Granddaddy's Chevrolet

My granddaddy was a runner, drove a '57 Chevrolet

Rain or shine for his brothers, spotted my grandmother, saying it put him in the grave

A couple of generations later, it got passed to my cousin and me

We ran that firewater cross the Carolina border to them towns down in Tennessee

Might've been the burning of them white wall tires or the chance we could get caught

But under the cover of the midnight moon, I swore we had it all

When we would drive

Hearts like Detroit still couldn't feel more alive

That asphalt paved a path to freedom

We were somewhere redlining on a prayer, between heaven and hell to pay

We were thunder in the dark, white lightning in a jar, in granddaddy's Chevrolet

She'd shine like a brand new copper belt of steel, still rolls like she's fresh off the line

Just a little old grocery getter, Lord never knew no better, hiding in plain sight

And a twenty-gallon tank where the spare used to sit

And a switch you'd flip to hide the plate

And when the sun went down, them horses came out

Kill the lights, cut the curves

Hit the gas, forget the breaks

When we would drive

Hearts like Detroit still couldn't feel more alive

That asphalt paved a path to freedom

We were somewhere redlining on a prayer, between heaven and hell to pay

We were thunder in the dark, white lightning in a jar, in granddaddy's Chevrolet

In granddaddy’s Chevrolet

On a late-night run, as the weather went south

We were hauling down White Bridge Road

We hit that curve as the rain came down

And only one of us made it back home

Now it's gone, and all I want

Is to drive

Hearts like Detroit still couldn't feel more alive

That asphalt paved a path to freedom

We were somewhere redlining on a prayer, between heaven and hell to pay

We were thunder in the dark, white lightning in a jar, in granddaddy's Chevrolet