I looked dowm the road at the rusty, old, beat up chevy sitting in my neighbors yard. It was red with white trim. It's back left finder was rusted out and the grass beneath the truck was yellow, most likely from all of the oil that had leaked over the years. You could tell that is was herd on gas just by looking at it and every time it was drivin an iceburg melted in the north pole. It had alot of dents in the bed and tailgate. Perhaps it was somebodys tree truck or maybe someone just gave it a really hard life. On the left front finder there was a grey patch probably somebodys attempt to patch another rust spot.
I walked up and peered inside the window. The red leather interior was in perfect condition. The seats had no holes and there wasnt a single crack in the dashboard. The chrome stickshift was as shiny as ever. Even though the truck looked rough on the outside, I could tell it meant something to my neighbr. It was all he had. behind the wheel he felt young again, happy. The truck didnt look like much but i still rasn just as smooth as ever. Everytime he got in and started the truck and heard the sound of the 460 engine he wasnt old or in pain. He didnt think of how he was going to get the money to fill his prescriptions now that he got laid off. No, he was happy behind the wheel and that alone made the ugly truck beutiful.