Sometimes she runs sometimes she don't more than once she let me on the side of the road
The older she gets the slower we go but there ain't nothin' wrong with the radio
She needs a carburetor a set of plug wires
She's ridden me around on four bald tires
The wipers don't work and the horn don't blow
But there ain't nothing wrong with the radio
I've got sixteen speakers crossing my back dash
Little bobbing dog watching every body pass
Dual antennas whippin' in the wind
