My Dead Dad's Dodge

Bench seat torn on the driver side

Burn mark on the dash from his old late nights

Key still sticks, you gotta jiggle it twice

Like he's reminding me

(this thing's mine, not yours)

Coffee stain map in the glovebox fold

Registration card with his name in bold

Smell of grease and winter cold

Rides shotgun every time

I turn that chrome

My dead dad's Dodge, rattling down this road

Every dent, every scratch, every story he told

I drive too fast, like I'm chasing his ghost

Windows down, let the hard wind blow

My dead dad's Dodge, it's the way back home

Radio locked on some old talk show

He'd yell at the air, then laugh real low

I leave it there when I’m driving alone

Arguing with static

like he might answer back

Receipt from '09 at the corner store

Circle around my name in blue ink scrawl

"Teach him to drive" in the margin scrawled

Guess this rusted ride

was the plan all along

My dead dad's Dodge, rattling down this road

Every dent, every scratch, every story he told

I drive too fast, like I'm chasing his ghost

Windows down, let the hard wind blow

My dead dad's Dodge, it's the way back home

Headlights on that empty lane

I talk out loud, say his name

"Would you hate the way I changed?"

(engine hums, I wait)

My dead dad's Dodge, rattling down this road

Every dent, every scratch, every story he told

I drive too fast, like I'm chasing his ghost

Windows down, let the hard wind blow

My dead dad's Dodge, yeah, it feels like both

A heavy grief

and a hand on my shoulder

driving me home