ok, all this talk of nekkid parking garages and such has caused my
cauldron to bubble, bubble, toil and trubble ... i.e., a fetid mind is
a terrible waste. :)
so in that vein, here comes ...

SONNET #43,
From the Portuguese Man-of-War
By Lizzie Barrel Browning .50 cal.

How do I drive thee? Let me count the ways.
I drive thee to the length and breadth and height
My bumpers reach, when feeling, not by sight,
For the ends of other Cars in parking space.
I drive thee by the headlights glowing trace
At Dusk, and Dawn, and yawning dead of Night.
I drive thee slowly, in the lanes upon the Right;
I drive thee quickly, when in Rushing Hour's Race.
I drive thee with a passion, somewhat loose;
Like comfy briefs, my van upholds my faith.
I drive thee with a verve I seldom choose
In other cars! -- I drive thee for the Smiles
And Tears and all the Strife --- and if I choose,
I shall but drive thee more, for years and miles.