Suck down a caramel frappucino in thirty seconds.

Get in the car and roll down the windows.

It's sixty degrees outside and you're kind of cold,

But the wind feels so good, you don't care.

Your ponytail comes out of the rubber scrunchie,

But you're too busy singing along with the Ataris to notice

While "Here In This Diary" blares out of the speakers.

Stop to look at an old 1965 Corvair for sale.

It's the ugliest color of yellow you've ever seen,

And you joke with your dad about it for the rest of the afternoon.

But only on the commercial breaks.

Because when the songs play, you both sing,

And laugh at how bad you sound,

And you keep driving down that pretty, winding country road.