In the heart of Tennessee's rolling hills,
Two boys, dreams and a garage to fill.
Amid the mountains, a tale unfolds,
Of youth, ambition, and dreams so bold.
In a wooden haven, seasoned by time,
They toil on a treasure, covered in grime.
A Datsun 280Z, worn but proud,
Echoes of Metallica, playing loud.
Bondo patches, a tapestry of care,
Each stroke of sandpaper, a moment to share.
Sweat and laughter, the air interweaves,
As they shape metal dreams, rolling up their sleeves.
The 80's fading, the 90's in sight,
These teenage boys, under the garage light.
With hands as artists, they sculpt their fate,
In this humble abode, where dreams resonate.
Misfits tunes, a rhythmic guide,
As they work side by side, passion inside.
The back of their heads, a story untold,
Of youth in the mountains, fearless and bold.
In that old garage, their world apart,
Two boys, one car, a beating heart.
A symbol of freedom, of days soon to come,
In the dance of youth, where dreams are spun.
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