She's not at all flashy
in fact, she's quite plain
She'll never turn heads
but we can't complain
She starts every morning
with nary a fuss
She's much more convenient
than catching the bus
She has two cup holders
luggage fits in her boot
Her horn isn't raucous
just a cheery Toot, Toot!
With two she's quite comfy
four's more of a squeeze
But finding a parking spot?
Now that is a breeze!
Her engine is spunky
though lacking in power
We surmise four squirrels
just scamper for hours
The PIF isn't bothered
with the need to belong
Confident and Cheerful
she tootles along
When traffic is horrid
she scoots in and out
Leaving the AUDIs
with no shred of clout
She takes us to castles
grand buildings of old
Crisscrossing the country
then back again home
Not all cars get names
but the PIF is unique
Without her our lives
would be rather bleak
So raise up a glass
to our tiny friend
The Suzuki Swift
on which we depend
PS The PIF is my sister Jennifer and her husband, Jason's car, while they are teachers at an international school in Papa, Hungary. Small, curvy roads require small cars, and with gasoline at $16 a gallon, the smaller the better. It is a rare car that inspires poetry, even bad poetry, but the PIF, named for her license plate, is indeed a gem. (: