Sea of Headlights

I fancy myself–a vehicle of many makers
A barrage of influence speaking to me of the perfect type
It all led me many miles astray
For the vessel of my dreams, as they say
A model for which I have not a gripe

Its as if fate had me rubbernecking for an answer
A curious search with no destination, nor bounds
I felt my radio had gone quiet
My gas pedals attempting to riot
‘Til a particularly fine one had begun to make its rounds

I did not then fathom how I began to overdrive
The shine of its paint is not all its manual contains
But once time had continued to settle
I read the manual more—it had proven its metal
And now my engine, sparked with fire, is what remains

I can no longer brake fast enough to catch my breath
As if there was constant antifreeze dripping from my head
The other cars see it so clearly
Often wondering why I’ve been so weary
While you continue to crank my A.C. all the way red

Yes! I know you are the model I seek
Every facet, in and out, makes it clear
With the countless speed bumps I hit
It was an awkward detour I must admit
But I feel our day of selection drawing near

The sea of headlights gave way to a stable path
For at every turn, it sought to find me colliding with you
Now, with a sky smothered in oil
Its astral glitter defining our locking eyes
Tell me—is your engine overdriving too?