A True Story

One morning while reading the paper
In search of a new set of wheels
The classifieds had a most curious ad
In their listing of automobiles
I read in suspicious amusement
What seemed like a great stroke of luck
"Corvette Stingray," it said
"Low mileage, bright red, '83 model - Sixty-five bucks"

Well I was used to my newspaper's typos
Still I called up that number straightway
"'Bout that '83 'Vette -- have you sold the thing yet?"
She said, "No, you're my first call today"
I said, "There's been some mistake in the paper
They printed the ad wrong somehow"
"Oh, no," replied she, "they got that from me."
I said, "Don't sell that car, I'm leaving now"
Well her address was in the part of the city
Where I'd ventured just one time or two
Where the doctors, bank presidents
And lawyers are residents
And the houses are massive and new
As I drove up her half-a-mile driveway
There in the heat of the day
In the sunlight it gleamed, the car of my dreams -
Just sixty-five dollars away
Well the interior was made of white leather
It had a 587 V-8
Bow wingspan doors, Hurst four-on-the-floor
And the 8-channel tape deck was great
There was chrome on the fender in an aerodynamic design
A phone, a TV, and it was bogglin' to me
How for sixty-five bucks it was mine
Well I suspected the woman was crazy
To be selling the car at this price
But as we walked down the lane
She seemed perfectly sane - she was charming
And really quite nice
And she smiled in such great satisfaction
As she handed me title and keys
I said, "I've just got to know why you let this thing go -
What's wrong with this car, tell me, please?"
Said she, "I'll be sixty come Tuesday
And I've lived here with my husband Earl
After thirty years wed, and without a word said
He left me for a young teenage girl
With his credit cards here on the table,
I knew that he couldn't go far
Last night from Florida he sent a wire to me, said,
'I need money, dear -sell the car!'"