Almost colorful. Round tires, hard as your smile. Firm body, stylish. The wipers can wipe dried leaves out of sight. Great lights, big. Its name has the same number of letters as my worst description of you. The license plate can be a dinner plate, if need be. I see dead words in it talking like humans driving themselves crazy at 120mph. It smells leather in some parts. Other parts smell like engine smell. The rear-view mirror can't view the rear. A bear once bumped against it. It has been through natural disasters, like stormy arguments. It runs on historical element, fossil fuel. It has windows, square as souls.