruise calmly along the highways,
riding along on her thunderous shockwaves.
I navigate a silver speeding lightening streak
across avenues, over highways and down any street.
She is swift, she is strong, she is loud,
I am pleased, I am glad, I am blessed to be proud.
She is a bird fueled by the heavens roar,
electric power and gasoline driven to soar.
Thundara rides the lightening from the sky to the earth,
landing on four wheels rumbling at birth.
She is my wheels and she is made from lightening,
a rumbling 1993 Ford Thunderbird perfect for driving.