Prompt: Write from the perspective of your car
She’s singing again: loudly and badly. She’s hitting my stirring wheel to the beat of the music as it pounds through my speakers with a slight reverb. The sun streams through my window, and she moves my visor in a futile attempt to shade her eyes. Dust kicks up under my tired and gnats hit my windshield as we fly past the lake. She pulls the lever next to the wheel to clean the grime off and promises to do a more thorough job on our next pit stop for gas, which will be soon, as I am getting older and don’t get the same mileage I used to.
I don’t have the poise and grace of the newer models I see about town, or the power and presence of the trucks and SUVs I see on this old desert road, but she doesn’t seem to mind my faded paint or dented face. And so we drive on.