Ragtop Ruminations

This song evolved from a short story in my book; Tales from Mananaville. Ragtop Ruminations” [Verse 1] – (Youth + destiny) Well maybe it’s the moon, Or that damn Auriga star, But somethin’ in my zodiac Said, “Kid, you need a car.” Not a normal ride with a roof and sense— No, my fate had other plans… For a sixteen-year-old Sagittarius With a hundred bucks and shaky hands. Next thing that you know I’m drivin’ An ancient English Ford with evil machinations But all that mattered, to me then Was the top went up and down, And that gave me, adolescent aspirations [Chorus] ’Cause I was born for a ragtop, Raised for the wind, Cursed by the stars To start all over again. From the midnight moon To the Mazatlán heat, Every leakin’ soft-top story Still feels sweet. Yeah, call it fate or foolish temptation— These are my Ragtop Ruminations. [Verse 2] – (Early marriage + dune buggy escape) Married young with kids in tow, Pushin’ that station wagon slow— But I found a dune buggy with no damn top, And drove that thing like I was runnin’ from a cop Every chance I got. Yeah, this isn’t practical, Never pretended to be— But with wind in your hair You feel a little free. And every parent knows the truth: Sometimes two-seat therapy Saves your youth. [Verse 3] – (Triumph + sensual drives) Then came that orange Triumph, Little Spitfire on the prowl. Could touch the road with my fingertips, Drove smooth, broke down, sometimes ran foul Gas stations loved it, Mechanics too— But those summer-evening midnight drives? Man… they still feel true. Crickets singin’, warm air kissin’, Fresh farmland soil smellin’ sweet and strong— Every mile felt like dancin’ With a mate that never let a curve go wrong. [Chorus – Repeat] Yeah, I was born for a ragtop, Built for the breeze, Chasin’ backroads, Doin’ life as I please. From the Triumph’s whine To the Fiat’s frustration— Here come my Ragtop Ruminations. [Verse 4] – (Fiat, Jeepsters, and Mexico) Bought a baby-blue Fiat Spyder, Lord, the jokes wrote themselves: “Fix it Again, Tony” —yeah, they laughed from the shelves. But drivin’ those Redwoods in early May? Brother, that Fiat knew foreplay. Then the Jeepsters came callin’: One rusty, one bright yellow, Perfect rigs for Mexico, Sun-burned, wild, and mellow. Drove the malecón at midnight, Humid air and wipers on— Me and that Jeepster Held together till dawn. [Verse 5] – (The great trade + LeBaron years) Sold the yellow beast with a heavy heart, Guy showed up in a Fiat twin— Same make, same year, same art. We traded keys right there and then… You tell me that’s not fate, my friend. Then a white LeBaron came along, Smooth as a promise, wild and strong— Took it all the way to Mazatlán, Ignoring the rules in the travel packet, Saying, “They don’t mean us,” As we punched through the blackness. [Bridge] – (The Stars Made Me Do It) So if you’re wonderin' why I do it— Why I keep buyin’ cars that drip and groan— Why I park on the malecón And let high-tide waves Come crashin’ home— Don’t blame logic, Don’t blame the price, Don’t blame practical inclination… Hell no— Blame the damn constellation. [Verse 6 – The Silver Finale] And now here I am today, Still cruisin’ like a kid at play, Behind the wheel of a silver Spyder— A Mitsubishi Eclipse GT, Purrs, a bit when I’m inside her. Rides like a dream, Goes like a sin, Way too impractical For Mazatlán’s wind. But when that coastal spray Splashes over my seat, I just laugh at the madness— Yeah, that’s life in a ragtop suite. Some folks point and shake their heads, Say it’s foolish, reckless, odd… But I’m still blamin’ Auriga For this lifelong, top-down flaw. [Final Chorus – Updated] ’Cause I was born for a ragtop, Stamped by the sky, A little impractical, But damn—do I fly. From leakin’ roofs To constellations’ dictation— Even this silver Spyder Joins my ragtop rotation. Yeah, laugh if you want, Call it my odd fixation— These are my Ragtop Ragtop ruminations Ragtop ruminations.