Coppers waved, �cos I missed the sign
They said "If you�ll be so kind...
Your license!"
Well I opened the window, and I peered outside
I could hardly see with these eyes
that SUV, cremosin, that crashed, into another five

I don�t know what to do now, or how it feels to go
I guess that�s an experience I do not like to know
�Cos for eighty-four years I�ve been driving my Ford from Henry
Eighty-four years of changing lanes by heart
to cut off younger drivers when they think the road�s for CART
Now I got to get used to not driving my Ford from Henry

We grew up together, a man and his car
We left our skidmarks at every bar
Me and A-Ford
Now there�s rust through the door, and the headlights blink
Just for a moment, I coughed in sink
A big limousine honked loudly, as they passed me and "winked"

I don�t know what to do �cept, retiring my hat
I guess there�s a good reason but I�m feeling kinda flat
�Cos for eighty-four years I�ve been driving my Ford from Henry
Eighty-four years of turning left at whim
To you that�s suicidal but my wit is rather dim
Now I got to get used to not driving my Ford from Henry

So I kicked back and poured me a brew
And I said to self, most this do
Drive the A-Ford
See the license is gone, but we�re still here
You know I�ve survived in it for eighty-four years
And the big depression disappeared

I DO know what to do now, �cos parking on the bench
to me is not an option, I�m a driving �ber-mench
And for eighty-four years I�ve been known as the driving malice
Eighty-four years and mostly on the road
Try tell me I must stop and you will hear me lock and load
�Cos I�ll never fall back, I�ll keep leading them freeway rallys

I will never retire from being a driving malice!