The Ford is my shepherd; I shall not want for a kIA Rio.
He maketh me to drive down blue metal past-yas: he leadeth me beside the double white line’s.
He restoreth my unleaded petrol: he leadeth me in the paths of right-directions, for my fuel gauge’s sake.
Yea, though I stray over the double line’s of death, I will fear no accident: for thou disc-brake’s are with me, and thy air-bag’s and thy power stearing comfort me.
Thou preparest a parking space before me in the presence of mine enemies, thou annointest my head with rear-vision mirror’s; my confidence runneth over.
Surely truck’s and four cylinder’s shall follow me all the day’s of my life: and I will dwell in the driver’s seat forever.
Just an ode to the very modern religion of driving a car of any kind really, depending on how deluded you are as to you and your car’s capabilities, and how fiercely you are willing to defend your religion of driving.