DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF …
WOW: marble. What does Baby do when she's parked up in the bunker's garage in the dark watches of the night …
disclaimer: I don't own them
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Against the distant strains of a soaring guitar riff, Baby's tyres were soundless as they glided along the marble causeway.
The amber glow of a thousand flaming torches along the route reflected in her gleaming black paintwork as she coasted elegantly towards her ultimate destination.
Ahead of her, on a velvet-coated dais, stood Dean; resplendent in a scandalously revealing toga, a sinful smirk playing on his alluring lips. A laurel crown rested jauntily in his tawny head as he beckoned her toward him and the terracotta urn of premium grade Pennzoil that stood beside him.
Whoever said that cars can't dream?
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