This is my Camaro. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

My Camaro is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.

Without me, my Camaro is useless. Without my Camaro, I am useless. I must drive my Camaro true. I must drive straighter than my opponent who is trying to beat me. I must pass him before he passes me.

My Camaro and I have love knowing that what counts in driving is not the cylinders we fire, the noise of our exhaust, nor the smoke we make. We know that it is the E.T. that counts. My Camaro is human, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its sight glasses and its four barrels.

I will keep my Camaro clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other, because I have ground so much of the metal, rust and grime of this piece of shit in to my blood that I should have a license plate on my ass.