My first car was a Pontiac; Winding down County Road 577, Hand atop wheel, A boy and his machine, Letting snow swoop by like Hyperspace. I miss those quiet rides. But dreams dissolve, evolve, And I’ve another tangent Upon the tip of my Tongue – Something, somewhere, Somewhen, fitting,
And prior another attempt at sleep.
A play on a "Boards of Canada," song, and only because I remember listening to, "'84 Pontiac Dream," in my '88 while learning lost in more than one way come the weathered county roads of Michigan.