A popular saying goes “what we drive says a lot about who we are”

And I wonder what people think of him when he drives me up to their gates

I hate to think they somehow see him as a pauper

Is that why the security guard at the place he visited yesterday directed him to park on the side of the road a few meters away and ushered the driver of the Benz GLE into the compound

I’ve served him for many years and no one seems to give me some accolades 

All they see now is his frequent visits to the mechanic 

And the tired look on his face when he parks

I can always hear his sigh of relief as though he had been driving with all of his soul and might

There’s little he can do now except for his occasional promise of an upgrade to himself

Till then, the sound of my engine clanking remains music to his ears