It was long and gold with a honeycomb grill,
And something inside it, wouldn't let it stand still.
It had white leather buckets, and a four on the floor,
When I stepped on the gas, it would start to roar.
The gauge said 160, man could it go,
There was nothing faster than my GTO.
I would cruise down the streets, with the ragtop down,
Turning every head in our quiet little town.
I know I'll never see it's like again,
But wonderful memories filter through my brain.
The luckiest men that you'll ever know,
Are the ones that have owned, a GTO.
5/17/12 Alton Texas
What a car! .I used my son's while he was away in the army.Wow! Thanks for the memory. I truly enjoyed this flashback
Your GTO sounds wonderful, though I'm afraid I don't know what one is! ! A motorbike perhaps?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh my gosh! ! ! Yes, indeed, awesome! ! ! I love tose old Goats! The old Pontiacs are the best! Great One Juan. Love it.