The car is wearing out, but it gets me where I need to goIt's scratched and has some dents but I don't mindOne hundred fifty thousand miles is a long, long way to goDrove me to the speed limit years.The fan rattles, the upholstery's stained, the left front tire squeaksWe've survived three accidentsBut it's paid for, has new tires, and the engine's going strongCruising through the speed limit years.My gramma told me "Don't ever get old."But there's no good alternative, I'm told.Fifty-five to seventy is a new stage of lifeStarting to develop aches and painsIt's nothing that'll kill me yet, but it's making me slow downRiding through the speed limit years.What's gonna happen to my family?And what about little old me?​I take five kinds of medicines and physical therapyBut I can't sleep through the night or eat as muchMy knee and shoulder hurt, but I'm not gonna complain'Cause I'm enjoying the speed limit years.When I lose my license, and then my mindAnd all the luggage, what'll be left behind?It's time to stop the racing 'roun

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