My car has over 200,000 miles on it.
When it's clean, it still looks alright on the outside. But it rattles and squeaks from the undercarriage like the Fords from the early 1900's that Goofy drives in those old Warner Bros. cartoons. And if it gives out any time soon, there's not a damn thing I'll be able to do about it.
Sometimes, I’m proud of what I’ve written.
Other times, I’m embarrassed by what I’ve written.
Sometimes, I feel like my dreams are playing tag with me, and not so out-of-reach.
Other times, they seem so far, I feel tired just thinking about them.