Written by: Chuck Berry Dear Dad, don't get mad, What I'm asking for Is by the next semester Can I get another car? This one here is sick'ning On a wide dual road. I might as well be walking As to drive this old Ford. Almost everyntime I try To go and pass a truck, If I ain't goin' down hill, Dad, Im, out of luck. And even if I get by, It's still a rugged risk, The way this old Ford Keep a hitting and miss. Last week when I was driving On my way to school, I almost got a ticket 'Bout a freeway traffic rule. It's now a violation Driving under forty-five, And if I push to fifty, This here Ford will nosedive. Dad, I'm in great danger Out here trying to drive. This Ford wiggles When I'm approaching forty-five/ I have to nurse it along Like a little suffering pup, And cars whizzing by me, Dad, look like I'm backing up. She just don't have the appetite For gas somehow, And Dad, I got both carburetors Hooked up on it now. I tried to hook another To see if I'd do a little good, But ain't no place to put it 'Less I perforate the hood. So Dad, send the money, See what I can see, Try to find a Cadillac, Sixty-two or three. Just something that won't worry us To keep it on the road. Sincerely, your loving son, Henry Junior Ford.